Compared to What?

I received some news today that carried with it a certain amount of stress.

The news wasn't altogether shocking, but it was unwelcome for sure.

I heard the words, took a deep breath, and then began to pray and feel the myriad of emotions that come at stressful times, all at once.

It wasn't pretty.

My body doesn't seem to know what to do with stress. My head tries to give instructions, my heart believes all the right stuff, but my body.... well, it just doesn't listen.

And life? It just keeps going.

House cleaning, dog feeding, football practice chauffeuring, teenage parenting, they all still demand the same amount of attention.

Don't they know that my world just changed and my body's freaking out??

I found myself in a local grocery store a bit dizzy.

Not fun.

My husband and I had been in communication all day, texting some... talking some... and we decided to go to our parents for prayer and discussion, (always a good idea in our case), praying with them helped and I left a bit lighter than when I arrived.

But it didn't last long. Am I human or what?

I climbed back on that roller coaster of  emotions and began to feel pretty ill again. I asked to drive down some scenic roads instead of the usual ways home, so we did. No relief. I bought some coconut chocolate ice cream. No relief. I tried to think about the positive aspects of this news. No relief. I talked about how I was feeling with my husband. No relief.

I was miserable.

I felt mislead. Disappointed. Lied to in a way. I felt angry and sad and ridiculous for feeling all this stuff.

At home I gravitated toward normal comforts... prayer, pups, comfy couch. I chatted with a few trusted gals online.... and kept praying.

Then I asked the Lord for a new perspective....

...AND BOOM.

He changed it alrighty.

I had opened a tab that held links to all kinds of  good stuff on another blog I frequent, but I had never returned to look at the links... much less click on them and really take them in.

The Lord immediately drew my attention to one link and it was as if he moved the mouse over the link and clicked it for me. As the page opened I saw two people in hospital chairs hooked up to IV's. I recognized the body types... Cancer.

The photo journal that followed was pictures of the author's parents who had been both diagnosed at the same time with stage 4 cancer. He with pancreatic, she with breast cancer.... again.

I held my breath.

This has been a week of breathless moments for sure.... watching my middle son who not so long ago had five and a half hour cardiac surgery walk onto the field for his first high school football practice in our town... reading the news of a fellow home school mama of four precious little children whose 31 year old daddy and sole provider was killed by a hit and run driver... hearing our news that changes our world some... and then this.

These beautiful people married 34 years facing the meth-infused demon called Stage Four Cancer.

The photos were not incredibly recent, the husband had lost his battle with pancreatic cancer, but they are incredibly perspective altering.

I can't really help the way my damaged auto-immune disease ridden body reacts to stress, but I can choose how I filter it. What my attitude will be. Where I turn for wisdom and support. Who I trust. I have choices about how I handle the things that I didn't choose. The things I focus on and the way I react are mine to claim.

I looked at one of the photos and soaked in the smile of the wife as the husband did a funky dance move to get her to grin.... Her resolute and regal expression as she was being fitted for a new wig... Taking turns driving to treatments while the other slept in the back seat...

But the one that really got me, even beyond the photo of her mastectomy scar, was the one of their embrace. She so bald and thin, he bearing scars from countless treatments.... holding each other come what may. I'm not sure what the mood was, or the moment that spurred the photographer to capture it... but it caught me. I gazed at it a long while appreciating their willingness to share the heartbreaking intimacy of such commitment and compassion in the face of such a relentless enemy.

My shoulders softened. My breathing slowed. The permanent wrinkle between my eyebrows got a little less etched.... and I looked again at our news...

It's hard news for us sure, but COMPARED TO WHAT?

I asked and I received.

Maybe you did too.


See the photo journal here>>> http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2013/12/17/cancer-family_n_4455720.html


Help the mom with her 4 sweet kids here (her husband did really just die yesterday) >>> http://www.gofundme.com/dbo2mw


Proverbs 3:5-6
James 1:27

Jesus be all you need and so much more.....

Stained...

My husband and I like to talk. We like to talk a lot. To each other, to our family, to friends... you could safely say we are chatty people. 

Every day when we wake up we have a devotional time together. It helps to get our focus where it needs to be: on the Lord, not us. Sometimes, however, we must look at ourselves to get a clear picture of where we're at with the Lord and each other. We do this willingly, this self-inspection. Personal experience has taught us with an iron fist that holding onto our rights and refusing to take an accurate account of our attitudes is disastrous at best. 

Cue the other morning: We were having a conversation just like the thousands we have had before and were on the subject of upcoming events. Planning is usually not my forte and writing things down, (a.k.a. To-Do lists), has become an integral part of my being able to function. So there we were all snuggled in our bed, birds singing outside, the majestic firs swaying in the breeze, and I mentioned an upcoming event to my dear sweet husband. (No sarcasm intended, he really is a doll.) His response was said in the most innocent way possible, and yet I felt as if I had a pitcher of cold water thrown on my soul. We rarely, and I mean RARELY, have serious disagreements or say things that are hurtful to each other. (The latter of those two never being done intentionally.) We are careful with each other. Both of us have had significant brokenness in our past, and we honor each other by being intentionally tender.

But the way those 6 words hit me was not fun.

They felt insensitive and uncaring. The very fact that I felt that way after hearing them dismayed me even further due to the knowledge that my kind husband is neither. It sent me into an inward storm that had hurricane potential. 

So, I got quiet. 

Anyone who has known me for any length of time knows that being quiet is not my strong suit either. I have learned to think things through. To pray. To ask the Lord for His perspective and wisdom on the situation. This time though, I sat with my internal twister for a while. I wondered at it. I asked my husband about it after a little time had passed. I continued to nurse the pondering. 

I got out of bed and made my way to the sink, still unusually quiet. More often than not we make protein smoothies as part of our breakfast, they are simple and easy to swallow for those days when swallowing has been an issue. I had a real beauty this particular day, full of coconut milk and blueberries. Those things, along with the mandatory pea protein and banana, made a gorgeous deep eggplant color in my see through mug. Also on this day, I was wearing one of my favorite swimsuit cover-ups turned nightshirt. It is white gauze, has long sleeves, is a tunic type shape, and reminds me of Charles Ingalls' nightshirts. (That's a winner in my book.) 

On my way to the sink I grabbed my mug for a big slurp of coolness that might soothe the burn that was happening in my throat. But instead of connecting with my mouth, the edge of the mug connected with my nightshirt right at waist level. 

No good.

Eggplant colored smoothie on my favorite Charles Ingallsesque nightshirt? I felt the twister growing. I knew the smoothie would stain. From years of experience with children and mud, children and spaghetti, teenage girls and makeup, carpet and fruit punch, and other less mentionable substances. 

Ten years ago I would have thrown it out, or maybe made a valiant effort with some store bought product and elbow grease. 

Not any more. 

I have researched ad nauseum about stain removal. I have spent countless hours trying out different formulas and homemade concoctions. The internet and I have become conspirators in the battle against the stain, and more often than not: I WIN.

Looking down at the purple blot on my gauzy white gown, I was reminded of the scripture that says that all of my righteousness is as filthy rags (Is. 64:6), and I also thought instantly of the passage that talks about the Lord presenting the Church as a glorious Bride, without spot or blemish (Eph. 5:27). 

I LOVE THAT. I have ALWAYS loved that. The idea that I will someday be presented pure, spotless, and without any blemish! Robed in HIS righteousness alone? Perfect!

The how of it all has always fascinated me. The fact that Jesus makes us pure by His blood has always intrigued my science-nerd mind. It was a teensy bit like the first time I heard about this dark blue goopy soap that you could put on a stain on a WHITE sweater and it would remove the stain without leaving a trace of ever having been there. Dark blue plus crisp white had always equaled laundry failure in my book, but I got brave one day with a sweet little shirt that had a definite pizza stain. I also had already washed and DRIED it. I thought that shirt was headed for the dumpster for sure. But lo and behold, I applied the goopy dark blue soap and left the shirt overnight before I gave it another chance in the washer and... IT WORKED!

Jesus' blood is obviously much more miraculous and awesome than my goopy blue super soap, but it does work. Gloriously so! Even after I have haphazardly made a whopper of a careless mistake, or I have let an attitude fester in the drier of my heart for days, or weeks, or years. His blood is still enough to cleanse it. 

I brushed my teeth, after finishing my lovely smoothie of course, and let the truth of these scriptures sink into the depths of me along with the berries. Jesus, once again, had calmed the storm in me with His gentle reminder of His grace toward me and how I am to extend that same grace to others. 

I headed over to the cupboard where I keep my all-purpose homemade super stain remover spray bottle and went to work on the blot, knowing full well that it would be gone after the next wash. I also spent some time talking with the Lord about the blots in my heart that keep me vulnerable to certain phrases and words that aren't even a threat anymore. 

Placing the night shirt in the laundry hamper I smiled to myself knowing that the Stain Remover was already working.