Chinks in my armor

It always starts with being tired. This is my weakness. I have fibromyalgia and when you take away all the complicated reasons they say you have this condition it brings you to sleep deprivation and the inability of your body to restore itself. This creates a vicious cycle of pain and then less sleep and then other things go wrong and your immune systen is compromised, and it spirals out of control. I have not been feeling well since my strep/scarlet fever diagnosis last week, and took a day off my antibiotic because it was making me so sick to my stomach. I guess in hindsight that wasn't a good idea. By Friday night I was wiped and my throat was sore again, and I was so tired and discouraged. Around 2 am Danica woke up screaming like she often does these nights because of her pain and after that sleep was a lost cause for me.

Saturday morning came. It was wet and cold, and I had to get up and ready to take Delaney to her horse back riding lesson. I was in the worst humor you can imagine. Every little thing Dan did upset me. I mean why in the world was he vacuuming and washing dishes when I needed him to be watching Danica so I could get ready? (I know most of you are thinking I'm crazy now because who would complain about their husband getting up early to clean house, right?) I called him to come in the living room so I could tell him something about Danica's schedule while we were gone. I didn't want to yell because my throat hurt so badly. He didn't want to come, and I got mad. I stomped in and gave him a piece of my mind. He gave me a piece of his. I told him I can't take it anymore. And then he said under his breath the word we said we would never say again. The "D" word. A word we came all too close to several years ago. There it was. An fiery arrow piercing through the chink in my armor. I started to bleed. Hot tears spilled over, and I left with Delaney.

As I drove the almost hour to the stable I began to pray. Something amazing happens to your stubborn and proud heart when you get before your Savior. I didn't begin praying about how sorry I was, but that's where I ended up. I have to die to self. I have to realize I don't deserve any of this. I don't deserve these beautiful girls I am so blessed to serve. I don't deserve a marriage to a man who forgives me again and again and cares for me and loves me when I am so unlovable. Even on my hardest days when I feel the worst I am bought with a price. He must increase. I must decrease. I don't need a spa day or more "me" time or even a retreat from this battle I am waging. I need fresh grace to heal these wounds and the shield of faith to protect me next time the fiery darts come flying.

I know the next few months will be hard. I am preparing for tough decisions about Danica's chiari--more financial stress, less sleep, more fear, and pain--all things that could break me mentally, emotionally, physically and especially spiritually. How am I going to head into this battle before me? How will I stand? He answers me:

"Put on the whole armor of God, that ye may be able to stand against the wiles of the devil. For we wrestle not against flesh and blood, but against principalities, against powers, against the rulers of the darkness of this world, against spiritual wickedness in high places. Wherefore take unto you the whole armor of God, that ye may be able to withstand in the evil day, and having done all, to stand. Stand therefore, having your loins gird about with truth, and having on the breastplate of righteousness; And your feet shod with the preparation of the gospel of peace; Above all, taking the shield of faith, wherewith ye shall be able to quench all the fiery darts of the wicked. And take the helmet of salvation, and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God." Ephesians 6:11-17

Thank you for Your promise I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me. Humble my heart. Protect my soul. Protect my family and my marriage. Help me stand.

The junk drawer

Friday night Dan tucked Delaney in and she started a conversation with him about a discussion between her classmates at the lunch table about "the middle finger". We have always encouraged her to come to us with anything that she sees or hears that she doesn't understand or makes her feel uncomfortable. She attends a Christian school so the second graders knew this was a bad gesture but didn't know what it meant really and someone had suggested there was a bad word that went along with it. Delaney wanted to know the word. Dan came in our room to ask me what I thought the best decision was and together we both decided that she should just know it was a very yucky word and a bad hand gesture and although someday she would probably hear the word we didn't want it in her head right now.

So yesterday Delaney spent the day at my parents house because her cousin Avery was visiting, and I guess this was still weighing on her heart so she brought it up to my mom. My mom decided to tell her the word--the "F" word. Without getting into her reasoning, etc. let me just tell you I was livid. I wasn't just a little mad but the kind of mad where you think you are going to explode. After I had it out with her about why this wasn't her choice to make and what in the world was she thinking, I began to stew inside. When I got home I had to tell Dan and this got me all riled up again. As I tried to fall asleep it kept coming back to my mind.

This morning I felt pretty far from God and was home from church with strep throat. My heart was just stewing in this lack of forgiveness. I sat down in a puddle of God's sunshine and a moment of household peace and read a devotional from "The Sacred Ordinary" by Leigh McLeroy titled "Inside the Junk Drawer." She begins the devotional by describing the junk drawer in her kitchen (which sounds a lot like mine) and how it finally was so crammed with stuff it got stuck. She then goes on to write:

My heart has a junk drawer too. And I wish it would get stuck more often. I visit it when I’m searching for reasons why God shouldn’t love me. When I’m feeling lonely or useless or discouraged. And in it I find odd pieces of my own history that shouldn’t matter anymore but still do—some far older than a few candy pieces gone bad. This heart-drawer holds secret sins, confessed—forgiven!—but not yet removed from my memory’s outtake reel. Words I wish I’d never spoken. Words I wish I had. Failures. Lapses in ordinary kindness. Moments of misplaced shame. Old hurts I still pick the scabs from. Scars I like too much. This junk has been forgiven, or redeemed, or transformed—but still I hold on. It’s trash. All of it. So the next time this drawer hesitates to open, I mean to let it stay shut. If God has
forgotten its contents, then by his mercy I can too.

Formerly, when you did not know God, you were slaves to those
who by nature are not gods. But now that you know God—or
rather are known by God—how is it that you are turning back
to those weak and miserable principles? Do you wish to be
enslaved by them all over again?
Galatians 4:8–9 NIV

If your heart’s junk drawer is crammed full too, wouldn’t this be
a fine day to begin to empty it out completely? Where would you
choose to start?

Today I am starting with a piece of junk I threw in there just yesterday. Real love--God's love--does not harbor any wrongdoing. It is forgiving. Can I sit at the foot of the cross where every one of my sins is forgiven and hold this little hurt in my heart? I'm taking inventory of the rest of my stuff too. Making a list and really cleaning this junk drawer.

Thank you God that I do not have to be enslaved by bitterness and hurt when I feel I have been wronged. Teach me more about Your amazing sacrifice of forgiveness and grace so I can live free to love like You do.

Chiari

Tuesday our little Danica had an MRI that revealed a chiari malformation in her brain. What this means in simple terms is she has a gap where most people's skulls are closed and so some of her brain is sticking out into her spinal column. Some people have this condition without symptoms, but in Danica's case she is presenting many of the most severe symptoms very early on. In many ways I think I felt initial relief knowing there is a real answer or cause to the torticollis and other issues she has been experiencing. But as I have researched and talked to several doctors over the last few days I am realizing the road ahead for us is not an easy one and includes some form of neurological surgery to try to give her relief and the best chance for normal development. I'm back to holding loosely.

On the front of Danica's baby book is a quote from Roy Lessin.
Just think,
you’re here not by chance,
but by God’s choosing.
His hand formed you
and made you the person you are.
He compares you to no one else—
you are one of a kind.
You lack nothing that
His grace can’t give you.
He has allowed you to be here
at this time in history
to fulfill His special purpose
for this generation.

Beginning March 23, 2007, the day I found out I was pregnant with this little girl, God has been making a way for Danica and preserving her life in miraculous ways. Friday Dan emailed me the verses from Psalm 139 I clung to while fighting for her those long months laying in the hospital. "For you have formed my inward parts; You have covered me in my mother's womb. I will praise You, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made; Marvelous are Your works, And that my soul knows very well. My frame was not hidden from You, When I was made in secret, And skillfully wrought in the lowest parts of the earth. Your eyes saw my substance, being yet unformed. And in Your book they all were written, The days fashioned for me, When as yet there were none of them."

Do I believe God makes no mistakes? Do I believe He lovingly formed this child's skull and brain how we find it today to fulfill His purpose in her life and in ours? Do I believe we lack nothing God's grace can't give us including strength for today and the days ahead? My verse for this week has been Mark 9:24 "I do believe; help me overcome my unbelief."

I'm afraid. I'm so very tired. I know that trusting God with my child is perhaps the hardest thing He will ask me to do. As He grows my faith and asks me to rest in His promises. I will fall. I will have moments of anger and confusion. I will want to quit and walk away.

Oswald Chambers wrote, "Living a life of faith means never knowing where you are being led. But it does mean loving and knowing the One who is leading. It is literally a life of faith, not of understanding and reason — a life of knowing him who calls us to go." Knowing a God who is unchanging and will do everything He says He will do is the only way I will navigate through the next weeks and months. I believe.

Just as I am

I only like clean, neat, pressed things. If something has a chip or a scratch or a wrinkle I really don't want it any more. Even if it can be fixed but I know where it was fixed I can't get that out of my mind, and it still drives me crazy. I have a sickness of sorts that follows me into almost every area of my life. I need things to be whole. Sunday as I was getting ready for church I pulled on my white sweater and noticed a little wrinkle in the front. Let me tell you this was a newly dry cleaned sweater that came off a hanger, and I know the wrinkle was probably not noticeable to any one else. I plugged the iron in and instead of taking the sweater off to iron the tiny spot I put the hot iron on my belly to try to quickly fix the problem. Well, just as I did that a huge spirt of steam came out and burned me. Not just an ouch--too hot--kind of burn but the kind that left two large burn marks on my stomach.

Every day sine then as I shower or get dressed I see these big red marks on my stomach, and I have been thinking about why I am so afraid to be a little messed up. Why do I feel like I have to keep holding everything together all the time? Would it be so bad to let someone see me with a wrinkled blouse or a dirty house or completely prostrate in tears because I am just too overwhelmed? I think as a Christian I am always supposed to be strong and courageous and full of peace and joy, etc. So today I found some quiet time and started searching the Bible and guess what? God delights in our brokeness. He came to clean up messes. He came to patch us back together with the super glue of His grace and make us whole. Not the kind of repair job where no one can see where we've been either. The kind where everyone can see we were shattered in a million pieces beyond hope and He fixed us! This brings Him glory! When I read the Psalms and the Old Testament prophets I see this so clearly. They weren't afraid to let it all hang out there. They had times of complete anguish over circumstances and sin and their own inadequacies. God included this over and over again in His Word for a reason.

So here I am. I'm a mess. It's ok. I've been saved by a God who has purged me with hyssop and made me clean. He has washed me and made me white as snow. He has bound up my broken heart and gently led me in paths of righteousness. He's not ashamed of the brokeness--the years of promiscuity, drug use, unfaithfulness, idolatry, and even murder. While I was yet a sinner He sent His Son to die for me. He calls me His daughter and He is my ABBA Father. I have been reading several blogs lately where godly women are brave enough to expose the cracks and tell the truth about just how big a mess their lives were before God saved them. I see the response of the readers and it reminds me how scared we are in the body of Christ to really be vunerable. We are afraid to share our sin and our stories of where grace found us. I know for sure this is exactly where God can be most glorified and where He can lovingly call others to Himself--speaking through our brokeness and His amazing love. I am praying for courage today to come to God and live before others just as I am.


Just as I am.
By: Charlotte Elliott

Just as I am, without one plea
But that thy blood was shed for me
And that thou bidd’st me come to thee
O Lamb of God, I come, I come.

Just as I am and waiting not
To rid my soul of one dark blot,
To thee, whose blood can cleanse each spot,
O Lamb of God, I come, I come.

Just as I am, though tossed about
With many a conflict, many a doubt,
Fightings and fears within, without,
O Lamb of God, I come, I come.

Just as I am, poor, wretched, blind;
Sight, riches, healing of the mind,
Yea, all I need, in thee to find,
O Lamb of God, I come, I come.

Just as I am, thou wilt receive,
Wilt welcome, pardon, cleanse, relieve;
Because thy promise I believe,
O Lamb of God, I come, I come.

Just a I am; thy love unknown
Has broken every barrier down;
Now to be thine, yea, thine alone,
O Lamb of God, I come, I come.

Prayer . . . REST

I have spent my day frantic, in tears and desperation because I have sought answers for months now in ways to heal my daughter and feel no closer to any real help for this little one. A failed attempt at her sedation and MRI last week and now a fever keeping us from sedation and botox tomorrow. I wonder if they are signs from God to turn away from such invasive efforts. If so, what else am I to do? Where am I to turn? How am I to pay for new efforts when You have only given me so much? I want to control this situation. I want the timing to be now. I have to fix this.

I settle my sick baby to nap and instead of work that needs done I quiet my heart and reach for His truth, "Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest." Matthew 11:28

I go back to a post from dear Ann at A Holy Experience, "What could change everything: A pilgrimage into prayer" Yes, prayer is the essence of rest. This baby girl is His, not mine. He loves her infinitely more than I do, and He is working His perfect plan in Her life and mine. He will lead us closer to Him through every challenge because His yoke is easy and His burden is light. REST. PRAY. REST. PRAY. REST.

Small Acts

I guess you can say I took the summer off from blogging. I began writing privately, and it made me even more real with God and myself about the work He is doing in me. I feel sad though as I come back to this little place where I live out loud and see so many days missing.

The weeks gone from here were so much the same, and in many ways I numbed myself to the monotony. I spent much of the past three months driving to and from the Chldren's hospital with my Danica taking her to doctor's appointments and physical therapy that really seemed to be doing very little good. I spent the nights running lists on a database which is about as exciting as watching grass grow. In between I would make the beds, make lunch, clean up lunch, make dinner, clean up dinner, give the girls baths, read a story, put them to bed. I would think, "If only I didn't have to run these lists and could enjoy being a full time mom. Then I would be happy." I remembered summers growing up with trips to the pool and playing outdoors for hours and fun activities planned by my mom. I felt bitter and resentful that my kids were trapped indoors while I hopped on and off my laptop for work. Some days I would literally long for a different life. I know this sounds horrible, but it's true. Not a different husband or children or house or car but a life back in the midst of people doing work that makes a difference--something I could see in the Saturday paper and eventual sales. Praying, "If I HAVE to work then please let it be something I WANT to do." I love marketing because it is results driven and success is measured in tangible ways. Creating lists for random clients certainly not so rewarding. Each time I would begin to dust off my resume and search for a way out of this angst God would answer with another reason why I need to be HERE, patiently showing me THIS daily life is His perfect plan for me.

I have prayed a lot about how to make my circle of relationship larger through church and find God saying no to even that right now. When someone would have a baby or would have surgery I would sign up to take a meal. Then it became not just a sacrifice but a near impossibility to minister in this way because of the therapy schedule and my work. God saying to me, "Be faithful right here, right now." Why is this sometimes the hardest thing to do? I couldn't even find time to have coffee with a friend or make it out of the house for a book club or a hair cut. Not a matter of changing priorities or making "me" time, simply the true and constant need for me to be at home working and caring for my girls. Why is the ministry to my husband and my children not enough for me? Why do I need affirmation from someone else, somewhere else, doing something else?

In a beautifully written book, by L.L. Barkat, "Stone Crossings, Finding Grace in Hard and Hidden Places," she says in a chapter about sacrifice,

". . .Or maybe on that day Jesus will speak to each of us much as He spoke to Peter. Maybe he will meet us over a fish breakfast, look us in the eye and say, "Did you love Me? Did you tend my sheep? Did you care for my children?" Tending sheep is a mundane job. It is a lot of the same old, same old--the way we feed kids breakfast, lunch and dinner, or drive to the office and deal with the same people day after day. It is repetitive, like building a stone wall rock by rock across the landscape. So it's easy for us to overlook the power of small acts that are folded again and again into the meandering swish of common love. . . Because the rewards are quiet, being dependable in common love is not always inviting. The reward of putting rock on rock isn't always visible. Sometimes the work is dirty. We get scraped and bored. We don't always see the wall of grace we're building for the Lord."

Today my Laney headed back to school and second grade. The house is quieter, and I miss her. Danica is a little lost without her big "sishy" to tussle with and play with and to read books to her and show her the ropes. Tomorrow Danica will head back to the hospital for an MRI, more tests to try to find the cause of her little crooked neck. What will we remember of the last three months together? SACRIFICE. All of us--giving up things we wanted to be doing, places we wished we could go to place lasting stones of loving one another in small acts into the great wall of grace this family is becoming.

"Whatever you do, whether in word or deed, do it all in the name of the Lord Jesus." Col 3:17

MIA

Wow, it's been so long since I wrote here. Sometimes life just takes you down to a place where any meaningful writing needs to be kept private. I know the people who are are brave enough to share their hearts during those times are often the best writers, but I am not there yet. I have been thinking and feeling and praying some really raw and ugly things about my circumstances and wrestling with principalities and powers. I can tell you God is always victorious, but I am battle weary to a point I may have never been before. This morning as I watched the rain falling I prayed the words of this beautiful song by "Mercy Me." Jesus, bring the rain! Be glorified through all this and make me more like You.