Let's have a conversation.

I've been thinking.  

Yesterday I had lunch with a lovely young lady.  She's insightful and kind, and her very nature is to want to help, heal, cure everyone around her.  She's 15 years old and wiser than most of us.  She said, "Everyone has holes they're trying to fill, and they're just filling them with the wrong stuff."

And I read this: http://www.perrynoble.com/2012/08/01/ben-jerrys-chic-fil-a-political-correctness/

(Seriously, take a minute and go read it. It'll be well worth your time!)

We know the answer, right?  Everyone has holes, and they're trying to fill them with the wrong stuff.  The right stuff is Jesus.

But somehow in the name of our Lord, we have managed to marginalize and outright hurt those who need Him the most.  I don't mean the whole Chick-fil-A thing.  That's not what this is about.  I mean we have this ability to pick out the sins that others struggle with but we do not so we can stand above those who are hurting and look down on them.  It keeps us safe.  Makes us feel holier.  And it's destroying this world.

Michael Patz described a conversation with a homosexual.  When the man found out Michael was a minister, he expected condemnation.  And why not?  What have we (Christians) collectively demonstrated?  That blog post got me to imagining.

Let's say you encounter a homosexual like Michael did.  Let's say that person responds to your Christianity like the person Michael described.  How could you respond?  How about this:

You: Look around you.  How many people here do you think have had sex outside of marriage?

Viewed pornography?

Lusted?

Envied?

Been unforgiving?

Loved money?

(you get the idea)

Did I condemn any of them?  Did I go yell at them?  Did I treat them with any unkindness at all?

Them: No.

You: Then why would I be any different to you?

 Everyone has holes, and they're trying to fill them with the wrong stuff.  Here's where you introduce Jesus.  

Wait, you mean you want me to bring Jesus into this conversation?

Yes, yes I do.

I've heard it said that people can argue the points of the Bible but cannot argue with your own story.  So here's what I recommend.

Introduce them to Jesus by introducing them to what Jesus has done for you.

Tell them your story.

Then listen to theirs.

 Everyone has holes, and they're trying to fill them with the wrong stuff.  The right stuff is Jesus.

We have marginalized, minimized, ignored, and outright condemned too many people.  

 It's time for us to step up and love.

Take a moment now.  Look around you.  Who is hurting?  Marginalized?  Minimized?  Ignored?  Condemned?

How about this:

 Everyone has holes, and they're trying to fill them with the wrong stuff.  The right stuff is Jesus.

Have a conversation.  Share your story.  Listen to theirs.

A Mother's Heart

I love being a mom.

It's the hardest job I've ever had.  It requires my best, and I fail...a lot.  But I DELIGHT in my boys.  I love, love, love being their mom.

We lost a baby before having Tovi.  That pain and grief left me sensitive to those who can't have kids or have lost theirs.  And because of the damage and subsequent surgery resulting from the combination of Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome and my pregnancies, I cannot have more kids.  That has left me grateful for the opportunity to have had mine.  Each of my boys is a precious blessing.

Even when one poops his pants, or another lets the cat out, or when my patience runs drier than our recent Mid-Western draught, I am grateful.

I have these moments as a mom that fill my heart with gratitude for this opportunity to raise them.  Many of you know these moments, and as you read mine, your eyes will tear up with the recollection of your own.  Please share!  We, as parents, love bragging on our kids more than virtually anything else.  Here are a few of mine:

This morning, we were preparing to take a picnic lunch to the park, and Tovi was running in and out of the kitchen while I was fixing our lunch.  At one point he ran in, breathless, and gasped, "Mom, I don't know if I'm strong enough."  He was pretending to be one hero or another.  But in that moment, I saw both my little boy and also this vast, challenging, beautiful world he is facing.  He wasn't just a kid madly in love with all things Batman; he was a future man, a man after God's own heart, a man destined for greatness.  So I had a rare stroke of genius.

 Seriously.  This was motherhood gold.  

The boys have been memorizing Ephesians 6:10: Be strong in the Lord and in his mighty power.  So when my little boy said, "I don't know if I'm strong enough," I knelt down and said, "Tovi, what does Ephesians 6:10 say?" He quoted it to me, and I continued, "So who makes you strong?"  He thought for a moment (undoubtedly processing that Lord=God...hard concept for a 4 year old to grasp), and then his eyes lit up.  He proclaimed, "GOD!"

"Yes, my dear, God makes you strong!  So you see, you ARE strong enough because God makes you strong!"  He was bursting with this news and sprinted from the room to share this with his little brother and fight off all the invisible foes his oversized imagination could muster.

And then the icing: From his position on the stairs, I heard 2-year-old Oren say, in his adorable little voice, "Be strong in the Lord and in his mighty power!"

Yep, moment of gratitude.

Other moments aren't quite as allegorical or philosophical, but they leave me equally grateful for these precious, spirited boys.  A short while after the above account (I was still wrist-deep in the peanut butter jar), Tovi was pretending that bad guys were blowing up the house.  If you've seen the old 1960's Batman series, you know how prevalent cartoonish bombs are in those story lines.  These are the bombs Tovi was imagining.  I told him he'd need to fix our house, and he said, with all sincerity, "But Mom, I don't have any house pieces in these pockets!"

Oh, I should have thought of that.  Of course you don't have any house pieces in your pockets.  We left those in yesterday's shorts.

Tonight, I suspected that announcing, "It's bedtime!" would lead to some resistance, so instead I asked them what time they thought it was and then asked a series of silly, rhetorical questions.

"Is it breakfast time?"
"Noooo!"

"Is it clip-our-toenails time?"
"Noooo!"

"Is it wear-a-silly-hat time?"
"...Yes!"

OK, so silly hats it is! I grabbed my giant black sun hat from the peg above the entry way closet and dropped it on Oren's head, amid giggles and hiccups.

Once Oren chucked the hat to the floor, I asked, "Is it put-on-our-jammies-brush-our-teeth-and-snuggle-Mommy time?"
"Yeah, it's snuggle-Mommy time!"
Bedtime snuggles are the very, very best.

Finally, one more.  My boys are of an age where a kiss from Momma can still fix anything.  Their giant stuffed lion, whom Tovi dubbed Morris after the cat-food mascot (no matter the fact that this lion is, in fact, a lioness), suffered a fatal wound today.  Granted, the wound was imagined.  But for all intents and purposes, Morris was dead.  "Don't worry, I can fix it!" I said.  Tovi looked doubtful, but handed Morris over to me.  I asked where the wound was and planted a magic Mommy kiss on the spot, and Morris roared back to life.  Problem solved.  Oren functions under this same rule of logic.  He screams easily, and it's not a pleasant sound.  Every bump, scrape, stumble, or even hurt feeling leads to this scream, and he will sustain it until he receives his remedy: a kiss from Mommy.  And if I happen to miss the spot, even by millimeters, I must try again.  And again.  But the fact that, with the mere brush of my lips, I can solve the biggest problems in his little life, fills me with love and pleasure.  I delight in being his mom and in the magic of motherhood being enough to cure all ails.

You see, the reason my eyes fill with tears so easily when it comes to my children is that I know how fleeting these days are.  Someday my boys will face problems that can't be solved with a kiss or a snuggle.  Some  hurts will be too big for me to fix.  Someday they'll be out of my grasp, and those sweet, tender bedtime snuggles will be long behind us.  Someday they'll disappoint me.  They'll mess up.  They will suffer broken hearts, wounded pride, lessons in humility.  And I won't be able to rescue them.

They may even get sick.  Suffer.  Die.  No, I can't save them from everything, no matter how much I love them.  My dear cousin Mary's grief over her precious daughter Myah, gone too soon due to the evil that is childhood cancer, is proof of that.  No matter how much we love our children, we can't save them.

So I will cling to these moments, these brief days, and delight in the imagination, the snuggles, the kisses, the laughter, even the frustration, poopy pants, and doors left ajar.  

I will impress upon my memory the sound of little voices reciting scripture, of giggles turning to hiccups, of breakfast dishes tossed into a sink still above a toddler's head.  

I will cherish every soapy toe, sweaty brow, grubby hand.  

I will kiss each dimple and freckled nose. 

And I will spend a small fortune on rides at the zoo.  

Because I have today.  I pray I have tomorrow.  But someday...I won't.

So today, I am grateful.

An Opportunity for Adventure

Last month, on our way home from vacation, we attended church at Southeast Christian Church.  In the sermon, the preacher talked about a family in the congregation who had lost their home and possessions to a fire.  He said their response to those circumstances surprised him.  Although living out of a hotel room for months on end, the family insisted this was an opportunity for an unexpected adventure.

Wow.

Most of us get grouchy at stop lights, long check-out lines, or slow internet speeds.  Yet this family faced undeniably difficult circumstances with an attitude the Swiss Family Robinson would admire.

This idea of facing life's challenges as opportunities for adventure really struck a chord with me.  I'm a naturally optimistic person.  If you cut me off in traffic, I'll assume you're in a hurry because you really have to pee.  If you're short with me at the check-out counter, I'll assume you have a lot on your mind.  I'm not easily frazzled, and it takes a lot to get me down.  But I'd never intentionally faced potentially frustrating circumstances as adventures.

I'm raising two imaginative boys, so "adventure" would suit our family well.  Kids are naturally drawn to adventure.  Every dry twig is a sword, every bike helmet turns you into a Power Ranger, and every bathtub is a brave vessel traversing the high seas.

What happens to us that as adults we lose this sense of adventure? Why do we accept our irritation at every hiccup and delay?  Yes, we have places to be and things to do.  But is our frustration, anger, and negativity really helping anything?

My life, like yours, includes its share of challenges.  But since hearing that sermon a month ago, I've been trying out this "opportunity for adventure" idea.  I'd like to share some reflections with you.

Shortly after returning home from that restful vacation, this happened:

 Yes, that's our wonderful, LOADED van smooshed under a tree.  It was a scary experience, but no one was hurt, and that's what you have insurance for, right?  Opportunity for adventure.  But as one dealer put it, people like shopping for cars about as much as they like going to the dentist.  Nathan and I liked the IDEA of looking for a car.  You get to dream a bit, look at features, consider upgrading or cutting costs.  But the reality was that we had a week of church camp, then Nathan had a full load at work, and car shopping with two preschoolers in tow, during nap time, is NOT an easy experience.  We were sweaty, frustrated, frazzled, embarrassed, and to top it off, Nathan and I wereNOT seeing eye-to-eye on anything.  Adventure? Ha! We were lucky to survive!

In the midst of this, I woke up one morning in a terrible funk.  Like a woke-up-on-the-wrong-side-of-the-bed-then-stepped-on-legos-before-unintentionally-roller-skating-down-the-stairs-which-happened-to-be-covered-in-lobsters-and-mouse-traps kind of funk.  It was bad.  Now, I wasn't lying when I said I'm naturally optimistic.  Bad moods like that are not my norm.  And I recognized this particular bad mood right away.  I even posted to Facebook about it, saying that I knew I was responsible for my attitude even when in a bad mood.  But you know how bad moods go.  Nate and I had a very uncomfortable phone conversation, I stewed some more, then we tried to drag those rambunctious punkins of ours car shopping during nap time, again.  Sigh.

The whole time, despite my overly-sensitive emotions and eyebrows pulled so far down over my eyes it was difficult to see, this verse ran through my head, persistently:
¹⁶ Rejoice always, ¹⁷ pray continually, ¹⁸ give thanks in all circumstances; for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus.
(1 Thessalonians 5:16-18)
"Give thanks in all circumstances..."  Yep.  Although this passage fits the idea of "opportunity for adventure" quite well, it DID NOT fit my attitude.  Nothing like memorized scripture to set me straight.

In the end, we DID pick a car:

And it's a lovely vehicle.  It met nearly every wish-list item (and several I didn't know I wanted until I saw this, like a cooler in the glove box?!), seats as many people as our van did, is less of a monthly payment than our van had been, is cooler than a van (yes!), and we were able to agree on it.  The problem, though, is that I lost that sense of adventure, and in doing so, dragged my family down with me.  We could have really enjoyed the whole process and modeled this adventurous attitude for our kids.  Instead, I behaved like a spoiled, grumpy brat.  Oops.

Let's try again!

Nate's gone this week.  In the world of youth ministry, there's a saying: "I'm a youth ministry widow."  Many of my friends know exactly what I mean!  You may not know this, but youth ministers are away from home often.  They work really crazy hours.  And it can be stressful for their families.

Early in Nate's ministry, I DID NOT handle him being away from home well. I whined and put a lot of pressure on him to stay with me. I seriously hindered his ministry. But I have successfully reformed my attitude, and in recent years, I've tried to see the times he's away as opportunities to make really special memories for our boys.  Just like my attitude set the tone for our family while car shopping (FAIL), my attitude when Dad's away will set the tone for our kids.  They can dread Dad being gone, or they can look forward to these new adventures.

But guess what?  It's been raining.  Don't get me wrong; we need the rain! But rainy days when home alone with your kids for nearly 6 full days...eeek!

Opportunity for adventure!

Here's Monday:

About 10:30 AM I resigned myself to the fact that the day would be soggy.  So we donned our costumes (yes, we have super hero costumes on hand in ample supply) and set off for the World War II Victory Museum down the road.  They have an exhibit of Carl Casper's celebrity cars, including a Batmobile, Batman motorcycle with Robin side car, Penguin's giant duck-vehicle-thing, etc.  The boys are still free, and my admission was cheap, so we had a couple hours of fun hanging out in the museum with Batman.  The boys even talked me in to lunch at "Happy Donald's" (McDonald's to those of you who don't combine Happy Meal with Mc Donald's the way my kids do), still in full costume.  It was fun!  A great way to fill a rainy morning :) Adventure=success!

Tuesday, it rained again.  In fact, it rained more than Monday.  And boy, were we feeling it!  That grumpiness was edging in on all three of us, and I knew we had to do SOMETHING!  I didn't really feel like going out again (I'm a little nervous about storms after the whole tree-falling-on-our-van episode), so I set up a couple projects using materials we had around the house.

 We used up some old salt dough, some twigs, yarn, peanut butter, and bird seed.

Bird feeders!

Next, I let the boys explore scissors and glue.  They thought they were playing.  But I knew they were working on fine motor skills and learning to cut with the thumb on top.  They loved it!

Now that I've been trying to see potential frustrations as opportunities for adventure for about a month, I have some conclusions:

1) It takes work.  There are plenty of people in this world who will tell you that all your emotions are justified, that if things make you mad you're allowed to behave accordingly.  But I don't believe that's true.  I believe we are responsible for our attitudes no matter our circumstances. Go re-read that verse I included.  Follow it up with this one:
⁵ In your relationships with one another, have the same mindset as Christ Jesus. (Philippians 2:5)
Or this one:
¹⁴ Do everything without grumbling or arguing. (Philippians 2:14)
I think the Apostle Paul had it worse than I do.
Yet when the going got tough in my life, my natural inclination was to get grumpy, selfish, short-tempered, impatient, etc.  I had to consciously work at my attitude (seeking forgiveness along the way), spending time praying and seeking the wisdom of God's word.

2) Similarly, approaching frustration as adventure is easier when alone.  I wouldn't have wanted to car shop alone (in fact, Nathan offered to let me do it alone, and I freaked out), but most of our separate grumpiness came from being out of sync with each other.  Apart, we probably would have made it through with better attitudes.  Together, we brought each other down (and the boys with us).  Related to #1, to make this work as a family, we're going to have to work at it AS A FAMILY.  We all have to be on board with CHOOSING to have a good attitude despite our circumstances, to help each other keep those attitudes up, giving grace and space when needed, and setting the tone with a (hopefully) contagious good attitude and excitement.

3) Some adventures are planned, and some we enter unwittingly...maybe even kicking and screaming.  Think Indiana Jones.  He ran head-long into adventure.  His gal-pal, not so much.  But she became part of the adventure whether she liked it or not.  And at some point, she inevitably got caught up in the thrill of the adventure.  I think life works this way too.  Sometimes we get enough notice that a potentially frustrating circumstance is coming that we can plan ahead and actively seek ways to make it an adventure and to be on guard against those bad attitudes.  Other times, we are thrust into the story whether we like it or not.  In those times, I think it's best to let go of our own emotions or agendas and dive right in.  I was thankful to have some rainy-day plans ready to roll this week.  Maybe every family should have some sort of adventure inventory so, when emotions encroach, you don't have to think too much or plan too much to make it a more positive experience.  Be ready to roll with some bad mood busters.

4) I believe this is an important attitude to teach our children.  As parents, we play a huge role in shaping the adults our children will become.  We can shape our kids into adults who gripe and complain at every frustration and challenge, or we can shape them into adults who can find the adventure in even the mundane delays.  Which would be more fun to be around?  Which would more accurately reflect those verses I included?

5) But to do that, to help my children become adventurous, positive adults, I need to keep my own attitude in check.  This is NOT easy.  It takes intentional effort.  Continuous effort.  I have to ask for my family's forgiveness often. I pray for patience (ouch!). I need to take enough time to myself that I can be refreshed and rested enough to be...enough...for my family.  And I need to commit verses to memory that will help guide me when my own emotions threaten to run away with me.

I think seeking the adventure in life is worth it.

What are your thoughts?  Do you have any experiences with adventures to share?  Are you more like Indiana Jones or the gal pal?  What are your favorite bad mood busters?

Guest-Post: Another Example of Life with EDS

Here's a guest-post by fellow EDS-er Adrienne!

Hi there to all of Katie’s readers! My name is Adrienne and I’ve gotten to know Katie because we both share the same collagen disorder known as Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome. I’m 37 years old and I have two sons who are 9 and 7 who are both extremely active and boisterous and require a lot of physical and emotional attention, which isn’t easy for anyone all of the time, but especially not for someone suffering from chronic pain. Parents with EDS live every day dealing with random injuries and pain in various parts of the body, including: neck, back, hips, ankles, fingers, elbows, shoulders, intestines, eyes, bladder, feet and toes.

Evidently I’ve had this disorder all my life but have only recently been diagnosed with it. I’ve had odd pains since my teenage years, though nothing was TOO bad until my late 20s, after I had my children. Parenting young children is a considerable job in itself, and working outside of the home while trying to parent them is a feat that only super-humans can successfully achieve! I stayed home with them when they were young but then went back to work two years ago only to discover that my body could no longer physically withstand an 8 hour work day.

Last year I had to say goodbye to the old me and say hello to the new me with limitations. I had to explain to my children that I can’t do all of the physically active things that we used to do, and that was really tough. I went through a really emotional time while I mourned my lost abilities to run, hike, carry my kids, and play on playgrounds.

Though I lost some abilities, I gained so much in the way of mental strength and focus.  I had to quit the job that I started but I became insanely determined to create a life for myself that worked. Through persistence, therapy (both physical and mental), a deluge of medications and supplements, a shift in the way I ate, intense focus on meditation, and learning to ask for help when I need it, I have managed to look at my life with a positive spin.  I sometimes still long to hike to the top of a steep hill to feel the rush of the breeze and to see the city below. The other night I cried because I probably shouldn’t have any more children if I can’t adequately carry them. But, overall, when I look at my life now, with a disability, I am so much happier and grounded than ever before.

Whether you were forced to slow down or you chose to, what did you discover when you looked at your life with a disability?

Adrienne McGuire is a writer, website consultant and wellness enthusiast who abandoned the corporate ladder to create the life she really wanted.  Her journey down the road less traveled took her to www.dailypath.com , where she is now an integral part of the writing team.

Stagnation

Stagnation is rarely good.  Stagnant water stinks and is a haven for bacteria.  I've heard it said that some sharks will die if they stop swimming, or stagnate.  Likewise, if people stagnate, we begin to stink, and in some ways, we even die.

Don't know about you, but I'd rather not stagnate!

In the interest of always moving forward, always reaching up and on, sometimes I need to shake things up a bit.

In the summer time, I set up a typical backyard kiddie pool for my punkins.  The flattest part of our yard is under a big, beautiful shade tree.  But this shade tree drops leaves, seed pods, and bugs into our clean, cool water.  The results aren't pretty.  In no time at all, that crisp, cool, straight-from-the-hose water is green, slimy, and smells awful.  Yuck.  Seriously, a B-horror movie monster could live in there.  In order to clean the pool and return it to appropriate playability, I either have to add chemicals or dump the whole thing out, scrub the pool, and refill it (and repeat often).  Neither solution is easy.  I worry about chemicals in water my young kids will play in and likely, despite my best efforts, drink.  But dumping, scrubbing, and refilling wastes tons of water and time, not to mention the lost play time.

Addressing stagnation in my life is equally challenging.  It's painful.  It requires work.  And there's risk.  But remember the alternative?  I don't want to be a dead shark.  Or a slimy pool.

So in an effort to avoid stagnation, I sometimes seek ways to change and, hopefully, improve.  But sometimes change finds me.

Several weeks ago, during a small group lesson at the home of our friends Jeremy and Tahlia, we were discussing prayer.  Jeremy said that he was beginning to grow uncomfortable with some of the "typical" prayers we lift to God.  When someone asks if anyone has any prayer requests, the most common things we mention are health-related: healing, safety, relief from pain.  These are not bad requests.  But what is the point of these prayers?  What are we seeking to gain?  These prayers may be a little limited in scope.  Jeremy said he was beginning to understand that we need to be praying that God will be glorified.  So rather than merely praying for healing or relief from pain, we need to be praying that God will be glorified through our illness or injury, surgery or hardship.  Praying for healing is not bad, but it's not the end of the story.  We need to reach beyond ourselves, beyond our physical, mortal bodies.  We need to be praying that God's glory may be known through our experiences and how we respond to the challenges of life.

This really impacted me.

After my last post, many of you commented that my attitude and joy were really impacting you.  I'm glad!  But I want to be clear: my attitude, my joy, are not from me.  You see, I started praying differently after that small group conversation.  While Jeremy was sharing what he was learning about prayer, God reminded me of an interview I had heard on the radio years before while driving to work at the fantastic East Town Mall in Knoxville.  The lady on the radio was saying that she thanked God for her cancer.  A statement like that is something your ears perk up to.  She went on to explain that if she didn't have cancer, people wouldn't notice her, wouldn't "hear" her.  Instead, battling cancer gave her a platform and an audience.  Thus her life had an impact.  And God was glorified through her cancer.

Wow.

As I drove across the train tracks that afternoon, I remember praying, "God, if I ever get cancer, I pray I can glorify you through it the way she does.  I pray I can see it as a blessing."

I don't have cancer.  But I do have an incurable and largely untreatable genetic connective tissue disorder, which has led to another incurable and largely untreatable autonomic nervous system disorder.  When I was undiagnosed, I prayed a lot for answers.  I thought I was crazy, that everyone feels this way, that for some reason I was just too weak to take it.  I was losing my mind.  God did bless me with answers (thankfully!), but also with the opportunity to glorify him through this journey.  How I respond to the bad days, to the pain, to the limitations and challenges can either look exactly like everyone else in the world: woe is me, life is so hard, this is unfair, there's so much pain.  Or my response can look different, odd, noticeable.  The world can look at how I respond to illness and say, "Wow, imagine that!  Imagine thanking God for illness!"  Maybe the world will see it as odd.  Maybe I'll seem crazy all over again :)  But maybe they'll wonder what my secret is, how I can still smile in the midst of my pain and hardship.  

My answer is no secret.  The answer is 

God.

That night at small group turned my prayer life upside-down.  Since then, whenever I have a bad day, I still hurt, Iget discouraged, and sometimes I even curl up and cry.  But God has opened my eyes to all the blessings.  When you seek to have purpose in your pain, the pain seems less, and the blessings seem more.  So I can smile :)

Friday night I fainted in Wal-Mart.  It was scary, embarrassing, and generally unpleasant.  But I was also very blessed: 

• Nathan was in the store and was able to come to my aide quickly.
• Oren stayed by my side and didn't run away.
• An associate found me and offered help.
• I made it to a shelf of tote boxes and slid to the ground, avoiding falling hard or hitting my head.
• And sitting the 45 minutes until my head cleared enough to go home gave me time to read from the Bible app on my phone.

Here's what I read:

⁶ Paul and his companions traveled throughout the region of Phrygia and Galatia, having been kept by the Holy Spirit from preaching the word in the province of Asia. ⁷ When they came to the border of Mysia, they tried to enter Bithynia, but the Spirit of Jesus would not allow them to. ⁸ So they passed by Mysia and went down to Troas. ⁹ During the night Paul had a vision of a man of Macedonia standing and begging him, “Come over to Macedonia and help us.”¹⁰ After Paul had seen the vision, we got ready at once to leave for Macedonia, concluding that God had called us to preach the gospel to them. (Acts 16)

This has always struck me as odd.  Here Paul and his companions were trying to go, to spread the gospel.  And God said no.

Sometimes God's answer is no.

Maybe that means we aren't healed.  Or the pain won't cease.  Or we'll even be allowed to die.

But that's not the end of the story!

When Paul and his companions were stopped from going where they planned to go, God sent them elsewhere.  Paul had a vision, they met Lydia, healed a slave girl,

and wound up in prison.

Looks bleak, right?

But that's not the end of the story!

God freed Paul and Silas from their chains, but they stayed, and they sang God's praises and ministered to the jailer and led him to Christ.

When the answer is no, look for the blessings, the opportunities, and glorify God.  When Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego faced the flames of the furnace, they said that their God was mighty enough to save them, but that even if he didn't, they would still praise him.

God may save you from your hardship.  You may find healing.  But even if you don't, God is still good, and maybe there's someone you're supposed to impact through your hardship.  When you're facing the furnace, can you still praise God even if his answer is no?

I don't want to be a dead shark or a slimy pool.  I don't want to stagnate.  God turned my prayer life upside-down, and in doing so, turned my life right-side up.  Change is rarely easy or comfortable.  But we need change.  Without it, we stink.  And no one likes the stinky kid!

So when you pray, pray for God to be glorified, even when the answer is no, even when you face the furnace, and that if you find yourself in jail, you'll sing his praises and preach the gospel to your jailer!  May God be glorified through your weakness.  God made us limited so the world can see he is limitless!

An Update on My Health

Some of you have asked for an update on my health, and I can't find a way to do notes on Facebook anymore (except that they now let you write a status the length of a Super-Mega roll of toilet paper, which might be a tad obnoxious), so I'll write it here and link it on Facebook for those of you who are interested.

Slowly over the last few years (maybe longer), I've developed some symptoms that extend beyond even the bizarro-world of Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome.  Around Christmas, enough of those symptoms began to overlap that I realized I might be facing a new problem.  A month ago I saw the doctor, and he ordered some tests to rule out more obvious causes like infection or inflammation.  Those tests were all normal.  Which is good...and bad.  I went back to the doctor today, and he confirmed my suspicions: I have autonomic nervous system dysfunction.

I know, I know.  You're asking, "What in the world is that?  What does that even mean?"  Well, in a nutshell, it means that the things my body is supposed to regulate automatically aren't being regulated.  That includes heart rate, temperature, blood pressure, circulation, aspects of vision and speech, and the movement of the digestive tract, among other things.  The most obvious symptoms I've been experiencing include:

• a disturbing lack of ability to poo (so much so that I'm now blogging publicly about it)
• numbness and tingling in my hands, arms, feet, and legs
• trouble speaking; my mind knows what it wants to say, but my mouth won't obey
• irregular heart rate
• irregular blood pressure
• feeling faint or dizzy
• fevers

So here's what that means for me.  I've been taking medication to regulate my BP and HR for a couple years.  That's already covered.  It will still fluctuate, but the meds will mostly keep it under control.  I now need medication to keep my GI system moving.  No meds, no movement.  We can't do anything about the fevers, dizziness, numbness, etc except to accommodate those things in my lifestyle and try to deal with them.

Encouraging, right?

I'm fortunate to have a truly amazing doctor.  He took a great deal of time with me today and demonstrated genuine compassion and concern.  He's working on getting me into a specialist, but that will likely take several months.  He's also trying to help me know what to do to manage my life.  He's the doctor for my whole family, so helping me deal with my conditions involves helping me take care of my life without sacrificing my family's well-being.

Now how does this impact my daily life?  I sought a transfer to a less stressful position at work but was denied.  I'm doing what I can to make my current position a little easier for me to manage.  And I'm grateful to have a job.  But it's hard.  My job isn't exactly killing me, but it is a huge part of why I keep getting worse instead of better.  My body just can't work that hard, with that much stress, every day and keep going without consequences.  I'm causing bits of damage every day that just build up because my body doesn't have a chance to rest and heal.  Don't get me wrong--I'm extremely grateful to have a job, and a job I love at that.  The great news is that I can provide for my family and continue my career.  The bad news is just that I might not physically be able to sustain this...even though I have to.  We cannot afford for me to not work, and I'm our insurance carrier, so this is it.

So how do I make it work?

• Family: Nathan is an amazing husband.  He is compassionate, patient, supportive, and strong.  He takes such great care of me.  I am so fortunate.  My kids love me, challenge me, delight me, and encourage me.  My parents, siblings, and Nathan's family are all so encouraging and supportive.  Our boys also have the best baby sitter imaginable.  She considers them her grandkids and us family.  I am blessed.
• Friends: I have the kind of friends that would be here in a heartbeat if I asked for help.  In fact, a friend was willing to leave her own job early to keep my kids so I could go to my appointment today.  Thankfully she didn't have to, but knowing she was willing...that's humbling. 
• My needs are met: I have a home, food on the table, cars to drive, insurance, even (meager) savings.  
• Balance: Some things matter.  Others don't.  A dirty floor will still be dirty tomorrow, but maybe rest today is more important.  Or dessert with a friend.  Or snuggles with my kids.  Or a date-in-night with Nathan.  I have HAD to learn to let some things go.  And that's OK.  And in a pinch, those family and friends I mentioned above are around to lend a hand.
• Joy:  Joy is a choice.  It's different than happiness.  We FEEL happiness.  It happens to us.  But joy is something we choose and claim no matter what happens to us.  And I choose joy.  Even on a bad day, I can count my blessings and smile a genuine (albeit tired) smile because despite it all, God is still good, I am still blessed, and when my head hits the pillow, I am satisfied I've given my best today.
• Faith: Listed last here, but not last in importance.  God sustains me.  When I am not enough, he is.  Even when I'm struggling, God has not left me.  He loves me.  And he has a purpose in all of this.  Maybe his purpose is that I impact someone else through my journey.

There ya go.  I never intended this blog space to be entirely about my health.  There are enough health blogs out there already.  Instead, this is just a place to share what it means to be ME, and yes, my health is a part of that.  There are lots of people in this world battling various forms of chronic illness.  I've noticed that a lot of them are defined by their conditions.  They focus on their symptoms, medications, appointments, and challenges to such a degree that we don't see the person anymore, just a diagnosis.  I commit to being more than that.  I am a person.  I am transparent--what you see is what you get--and I commit to living life as an open book.  I will not claim to have it all together (because I don't), to have all the answers (because I don't), or to know what tomorrow will bring (because I don't).  But I'm learning a lot on this journey, and I'm willing to share it all, the good and the bad.  And that's what this little blog space is all about.

I appreciate your prayers and support, but please remember, I'm OK.  No need to worry about me!  I promise I'm still smiling :)