Black and White: Of Cats and God

There seem to be lots of black and white cats in my life. I think there is a pattern developing. I have two of them living with me. They are the variety known as Tuxedo cats because their markings look like someone wearing a tuxedo. They are really beautiful too. I adopted one from the pound. The other one came from the woods out back. Someone dumped her or lost her when she was very little. It is a long story on this one, but I will sum it up by saying that although we tried to adopt her OUT she is still here. There is a stray of the same variety that visits the yard occasionally. I think he belongs to one of the neighbors who lives up the block, but I am not sure. My cats are not happy when he comes around.
A few weeks ago, there was a little black cat running around the yard. She would zip through like greased lightning and hide under one of the sheds. I thought her left front leg was badly broken as it would flop up and down when she ran. I started feeding her and after the second day, she let me near her when I brought out her food in the early evening. Afterwards she came out of hiding and was a ball of love and purrs. She had a spot of white on her chest. Her leg wasn't broken, much to my relief, but she had been born with a deformity. Although she couldn't walk or run on it because it was shorter than the other one and had no elbow joint, she did use it for balance and the paw worked fine. I really wanted to keep her, but my husband would not hear of it. Since you don't break up a 41 year marriage for even the most affectionate and adorable cat, I let go. I have promised Paul that we would not have 3 cats at one time again, and he held me to my word. I also had heard from the Lord regarding this; in a post from a ministry I follow, there was encouragement to let go of things that seem important to you because God has something better.  I was really sad about it, but I found a rescue who provided vet care and she is now in a cage-free shelter awaiting adoption. I have no doubt that she will not be there for long. Everyone who meets her loves her.
The following week there was a demonstration in front of the U.N., supporting Israel and against a Palestinian state being allowed to form without conforming to the U.N. requirements. You probably never heard anything about it as the media does not cover such things, but it was estimated that there were more than 3,000 Christian, Jews, Muslims and Hindus in attendance. I know because I was there. It was important to me, and more important than the cat. My husband was happy to let me go, by myself, on trains and subways into Manhattan. That was the hand of God, I can tell you for sure. It was one of those times when you know for sure that you are in the right place, in God's timing, and something changes in you; you feel a shift has happened.
Tonight there was another black and white cat. This was a tiny kitten on the side of the Sunrise Highway service road; a very dangerous and busy stretch of roadway. In spite of the traffic coming up to the light, I stopped my car and put my hazard lights on. I got out hoping to pick it up and take it home. I tried to catch the poor thing, but it would not come near me.  Cars began to swerve around me to get to the intersection. I kept calling to the kitten and trying to catch it, waiting for the horns to start blaring, but it would not come. It finally squeezed back through the cyclone fence, and was safe for the time being. I collected the food dishes that someone had left for it and put them on the inside of the fence where it would be safer. I hoped whoever had been feeding it would do the same. I felt terrible. As I turned around, expecting to see angry faces, the woman in the car that was now at an angle in front of me asked "Did you catch it?" I replied "No, it wouldn't come to me." She asked if it had gone through the fence, and I replied that it had. She waved. I turned again to get into my car and there was a man in a big SUV. I again expected frowns and grumbles, but he also asked if I was able to catch it. I replied again that I hadn't and he just said "Oh, too bad." I got back in my car and I have to admit I was really surprised. It was rush hour traffic and the light we were at takes forever to get past. People are always in such a hurry and impatient as they just want to get home. I turned at the corner to continue on my way to my destination and I got more and more upset. By the time I got to the next traffic light, tears were forming...and I was fighting to control them.
You can't blame everything on menopause, and I was asking the Lord what was going on. I heard Him ask me, very clearly, "Do you do well to be sad about the kitten?" And I said, "Yes Lord, I think I do. But I don't know why, except that I am afraid it will get hit by a car and killed." Silence. Now I was crying and feeling awful. The poor little thing. Who would just dump a baby like that? Or was it born wild and the mother was dead? What ever the truth is, I will never know. I was waiting on the Lord to speak as I continued driving. I was listening to some really great worship music and trying to get my head together as I was going to an outreach at a local cafe. I wouldn't be much good if I was still upset when I got there.
It was about 15 minutes before I heard from Him again. It went something like this. I can't quote because it was more of a knowing deep inside than spoken words.
The way that I was feeling about the kitten is the way that the Lord feels about those who are lost. There are those that He calls to, but they just will not come. They are too afraid. He tries and tries to catch them with His love, but they will not come. He still loves them; His heart is broken over them. They choose what seems like freedom instead of the Savior. Just as I couldn't save the kitten, no matter how hard I tried, He can't save the ones who run from Him. But still He tries. And loves.
I spoke with a friend about it, and my feeling of frustration...what do I do with all this? He simply asked what I thought...and I said "Pray." He reminded me of a prophetic word I received a few years ago and had shared with him. "You will accomplish more by your prayers than by your involvement.." True. Sigh. So hard for me as I am so much more of a Martha (worker) than a Mary (one who sits at the feet of Jesus).
As I have been writing this, the thing that ties it all together are the cats and the Lord. There are 5 cats. Five is the number of grace. Although the cats are all black and white, things with God are not always so. There are absolute truths to who He is and the most important one is that God is Love. He loves me and He gives me grace to pray when it isn't easy, if I will listen to His call. The grace is there, but I need to respond to it. The love is there, but I need to respond to it. God stopped by in my car this evening, and taught me more about His love than I have learned in a long time. Head knowledge became heart knowledge. Knowing He loves the lost and feeling His love for the lost are quite different from each other. I'm glad I asked.

POST SCRIPT

My family thinks the last post was too short, and reminded me that I left out a lot of details. The truth is, I left out many details on purpose. I wanted to share my story as a chance to celebrate the victory in my life and not to elicite any sympathy for the journey.  I also wanted to tell my story to remind people that early detection is vital to saving your life. Breast cancer is only one of the screenings that we need to get. Some of the others are very unpleasant, like colonoscopy for the detection of cancer of the colon; but they are so important.

One more thing that I think is so important is this..don't call it "my cancer" should you ever find yourself in the battle. It is not yours. It is an attack against your body and you should not claim it as a part of you.. Many doctors will describe it that way, as being "your cancer". Please tell them it isn't yours and to refer to it as "the cancer". That will go a long way to getting your thinking right as you get ready to fight.
Thank you for reading my story.
It's October. Breast Cancer Awareness month. Take care of yourself. And remember that men can get breast cancer too.
I hope you enjoy the video...it is my favorite of the Pink Glove Dances. Don't miss the dancing custodian spotlight....he is the best!

A Journey Through Cancer and Back: Part Three

Well here we are at part three and the last of my story, I hope. I don't want to drag it on for too many days...

My surgery was scheduled for early September. I was looking forward to getting it over with and a bit scared at the same time. In the back of my mind I wondered what would happen if I woke up halfway through the procedure and felt everything they were doing but was paralyzed and couldn't tell them! I spoke with the anesthesiologist about all that, and she assured me that your body wakes before your brain and there are definite signs that you are beginning to wake up. Your extremities start moving around and then they give you more drugs. I felt better after that talk. I have had surgery before, but never such a long one.
Paul was worried and wonderful at the same time. He couldn't do enough for me, but was also making sure I would go through with it. I had some ups and downs and ins and outs as I contemplated losing a breast; was I going too extreme, should I just wait until they decide in a few years that you don't need to have a mastectomy for dcis because it rarely leaves the breast; so many thoughts and a husband determined to keep me on track. He was scared to death of losing me. I was irritated at having to go through all of it. My daughters were wonderful and encouraging and full of questions but also considerate of whether or not I felt like talking; I almost always feel like talking.
So much needed to be arranged; who would take care of Adam, who would watch Gavin as I went through months of recovery and not being allowed to lift anything. Gavin is one of my grandchildren; I have been blessed to care for all of the grandkids while their moms work. I didn't need to worry; Jodi took family medical leave and Paul arranged to use vacation time and sick time for two months until I could get back to normal living.
My surgery day came and everything went pretty much as I had been told. I went to sleep and woke up as if it had only been a few minutes, but it had been eleven and a half hours. Paul was right there as I woke in a swirling mass of pain. He called the nurse over and she asked me a few questions and then gave me more morphine. I went to sleep. I barely remember being transported to my room or anything really for the next 24 hours. I do remember Paul wanting me to eat and drink..he was so sure I needed food. Dr.Palmeijer came in and assured me that my appetite would return as my body shook off the effects of so much anesthesia. "Don't worry about eating, you will when you can digest it." Paul stopped worrying, and I began to realize why Adam will never eat after he has surgery. His body takes much longer than mine did to recover.Also, I could hardly believe what I  looked like! I was swollen beyond belief. I looked like I had been stung by a thousand bees. My hands could hardly bend to grasp anything. YUUUCCCHH!! Ug--ly!
The following day I was allowed to leave ICU and go to the regular floor. I had been able to get out of bed and I had been walking well around the unit. After we settled in, Paul washed my hair for me and helped me sponge bathe...I told you before that he is the best nurse ever. My sisters came to visit, friends dropped by, my pastor came in, and I couldn't wait to get out of there. I stayed for five days. I forgot to mention that my plastic surgeon is a young man and very good looking. It is strange when you get to the place where your doctors are so much younger than you. He is married, but that doesn't stop the young women from drooling over him. My sisters were about as shocked as I was over his age.(considering that plastic surgery is a specialty and adds a few more years onto medical school. and that he is an assistant professor at the university) But all the nurses told us what a genius he is, and they are right; my breast is rather beautiful, even if I do say so myself. But you'll have to take my word for it.:0}
I went home and had a visiting nurse for a few days. I had four drains hanging out of my body. This presented a problem going home, as I knew that Adam would be very upset at seeing them...he understands operations all too well. I designed a small apron to hold them and my sister made it for me. What a blessing! It supported them and kept Adam and everyone else from seeing them and what was inside them. It was 2 weeks before the last one was out. Paul did my dressing changes and helped me in and out of the shower;  he scrubbed my back and washed my feet. Then helped me dress. He cooked and cleaned and bathed Adam and got him off to school every morning and off the bus every afternoon. What a culture shock for him! He is the chief custodian of our high school, and in charge of a 500,000 square foot building full of 200 teachers and 3,000 students.  He runs a crew of 20 over three shifts. He thinks his job is easier than mine :0}
My church friends came and visited and brought us meals and desserts. I appreciated the company more than anything else.
I went to see Dr. Palmeijer after a week. The results were in from the breast biopsies. There was another area of cancer  that did not show up on the mammogram.  I was glad I had the mastectomy and knew I had made the right decision. I would have been back in the O.R. in another year or two.
I have had more surgery since then to repair my abdomen. The muscle seperated and I now have mesh in there. I would not recommend the TRAM flap surgery that I had; it messes with your core and if your muscles do not hold up you end up with mesh to hold your guts in place. I did not think that through, but I will say that in over 1,000 patients with this plastic surgeon, there are only two of us that have had this problem. There is another procedure called the DIEP flap, and that uses skin and fat only. I have a cousin by marriage who has had that done, and 5 years later she is very happy with her results.
The end of the story is that I am cancer free. I am healthy and happy. I would not want to go through this again, but if that day comes I will. Through it all, Jesus has been my strength and the One Who loves me best. Paul loves me best too. I have learned that I can survive anything, that I have stories worth telling, that no matter how dark it gets it will get brighter again, and that I am loved.
When I thought about cancer in the beginning, I thought of it as the great divider. Most people can't relate to you when you have cancer; it makes things awkward and they don't know what to say. So they avoid you.
I learned that cancer is also the great joiner. It joins your family closer together, it causes you to look at your life and what is important, it helps you begin to say "I love you" more than ever because you realize you might not be there one day to say it. Cancer comes to destroy, but it actually builds. HA! I LOVE THAT! Cancer accomplishes the exact opposite of what it was sent for. I have a freedom now that I never had before. Life is too precious to let anything destroy what you are trying to build. I am trying new things and taking risks I never took before. I am not worried about being perfect..I can make mistakes as I learn and it is not a tragedy. I can value my past even as I learn to not live in it or by it. Life is good and I intend to enjoy the rest of mine. By the way, I plan to live to be at least 100, so if you are following  my blog you may be following  it for a very long time. In case you didn't realize, blogging is one of my new things.
So God stopped by in this journey. Actually, He never left. I hope you will stop by often. I like sharing my life with you. The kettle is on for tea anytime, and if you happen to like coffee, I will be happy to brew some up for you. If you are really lucky, it may be on a baking day.

A Journey Through Cancer and Back:Part Two

Part two....seems like so many more parts, but here goes.
I was very faithful about getting my mammos every six months for the first two years, and then because there was nothing new or exciting, I was able to have one a year after that. I was good about it, but after some very difficult times in 2004, I let things slip. I had a mammo that year before everything in our lives slid into the Year From Hell. My mother died from emphysema in March. My grandson had six surgeries in five weeks in the summer, between June and July. He is shunted for hydrocephalus and it failed. Repeatedly. His story is for another day; maybe a book. He went from walking independantly to using a wheelchair. We nearly lost him during this time. He was at home using a hospital bed for months. We rearranged our family room to fit it in. He was so sick. And in so much pain. We spent many nights watching "Fly Away Home", a movie about a girl who rescues Canadian geese eggs, raises the hatchlings and releases them back into the wild. The music is very beautiful and peaceful and  Adam would just watch and listen and sometimes miraculously drift off to sleep for a time. Physical therapists told us he would never walk again. (They were wrong!)  But God was there through all of it. He never leaves us or forsakes us. He is the comforter and the lifter of my head. There is more, much more, but these are the highlights. I had no time for the next year to do much of anything but take care of Adam.  He got better over time, but in 2006 he had more shunt problems and three more surgeries and we nearly lost him again. I justified putting  my own health  needs on the back burner. Never do this.
In 2008, in the spring, I finally went for a mammo. It had been 2 1/2 years since my last one. I was lectured  and reprimanded by my gynecologist, and by the girls in Good Samaritan Hospital Breast Care Suite. But as usual, they took excellent care of me. I had my mammo and went back out to the waiting area until my results came back.  Then: they needed more films. They also wanted to do a fine needle biopsy on one of the cysts in my left breast as it did not look good. So sure, fine, go ahead.
The results of the needle biopsy were fine. The repeat mammos were not. I had more micro-calcs, and they were very concentrated in one area. Not a good sign. I needed to come back for another stereotactic biopsy. (sigh) o.k.
A few days later I was back at the hospital for the test. They took TWENTY tissue samples. The radiologist does this test and she looks at it right away. She sat and talked with me for a while, and the lovely nurses did too. I can't say enough good things about the people who work there; they are kind, compassionate and sympathetic. They hold your hand and rub your back and talk to you while you go through your stereo procedure. They are hand-picked for their jobs and I think by the Lord. Theirs is a gift of empathy that I have rarely seen anywhere else. Thank God for them and the difference they make in the world. The radiologist told me I needed a surgeon once again, and it didn't look good. She really didn't want to say more.
I wanted a new surgeon after the last time, and they gave me a few names. I decided to go to the Carol Baldwin Center instead. There I would find every specialist I needed under one roof.
Gosh, I feel like this story could go on forever. I will be brief.
I found a wonderful breast surgeon who directed me to an oncologist. They both took very detailed histories and asked many questions. I discussed my bleeding problem the last time, told them that one of my daughters has Von Willebrands factor, and asked for help. I got it. Both doctors were amazed that no one had ever paid attention to my history and checked into the problem any further. There was a definite trail that was easy to follow if a person took the time to really listen. I now take a medication called DDAVP before I have any surgery and I don't have any problems. So simple. So important.
Dr. Palmeijer (pronounced palm-air)  did my breast biopsy. She was kind and very thorough. I made an appointment to get the results on my birthday. I was fifty-six years old. I had cancer. Life changed in an instant.
The good news is that the type of cancer I had would rarely mestasticize, and I was at stage zero. I had DCIS----Ductal Carcinoma In Situ. Big words that mean I had cancer in a milk duct and it hadn't spread out of the duct to any other area of my breast. I had two choices; have a partial mastectomy and five weeks of radiation, or have a total mastectomy and no radiation. The main concern was for speedy surgery as the lesion was very near to my chest wall, and waiting would give it the chance to spread elsewhere. Dr. Palmeijer also suggested I have a radioactive dye test for my lymph nodes before the mastectomy (if I chose that option) to see if there was any chance that the nodes had been affected. This test can't be done after a mastectomy as the dye has to be injected into your breast in order to travel into the lymphatic system. So of course I agreed to have it done. And I decided to have a mastectomy; I did not want to have radiation. It seemed like a bad choice to me,considering I had already had a partial mastectomy, and the radiation can have adverse effects on your heart and anything else in the surrounding areas.It can also be very debilitating and have lasting effects on your energy and health. You can have reconstruction for a partial mastectomy, but I figured since I already had atypia and now dcis, the chances of getting cancer in that breast again were pretty good.
I also had a consult with the plastic surgeon. He told me about the different types of reconstuction that were available. I won't go into much detail, but I opted for reconstruction from my own body; no implant. Skin, muscle and fat from my abdomen would be used to make me a new breast. As it would be from my own body there was no chance of rejection. I could have the work done immediately after the breast surgeon finished my mastectomy. I  would wake up with a breast instead of without one. I liked that idea.  I thought I would be forever done with surgery in one hospital stay.
I didn't like the eleven hours it would take for everything to be accomplished. I wouldn't be aware of that anyway. But Paul would. He didn't care. He wanted me to have a mastectomy and be safe, and didn't care what kind of reconstruction I had, or if I didn't have any at all.  I joked about maybe just putting a sock in my bra like my mother did. She had a mastectomy when she was seventy-five and couldn't be bothered with an implant and didn't like any of the mastectomy products. She just put one of her favorite white fuzzy socks in her bra and said,  "The hell with it!This is more comfortable." I think she was right. But we made plans for the whole process and jumped on in.

A Journey Through Cancer and Back

I haven't done a post yet about cancer, and since October is breast cancer awareness month, I think it's a good time to write one. My fight began in 2001, when I had a suspicious mammogram finding of microcalcifications. These are often present when there is cancer in the breast. They are not the same thing as calcium deposits, which are just that; lumps of calcium in the tissue. I needed to have a sterotactic biopsy done. In case you don't know, a stereotactic biopsy is step two for determining the presence of cancer in the breast. I started to describe this procedure for you, but decided it is probably better to spare you the gory details. The radiologist takes several tissue samples from the area where cancer is suspected and examines them under a microscope. She also implants a small clip so that when you have another mammo done, the area is immediatly noticed and easy to locate. This shows up on x-ray also, and makes it the most definite way to excise the right area if you need further biopsies. Depending on what they find, the next step is a surgical biopsy. I needed the next step. They suspected ADH----Atypical Ductal Hyperplasia, a pre-cancerous lesion.I had an excisional biopsy. The surgeon removes a small portion of tissue in the area where the stereotactic was performed. and sends the sample to the lab for determination of disease. This was supposed to be a teaspoon of tissue and turned into a partial mastectomy, as my surgeon thought it best to try to remove every bit of the area that had micro-calcifications. I wasn't too happy when I woke up and she told me the news; we had not even discussed the possibility of that prior to my surgery. I went home with instructions to take it easy and not lift anything for a few days, don't take motrin or aspirin, ice for pain and swelling,etc. Everything would be fine.She neglected to tell me to wear a tight sports bra for support. Everything seemed fine until the next morning when I woke up and rolled over in bed. I felt something let go inside my breast. Over the course of the next hour or so, my breast began to swell. And swell. I called the doctor and went in right away. When my husband and I arrived, we were told that my surgeon wasn't there, she was on vacation. She hadn't told me. I saw an associate who was very nice, examined me without touching me, and told me I probably had a small bleeder and should be fine; it would stop on its own. Come back in two hours if it continued to swell. I went home and waited, and went back in two hours; still growing. I was told again that the bleeding should stop on its own, come back in 2 hours. By this time my breast was enormous and the covering doctor had changed. He sent me to the hospital right away. I had to wait for the surgical repair as I had eaten ONE cookie in the afternoon; I should have listened to that inner voice and not eaten anything, in spite of what the first doctor had said. It's too risky to have surgery for at least six hours after eating solid food. As I waited in the hospital for my time to pass, two of our closest friends came to keep Paul and me company. They could not believe how large I had gotten. I like to joke about it now and say that I normally have oranges, but now I had an orange and half a watermelon. No exaggeration. Sometime after midnight, I had my second surgery. So much for a simple procedure and quick recovery.When she first saw me, one of the covering nurses made a remark about how it's sort of like when you are engorged from breastfeeding when your milk first comes in. I answered her that was true, but when you are breast feeding you haven't had a third of your breast removed the same day. She didn't have much to say after that. I know she meant well and to lighten my mood, but I was tired after so many hours of pain and no food or water. Dr. Simon was wonderful and kind when he finally came from the O.R. he had been in for the last few hours. He told me I had had enough of pain and would put me to sleep right away. No twilight sleep this time, full anesthesia. When I woke up he said that he couldn't find the bleeder as it had finally stopped, but he evacuated the hematoma and cleaned up the area and I should be feeling much better soon. I was taped up very tightly and told NOT to wear any bra and to see him in two days unless there was any problem. I went home the next day. My husband was kind and thoughtful and wonderful during all of this. He took excellent care of me through it all. You might wonder why I don't mention him very often when I write; it's because he told me he doesn't want me writing about him in my blog. So I keep it to a minimum out of respect for him. But he's the best nurse ever and I love him. :0)

When the biopsy results came back, it was what they expected; ADH; pre-cancerous. Come back for mammos every six months for the next two years, and yearly after that if all stayed clear. I hate that all of this happened, but I would still do exactly the same thing; go for my mammo, and then sonogram for cysts. I would still have the stereotactic biopsy, (and have had another one since then) and I would still go for the excisional biopsy(I have done this again too). The next time around I asked the new surgeon and the oncologist about my bleeding problem. They asked many questions and were surprised that no one had ever followed this for me before.(I will spare you the complete details of my history, but it began when I was 3 1/2 years old, had my tonsils out, hemorraghed, nearly died and had a transfusion of a full pint of blood. Adults have 8 pints, but little kids have maybe 4. rather significant) I always tell this history that doctors should have picked up on. Remember that you are your own best advocate and if you think there might be something they are missing, press them for answers. I have a platelet disorder called Von Willebrand's trait. Now I get medication prior to any surgery and have no problems.

I am an advocate for mammos every year. Early detection will save your life. Don't make excuses that you are too busy, mammos hurt, there's no history in your family, or anything else. Begin at forty if you live on Long Island; the breast cancer rate here is one in four. It is one in nine for the rest of the country. We still don't know why that is, but it is reason enough to get your baseline mammo early and every three years after that until you are fifty, when it should be yearly. I will tell the rest of my story in a day or two. Check back if you are interested.

Recurring Themes and Irene

Do you have recurring themes in your life? I do. I think many people do. One of mine is weather prayers. I remember the first time it even entered my mind to pray about weather issues. It was in the early 1980's, and I had had a dream about a tornado. It wasn't the first time. (another recurring theme, but that's another story) It left a strong impression on me as I went through my day, and I remember that sometime in the midddle of the day, we had the first ever that I could remember tornado watch here on Long Island. I remember the radio announcer being somewhat incredulous as he reported it. That just doesn't happen here. So I didn't know what to think about that, or what to do either. I called a friend and told her about the dream, and that I thought the Lord had given me a warning about the tornado. What should I do about this? Do I pray that it would be stopped?  She thought about it, and she said it sounded like a good idea; I thought so too. 

I was a very young believer at the time and had no idea of this kind of praying, or if a person could expect God to answer this kind of prayer. But I asked. And we didn't have a tornado. We had a warm and sunny and calm day. I was really glad. My kids were in school, and I had no way to get to them as we had only one car at the time. I had no idea what you needed to do to be safe in a tornado. And no desire to visit Oz.

Whatever the reason for no tornado, it built my faith to pray weather prayers.I believe it was God stopping by, and He encouraged  me to pray for things I knew little or nothing about.

Many years later, when my mother lay dying in a hospital in Siler City,North Carolina, I went and stayed there with her for 3 weeks. It was a hard time for all of us, but especially for my father. I spent the nights in the hospital, and my father and my aunt took the day shift. It was winter, and although the winters are milder there, it was cold and one late night we were getting a snowstorm. I prayed and asked the Lord to please hold back the snow, or could He please turn it into rain if we really needed the precipitation. I was worried about my father driving to the hospital as they don't really know how to handle snow down south; they rarely get any and don't have snow removal equipment or salt. You take your chances if you drive before it melts. The road to the hospital is windey and has no shoulders, not so good for an eighty year old man to be driving during a snow storm. It was snowing lightly in the morning when my father and aunt arrived, with no accumulation except on the grass. My aunt was full of news about the storm and kind of bewildered too.  "The weatherman showed a map of the storm, and it made a circle all around Siler City. In the middle it was completely clear. They never saw anything like it." Neither had we. I was so thankful. God is so good.

I prayed about this last storm we got too. Hurricane Irene. I pray differently now, and just as Jesus did, I tell the wind and waves to be still. I prayed that Irene would turn and go out to sea. I prayed that she would be what her name means; Peace. I prayed for protection for people in the path of the storm. I prayed for no loss of life and for no property damage. I prayed for the animals too; where do they go to be safe? I know lots of other people pray about storms too. We have varying degrees of success. I don't know why that is, but I believe it is worse when we don't pray at all. Irene did lots of damage. I think there would have been much more if no one prayed. I wish I had more wisdom and answers to the questions that many have as they read this, but I don't. I do know that I will pray the next time we get a hurricane or tornado or tsunami or earthquake or any other extreme weather or geological occurance warning.

Irene means peace. What I found this time around is that in the midst of the storm, I had peace. I was not afraid. I made preparations in case of power outages or floods, and stocked up on food and water. But not too much. I didn't think we were going to need it. We didn't. But many others did and still do. Some of our family lives in an area that was ravaged by flooding. Their need is great. Their neighbors too. Some have lost everything. There isn't much I can do. I can't go there; I can't help them clean up or try to salvage what they can, or even hug them and tell them it will get better. But in the meantime, I can pray.

this is not a lake, this is the flood zone in Middleburg.

Storm Damage

We had a storm last Thursday night. Adam and I were watching it out the front window; it was fascinating. The lightning was striking all around and very near; the thunder was booming almost immediately after. The rain came down like sheets of water and looked like a waterfall as it was so heavy. I don't remember ever seeing this type of rain before. Suddenly, we heard a loud CRAAACCK!!! One of the maple trees in the front yard broke. I dragged Adam quickly backward from the window as I thought it was coming right in. It didn't. It twisted and came down on the roof and on the deck outside our kitchen door.  The storm continued for about another twenty minutes; it lasted a total of about half an hour. I was waiting for it to be over so that I could go outside and see how much damage had been done. When I did, it appeared to be very little, and I was thankful for that AND that we have good homeowner's insurance. We are in Good Hands. :0} And good hands with Allstate.

The next morning, I called and filed a claim. They assured me we were covered and that the adjuster would come on Tuesday to inspect and see what we needed done. "Go ahead and have the tree removed, but take pictures" the claims department told me. So I did and posted them on Facebook. Of course. I called my regular tree service guys, but they were out of town. I called another local company that my husband Paul suggested, but he was busy with so much work already that he couldn't come until Monday. The third company gave me an emergency number to call, and it ended up being one of the owners who was in California on vacation, but assured me he would call one of the foremen and get someone over the same day. He was as good as his word. I heard from someone within the hour, and he was at the house shortly thereafter.

His name is Don.We spent some time going over the possible ways of removing the tree, the possibility of damage happening during the process and the price. I told him that the insurance company told me to get 2 or 3 estimates; he gave me a good price right away. He also promised to get a crew here the same day. I said that would be great, and that they had the job. Then he said "I wasn't supposed to be here." I said, "You mean because of another job?" He answered, "No. I mean I wasn't supposed to live. I'm a cancer survivor." I stuck out my hand and took his and said "Me too. I am a survivor also." He was somewhat taken aback, and then told me his story. He had been diagnosed in November, had surgery, chemo and radiation, lost 80 pounds, and here he was, back at work. We talked for a while. (You never know who is coming to your house, do you? But God stopped by too.)

I was encouraging him; he was saying "I don't know why I'm still here." I said,"Because you fought." He answered "No, I didn't. I prayed every day to die." Wow. So then I told him that he is here because God is not finished with him. That he has a purpose that he hasn't yet fulfilled. He might not know what that is, and neither do I, but God does. Just as I spoke these words to him, a cool breeze began to blow. There had not been a breath of air at all before this, and it was a hot day. We were both sweating. I told him that the Lord sent the breeze to show him that He was with him right then and there. And to refresh him. He just shook his head and said "yeah. that was kinda freaky."  I told him that I really meant it, and he agreed that something unusual had happened. So I took the chance and pressed forward a bit more, and said that I didn't know his spirituality, mentioned I believe in the Father, Son and Holy Spirit, and told him that the Hebrew word for Spirit, breath and wind are all the same. He said that yeah, his wife is really religious. So I invited him into the house and showed him the picture of the Fire Tree, and told him the story. He was amazed. (you can read this story in the beginning of my blog; it is the first entry. just scroll down and click older posts.)

He left and came back with a crew a few hours later. The tree was down in about an hour. No extra damage. We tipped them and told them to have dinner on us, chatted for a few minutes and they left. Don would be back on Monday with the bill.

On Monday, my Snapfish order came. I had ordered a photo mug and some prints to frame for Paul; our anniversary is coming up and he loves new pictures. I had also ordered some prints of the fire tree. I wanted some copies to give away. The mail got here before Don did. He gave me the bill and I offered him a print of the tree. He said "Really? I would love a copy..." I gave him one and he stared at it for a few minutes. I said I was sorry that the quality wasn't better, but that you could still see it clearly. He said "Oh yeah, no doubt about it. You can't deny what this is." He was truly grateful for the picture. I thanked him for coming and getting the work done so quickly; he told me he was so glad to have met me. I said the same.

I am always amazed at how the Lord orchestrates things. He wanted to touch Don's heart, and He worked things out for him to be the one to come here for our storm damage. Don has a different kind of storm damage to clean up; I think the Lord has begun the work. I hope we meet again.

UNCLE JOE

The other day I had worship music on in the early morning, and I refused to put the t.v. on for Adam. He resisted at first, but then came in the kitchen to join me as I was worshipping and dancing; it was a three beat melody, like a waltz, so I  was waltzing. Adam rolled into the kitchen in his wheelchair and wanted to join me.( Adam needs to have his shoes and braces on in order to walk, so he was using his chair.It was still pajama time in our house; we were barefoot.) So we waltzed together and it was fun and the presence of the Lord was sweet. He hasn't danced with me in a long time. I don't really know why, except that all of my kids and grandkids dance with me when they are little, and then they grow into bigger kids and think it's funny and just won't do it. I think I embarrass them. :0}.

Later in the morning, I remembered my mother dancing with my Uncle Joe. He wasn't really my uncle, but when I was growing up everyone that was a close friend became an uncle or aunt. Uncle Joe was my father's friend from WWII. I don't really know how they met, only that they were in the war together, and he was a good friend of our family. He had been shot and his spinal cord was severed in his lower back; he used a wheelchair for the rest of his life. He was a Purple Heart Hero. He was very independant and even drove his own car...he had hand controls for everything. I was always fascinated by this. He never took us driving but he always let us check out the car. He would hoist himself into it, fold up his wheelchair, and put it behind the driver's seat. I was amazed at how strong he was and how he could lift that heavy chair that way.  When he visited, my father would pull his chair up the front steps in order to get him into the house. Uncle Joe would hold the wheels and push backward,  and by working together, they always managed to get inside without any problems. On a few occasions, my mother would put on some old music, and she and Uncle Joe would do the Lindy. They were really good! The last time I saw them dance together was at my wedding.

I saw him once when my girls were little. He stopped by my home for a visit. He didn't want to come in, so since it was a warm and sunny spring day, and we sat under the shade of the oak trees hanging over the driveway and talked for an hour or two. He told me that he had become a Jehovah's Witness and was getting married. I shared my faith with him and wished him happiness. It was so good to see him. That was also the last time I saw him. I often wonder how things worked out. I think my parents lost touch with him after he married. I don't think they saw him again after they retired to North Carolina. It is strange to think that I never went to his home and never knew where he lived.(probably because there were five of us kids and he had an apartment). I guess when you're a child you don't think of those things, and when you're my age and begin to wonder about it, it's too late. But it's not too late to enjoy the memories. I just thought I would share this one with you today. Mom dancing with Uncle Joe; one of my favorites.

Broken Relationships

Broken relationships. These trouble me, even when it isn't my relationship that is broken. I hate to see this with anyone I care about. I like there to be peace, even when people disagree. There is a broken relationship right now that is really bothering me, as it hurts people that I love. But I can't fix it.

This morning I spent a considerable amount of time writing an email to one of the parties involved. I did a great job of asking questions and explaining my view of the situation. I expressed how the parties involved were hurt, and how I was also hurting for those involved. I even explained how I disagree with both parties in this, but how I still love and support them both. Then I deleted it. Why? Because it is just one of those situations that are better left to God. I cannot fix it, even though I would really like to build a bridge between them. I felt better, getting it on the outside, but to tell the truth, it still troubles me.

Several years ago, a prophetic guy visited our church. He spoke a word to me that I know was from the Lord, and it still rings in my heart when it needs to. "You will accomplish more by your prayers than by your involvement." It was a nice way of telling to me keep my mouth shut, trust God, and pray. He was right. In this instance and in many others.

I can't always fix things, but it is my nature to be a peacemaker. Sometimes the only way I can effect peace is to pray. It brings me peace, and often times calms the waters of other situations.The scriptures say that our prayers go up like incense before the Lord. So this morning I wrote out my peace offering and sent it up as a smoke signal. Thanks for stopping by and quieting me this morning, Lord. I could have done more harm than good.

IT'S STILL RAINING

It's still raining. It will rain until sometime tomorrow. Everywhere on Long Island, there are floods. People are needing to be rescued from the rising waters. And still the rain comes. Our block has a spot where it always floods when it rains hard. The state has put numerous drains in that area of the road, and it still floods in exactly the same place. You need to know where the high ground is under all that water in order to safely navigate the puddle. we have been living here for more than 30 years,and so we know how to get through without damaging the car.

The water level was down in our pool, and in need of being replenished. It is now threatening to overflow, and probably will by tomorrow.

It is very quiet outside. The birds are silent, the cicadas have ceased droning, there aren't any kids playing out there, and the guy with the race car and motorcycles has put them to rest for now. All I hear is the rain. Sometimes it is just a drizzle and hardly making a sound at all. Somtimes it is a steady soaking kind of rain, and I hear it rushing in the downspouts of the gutter system. Sometimes IT IS POURING! It sounds like drums on the roof  and reminds me of the tropical storms we experienced when we were in Florida.

I have been chatting on Facebook with a friend, off and on since last night. We are talking about all the changes in our lives and where we want to be and where we have been and how we don't want to be where we have been. We are ready for a change...and we have been ready for quite some time. We don't like a lot of what we see in christianity these days, and we don't want to judge or criticize any group of people who meet together in God's name, but we need something else. We have a friend who tells us "Go where you find life!" And we are doing that. Some times it's within the four walls of a church. Sometimes it's in the park. Sometimes it's at the beach, and sometimes it's in a local coffee shop. But we still want more!

What is it that we want? We want Jesus. We want more of his presence in our lives. We want to hear him and see him and know him better and love him more.

I find the presence of the Lord is often like this rain. After a long dry spell, we all need a  good dousing. Sometimes his presence is like a sprinkle, soft and refreshing. Sometime it is like a good soaking rain, long and deep and feeding the deepest roots. Sometimes his presence is like a downpour, saturating every bit of us as we stand in it. And I for one, can never get enough. I hope he rains until I am flooded with him. And I don't need rescuing. I need to swim and dive and stay in the flood until I am soaked through to the very core of my being. Maybe then I will have something of value to share with someone else. And I will; you can count on it. Rain on Lord! Reign on!

IT'S RAINING

It's raining. It's actally been pouring for awhile now. I woke this morning to the sound of rain and the smell of rain, and thanked the Lord.  It's been dry here and the plants and trees and animals suffer when there isn't enough rain.

On the other hand, two of my daughters are going on vacation with their families. One is going to the beach and staying in a hotel suite with a kitchen. The other one is going camping in a tent and cooking on a camp stove. The weather report says that it will rain until Tuesday; today is Sunday. It's not looking good for fun for either family.

Doesn't it seem to be like that so much of the time? It rains for some and times are not so good, just as at the same time it is rainy and wonderful for others. Sometimes even sunny and bright and perfect weather for others and we can't see past the clouds in our own lives. And we can't understand WHY.

I find that God stops by in all the different weathers of my life; I just need to be still long enough to hear Him speak. There is purpose in the sunny days and purpose in the rainy ones. There is purpose in the stormy days too. Sometimes my storms are of my own making and sometimes not. But God is with me anyway. He is the one who makes the winds stop blowing and quiets the roaring of the storms, sometimes while I am still in the middle of them. The storm may continue, but I have more peace until it completely subsides.

WHAT PURPOSE??? I don't always know, even after the storm is over. But I do know that when I listen for God and look for God and speak with God, I ride out the bad weather much easier than when I don't do those things.

Today I am praying for more rain. Not just the rain outside my windows, but for the rain of His Presence, and the Reign of His kingdom. I am on my way to gather with friends to worship Him this morning, rain, storm or shine...and I'd better get going or I will be late. Have a wonderful and blessed day today, and may the rain of God touch you in many ways!

Lookin' for Love

Remember that old song..."Lookin' for love in all the wrong places, lookin' for love in too many faces..". Well, I am looking for love in as many places as I can see it. It looks differently in every place I look, and I like what I see.

Yesterday, Adam graduated from his educational program. It is not the same as a regular high school graduation; here, the teachers take the time to single out each of their graduating students and BRAG ON THEM. Disability is not the focus, the focus is seeing with love and seeing the strength in each one. It has been that way since the beginning of his school career. I am thankful for that.

 God pointed out my own blindness yesterday when I heard one of the underclass girls sing. The chosen song was Katy Perry's "Firework". She sang karaoke style, and had her back to the audience. Molly, you see, has autism. She has great difficulty relating to an audience and unfamiliar situations. She is in Adam's class, so I have seen her before yesterday. I must tell you, what I heard was not what I expected. She belted out that song and hit every note...she kept perfect time and  sang beautifully. The volume of the voice track was turned lower than the music, so that we could really hear her. I never heard her speak before and thought she was non-verbal. I still don't know if she speaks or how often, but I do know that she sang with her whole heart. She loved what she was doing, and the audience loved her. Each time she got to the chorus, she jumped up and down with excitement and passion for the song.  She got a standing ovation. I think she got one in heaven too. The tears were rolling down my face. So beautiful.

Last night I went with Adam to his prom. It was a little difficult for him as he does not like big parties, but he eventually settled down. I was looking for love there too. I was not disappointed. I saw all the proud parents  and I saw students dancing with abandon. They were having a great time. There were a few couples there, boyfriend and girlfriend, and they were wonderful. So caring and respectful of each other. Some of our youth of today could learn a lesson from them.

One couple in particular were just friends, but they showed such an endearing love for each other. It appeared that they had not been together for a long time; they hugged and jumped up and down when they greeted each other. Then the young woman, who was quite a bit taller than the young man, bent down and started stroking his head. She was gentle and blessing him, and then she kissed him right in the middle of the top his head. So touching! Imagine if all of us were that comfortable to go beyond the initial hug and quick kiss on the cheek, and actually jump up and down for joy because we are so glad to see someone we love! I may try it. And soon.

So I think I will keep looking for love in all the places...I think I will keep finding it and I think I will like what I see. Love is a four letter word, but it is spelled so differently every time I see it. Yesterday it was spelled Adam and his friends. Thanks for stopping by and opening my eyes again Lord. xoxoxoxoxo

Quilts

About 32 years ago, I made my first quilt. I had no idea what I was doing, no idea of how to go about it, but I managed to hand sew a crazy quilt for my husband for his birthday that year. I filled it with an old store bought comforter, and backed it with a sheet. We had very little money in those days, so taking a class and buying fabric was out of the question. And our girls were just babies then, so who had the time to take a class? I used scraps of fabric from things I had made previously, and my mom gave me some scraps that she had and didn't need. Paul loved it. In spite of my poor sewing skills, it lasted about 20 years, and then I reluctantly threw it away as I couldn't repair it any more. I didn't know then what I know now or I would have saved it and made it better!
I really enjoy quilting now. I still have a lot to learn, but each one teaches me somthing new. I even took a class shortly before my #4 grandchild was born, knowing that there wouldn't be time after he arrived, and made Paul a new one. He was so pleased. He uses it all the time.
I love shopping for fabric for a new project. I always pray before I make a new blanket, and ask the Lord for inspiration and what might please the recipient. I can spend hours in the fabric store. It's almost as bad as going to a bookstore. There are shelves and walls of so many colors and prints...I just get lost there. I really try to stick with the current needs, but there is always something new and it gets me thinking of what I can make with that beautiful piece. I usually end up buying something that I just can't resist because I have learned that if I really love it, so will someone else, and when I go back for it I probably will not find it. You would not believe what the closet in my spare bedroom looks like.
One of the best things about quilting is the peace of it. It wasn't that way for me in the beginning; I tend to be impatient and in a hurry to see the finished work. That has made for lots of mistakes and lots of ripping out of seams...very time consuming and counter productive. I have learned to take my time and lay out the pieces after I cut them, in many different pattern combinations. I often change my mind as I do this; what I thought would look good doesn't, or the colors are not just right. Patience works its goodness into me and I continue to learn.
God is in the middle of all this. It is a creative outlet for me, it teaches me patience, I learn to hear from Him in different ways, and best of all, I learn that He is in the small stuff of my everyday life. He stops by and nudges me to try color combinations that I used to think clashed with each other. He nudges me to put patterns next to each other and see how beautiful they look together.  He gives me words to write to the receiver of the gift that bless them. I have learned to learn. And I have learned that I find peace in the midst of turbulent things going on in my life when I take out fabrics and cutters and rulers and work out something beautiful in spite of the world crashing down around me.
  I feel Him draw near and I get calmer and settled into the expression of something good when there is something bad happening.

We reason together about things that I am unreasonable about; He always wins the debate. I'm glad He does. This is fresh in my mind and heart right now as I have just come through a double whammy season. Trials from outside of the family, and another trial with my grandson. We are breathing freely again, but the darkness had a grip on me that was so unpleasant. I was under pressure to finish another quilt and ship it to California for a gift for a friend, and my mind and heart were racing in bad directions. As I yielded to the Lord and let Him be right when I was wrong, I began cutting out the pieces and working on the gift. This was one that I changed completely from my original design. As I worked, I felt the anger draining away, and the peace of the Lord returning. I kept sewing and praying, and I felt Him with me; comforting and teaching and showing me my sin. I finished the quilt in record time and shipped it. God's grace.  My heart is free again. He is so good.

ADAM'S PRAYER

i wrote this a long time ago. perhaps it is a good day to share it. we are watching and praying still. Lord, have mercy and come quickly please. Let your kingdom come now, today, on earth as it is in heaven. Selah


Sometimes Jesus, I feel so small
I can't keep up with the others at all.

Sometimes Jesus, I can't remember
Does August come first, or is it September?

Sometimes Jesus, I can't pump the swing
and I try really hard, like anything.

Sometimes Jesus, I can't find my words,
and I call them dogs, but they're really birds.

And sometimes, Jesus, it's really true
I just don't know if it's green or blue.
   Help me be brave and keep trying.

But someday Jesus, I'll be strong and tall
and I won't have to wear these braces at all

And someday I'll run and jump and shout
and never again will I be left out.

'cause You're coming back and I know it's true
that I'll be healed 'cause I'll be with You.
Help me be brave and keep watching.

To Love Someone

"To Love Someone is to Know the Song in Their Heart and to Sing it to Them When They Have Forgotten the Words." Debbie Hron. I got this saying from a calendar that I used last year. It is a freebie from The United Spinal Association, formerly known as Eastern Paralyzed Veterans. Part of their fundraising campaign is to mail out calendars every year and hope people will contibute to their cause. We do. We like what they stand for.
Anyway, I ripped this page out of the middle of the calendar and taped it up on my desk. It has some cutesy country style artwork. Two fat cats surrounded by lots of hearts and some little birds. The verse inspires me to try to encourage others, and to encourage myself as well. There is plenty of darkness in the world, lots of mean sarcasm, too much name calling and so much mud-slinging going on that I really am tired of the news and also lots of what goes around on Facebook. It's easy to be mean and tear others down. It's not always easy to say something nice, or even something beautiful; that is not too popular anymore. I think this is a lovely verse to memorize and practice. It reminds of another of my favorites.."Be kind, for everone you meet is fighting a hard battle." Philo. He lived around the time that Jesus walked the earth. Old advice. Still good advice. Believe it or not, I learned that verse many years ago from a bag of Celestial Seasonings tea. I saved the little tag for about fifteen years, until it sort of wore out. The tag is gone, but the words still ring true in my heart.
I have heard it said that some people have a life verse. I used to wonder what mine was, but the the Lord has been reminding me of mine fairly regularly for the past few years. I never thought of it that way, it was just something I longed to see happen in this life, not just in the next. It is from the gospel of John. (He is my favorite gospel writer.) It is so important that Jesus prays it twice in his prayer to the Father on our behalf. I'll use the Reveised Standard Version as that is the one I was using when it pierced my heart. " ..that they may be one, even as we are one...." Jn.17:11, and again " that they may all be one, even as thou Father, art in me,and I in thee, that they also may be in us...." Jn 17:21. "That they may be one"; I converted it in my prayers to "Father, make us one".
Sadly, this is still not the truth of Christianity. We are often so absorbed with our own practice of of faith that we cannot see what our brothers and sisters are saying or feeling. We are so busy trying to hear what God is saying to us that we forget He speaks to all of us.
Even in our own churches, we often have no time or interest in the people God has put right in front of us, but we want to save the world. Odd, isn't it? I can get so wrapped up in my own issues or needs or wants or fears that I don't let into my heart the very people God has placed around me to help me get through to a better place. Or I shut out someone else because I don't understand them and would rather avoid learning to relate to someone new. (I switched to I so I am only pointing at me) Or I just don't have room in my life for anyone else. The list goes on.... I do struggle with these. Different days, different ones, but still working on being open.
How will we get to be one if we can't take the time to sing the song of another person's heart? How will we get to be one if we can't remember that everyone is battling something? How will we get to be one if we won't risk sharing our own heartbreak with another?
Maybe we can if we remember that Jesus prayed this for us. He asked his Father to make us one. He still wants that for us, and he always interceeds for us. I know he is still praying that prayer for his people today. I am reminded to pray it again today too. Will you join me?

Conflicted

I expect this post to be unpopular. I don't expect any rave reviews. I am struggling with the way I feel over the death of  Usama Bin Laden. A few years ago, I would have been jumping up and down and rejoicing over this news, like so many other Americans will be doing for days and maybe weeks. I am not. I am glad that an enemy is defeated. I am glad that the mastermind of the 9/11 attacks and so many other terrorist activities can no longer plot against our nation. I am glad that he can no longer kill innocent people. And I am thankful for our faithful military and their families, whose cost for our freedom is so much greater than my own.
On the other hand, I felt the pain his family is feeling over the loss of their husband, father, and brother. They may be our enemies, but they feel his loss as deeply as we feel the loss of our loved ones.
And more importantly, I don't think this pleases God.
Ezekiel 18:23 says, '" Do I take any pleasure in the death of the wicked?' declares the Sovereign LORD. "'Rather, am I not pleased when they turn from their wicked ways and live?"'. vs. 32 states '"For I take no pleasure in the death of anyone"', declares the Sovereign LORD. "'Repent and live'"
I have often prayed "Lord, give me Your heart for the lost. I want to love them the way You love them."
I must say, this is not what I expected.

Ferris Beuller

Today there was a street festival in the town where my church is located. We had a booth there to do some dream interpreting and "Life Readings". I am still in the process of breaking off old restraints; I don't like the terminology, but I like what God does. This wording is a little more comfortable for me than "Spiritual readings", but still reminds me too much of psychic terminology. But God doesn't seem to mind, as He generously gives us encouraging words to say to those who come to sit and see what this is all about. It is really kind of amazing when I think about it. Perfect strangers come and sit down, and trust you to say something to them about themselves. They are willing, for the most part, to believe that you can really do this thing. They have more faith in me to hear something for them than I do to receive something for them.(but I don't let on about that, of course) Even those who sit and are totally skeptical soften when we say something that catches them off guard because it is accurate. What does this say? Why do they agree to sit, let us look at them (which makes most people totally uncomfortable) and then speak into their lives? Why do they go and bring their friends back and say, "you gotta hear this!" ?
I think it is because everyone needs to be encouraged. Even the happiest of the visitors need to be encouraged.
One woman came and sat down, and as soon as she did, I heard the Lord say "Ferris Beuller". Now, what was I supposed to do with that? Most of the time, I don't know what to say until I begin speaking. I think the Lord is bypassing my brain and speaking through my mouth so I don't mess it up. So I just told her that as soon as I saw her, I heard the name, and asked her if she remembered the movie. I was laughing because it seemed so crazy to me, but she did remember it. So then I asked her, "Do you remember how he asked his friend Cameron, 'Can you really say you haven't seen anything good today?'"  (Cameron, for those reading who may not remember the movie, was a depressed, repressed, melancholic boy who didn't even want to get out of bed for an adventure.) And she did. Then I said, "Well, that's how you are with your friends. You are like Ferris with them and always encouraging them to see the fun in life. You're like a cheerleader cheering them on to remember to have fun and have a good time, but always in a good way, the right way." She was nodding her head as I was speaking and so excited and told us that is exactly right and just exactly what she does. My encouragement to her was to keep doing it, that she has a gift of encouraging others, and people really need it. She was all smiles. I don't remember what the other people on the team had to say to her, but it was along the same lines. All in all, it was a good experience.
I wish I could remember to do this all the time. I think we can always be "on" with God. I long to get to the place in my walk with Him that I am never "off".  Learning to give encouraging words hasn't been so easy, as I was not raised that way. I did not learn to praise people for their accomplishments, or their character, or kindness, or generosity.  I stumble over my words sometimes because I want to be better at this, and then I try too hard and it sounds disingenuine. (Is that the right word?)  However, when I relax and ask God to show me, He does. When I ask Him for the right words to say, He gives them. When I ask Him to put a guard on my mouth, He does that too. I have some regrets that I didn't learn this when I was younger, and that I was not so good at doing this with my children, but I am thankful for what I have learned and that there is still time to pass this on to them. And to my grandchildren. In the beginning, it felt WRONG. It felt like I was not being truthful. Or sincere. Or that I was making up things to say that were just noise. But that was not so. And I am getting better at this, it is becoming more natural to me, and I like it. I may not be Ferris Beuller, but I am not Cameron either. I have seen some good things today.

Goliath

  So we spent most of the day at the hospital. When that happens, it's kind of like watching reruns, only the faces change. The story is predictable, because we've seen it so many times, but then, every once in a while, something happens that we forgot about, and we get surprised. Sometimes that is pleasant, sometimes not so much. Today the surprise was good. We got to go home.
  I could turn this into a rant about everything that did not go well, but that would be so ungrateful and unloving. Instead, I am thankful for the nurse who started Adam's IV with one stick of the needle. I am thankful for the doctors who patiently listened to him as he tried to speak with them. I am thankful for the technicians who thought Adam was a lady-killer and knew he liked the pretty nurses. They teased him and joked with him as they prepared him for the CT scan. Adam was laughing, and it made him relax and hold still so that the test did not have to be repeated. These young men were not much older than he is. As I write this I am tempted to go to the place of disappointment for all the things Adam doesn't get to do...like college and driving and dating, but instead I will turn my thoughts to the fact that he is graduating from his educational program in June. He is 21 years old. We have had a few times when we did not think he would make it to that birthday. And we are so thankful to the One who has made it possible for him to still be here with us. He stopped by this morning and made that possible again.
  Adam woke up at 3:00 this morning and within a very few minutes began screaming in pain from a headache.  There was absolutely no consoling him or helping him, and I knew we needed to get him to the hospital, and quickly. That kind of pain indicates that his shunt is not working and this can quickly become a life and death situation. I could not even put his braces and shoes on him, because the pain in his feet was unbearable. He also has peripheral neuropathy, and this time the pressure in his head intensified the problem in his feet. Paul had to lift him into the car when we got outside. Thank the Lord for his wheelchair...
As I was helping Adam get into his chair I prayed some quick battle prayers for him and for his life and we left. He began to calm down almost immediately and we did not have to go to the nearest hospital but were able to go to Stony Brook University Hospital where most of his doctors have priviledges. (normally a 30 minute ride but Paul made it in 15)  I was so thankful as it makes the whole ordeal that much easier. Stony Brook has all of his records since the beginning of this journey when he was just 5 weeks old.
  The CT scan was ok...things looked about the same as in his last scan. The shunt x-rays were good; no breaks in the connections. The decision was that he probably had a blockage in the shunt, preventing passage of fluid out of his brain, and that it had managed to clear itself. This has happened before. This is the type of rerun surprise that we like. The other kind we will leave unexplored tonight because I don't like to visit that scenario.
So why did I name this post Goliath? After we came home today, and I had some time to think about the events of the day and to thank the Lord for His intervention. He showed me that this issue is our Goliath. It is the giant that we face and have not yet defeated. I say not yet because I believe we will have the victory. It is ours and the battle is the Lord's. I Samuel 17 tells the story of David and Goliath, how a young man defeated a giant with a sling and a stone. He did not claim any glory for himself in that victory, but gave glory to God for his success. "You come against me with spear, sword and javelin, but I come against you in the name of the Lord Almighty....this day the Lord will hand you over to me..." We wait for the day when the Lord will hand this enemy over to us, and we stand in His name until the day of deliverance comes. I saw the connection between the brook where David selected 5 smooth stones for his sling, and the name of the hospital. Stony Brook.  With a play on words, the Lord was showing me the battle in a different light. I might select 5 stones for the battle, but just as David needed only one stone to fell his enemy, there is only One who will win the battle, and slay this enemy for us. His name is Jesus. Thank you, Lord. You are so good.

What Does Love Look Like?

I spent most of the weekend at a conference. I didn't stay overnight at the hotel as it is too expensive, and I need to go back and forth anyway to take care of my family. It is a bit draining that way, but I don't really mind except for the last night, when I get so tired and would love to just go upstairs to a nice clean room and crawl into bed and sleep for a solid eight or ten or maybe even twelve hours. So I stayed late the last night, chatting with friends and laughing a lot. "A merry heart is good like medicine.."...apparantly Adam thinks so too because he was wide awake when I got home and stayed up until after four o'clock in the morning. He thought it was good to be awake at that hour, and was happy to see me. I was looking forward to seeing him too, but I was looking forward to seeing him asleep. It is funny how God stops by and works patience into me....we laughed a little bit and I gave him all the hugs he thought he missed out on in my absence, and then sat up and waited for him to go back to sleep. He sang and talked to himself for a long time after I left his room.
  One of the conference speakers, Heidi Baker, is one of the most humble and amazing people on the planet. Her love for God and people is truly inspiring to me. No matter how much the conference staff try to gently move her into the next venue, she will always take as long as is neccesary to touch and bless and love on every single person who is waiting for her. She signs the book that you just bought; she listens to your story and the desires of your heart and she prays with you; she will not be wisked quickly away or be protected by assigned body guards...God has more important things for her to do than lunch with a waiting crowd. Her actions remind me of what Jesus said one time to His disciples who were worried about mealtime "I have food that you don't know about....what nourishes me is to love the people that my Abba puts all around me." (gg's revised  version)
Her message this weekend? "Love looks like something...it's not just words...it's actions... it's what you do." I want to be one who loves in word and deed, who reaches my hand out to a broken and dying world; but in order to do that well, I need to have the eyes to see where my Abba is sending me. Or maybe who He is sending to me. I want to go to Mozambique and experience what love in action looks like there, but I think the Lord will show me where my lunch is right here on Long Island. I'm sure it will nourish me well.

AMNESIA

I have been joking via Facebook email with a friend about my evil thoughts. I told her she would not even want to know what I sometimes think. She tells me she's got me covered, and that 99% of the time I am good and my thoughts are good. I tell her she must be busy. She writes back and says"busy with what?" I say "covering my evil thoughts. She says she loves me and she's got AMNESIA! Now I can't stop laughing and am thinking what a good post I can get out of this. She tells me she's like God and has amnesia about my bad doings.....
Even though we are joking, she is so right. God has amnesia when it comes to our sins. The bible tells us that "He remembers our sins no more". That sure sounds like amnesia to me. Isn't it great how God stops by even when we are fooling around? I think He likes it so much when we make each other laugh. " He who sits in the heavens laughs"...and we are made in His image. I think we should laugh a lot more. We are much nicer to be around when we can laugh at the silly things and even the not-so-silly things going on every day. I know I often take myself too seriously. Anybody want to help me out of that habit? AMNESIA. Word for the day.
Maybe for the week. Maybe for the rest of my life. I wonder how many "bad doings" I can get amnesia about. Not only mine, but for the offenses that happen every once in a while. I want to be like the God who forgets. Thanks, Jewel. Sweet dreams tonight.