Contemplating Death and Life

In 2005, doctors told me that I likely had ten years until I started experiencing symptoms of liver failure due to a rare disease where the bile ducts develop scar tissue and become blocked (primary sclerosing cholangitis).  Over the last year or two, I have had short seasons of symptoms that set me back from ‘normal’ life, but most of the time, I don’t think about it much because I feel well.  God knows the number of my days, not the doctors.

At the anniversary of my grandfather’s passing on to the other side, I am thinking of what he is doing, how long or short it will be when I will join him there, and what the end of this journey of my own life here will look like.  I think of the brevity of life and how my story fits into the longer story of eternity.  This reminds me of the beautiful closing paragraph from the Chronicles of Narnia:

But the things that began to happen after that were so great and beautiful that I cannot write them. And for us this is the end of all the stories, and we can most truly say that they all lived happily ever after. But for them it was only the beginning of the real story. All their life in this world and all their adventures had only been the cover and the title page: now at last they were beginning Chapter One of the Great Story, which no one on earth has read: which goes on forever: in which every chapter is better than the one before.

The process of death can be morbidly ugly on the outside. But on the inside, for those who enter through the narrow gate through faith in Jesus Christ, it is part of the journey to get past the introduction and into Chapter One of the Great Story.  There’s a purpose to this introduction to the Great Story. God promises He will accomplish it.  I pray that my transition from the introduction to Chapter One will be a beautiful transition that prepares me for what is to come.

My Work Identity - Projects Vs. People

I thought I was dying.  It happened suddenly - any food I put into my body didn’t stay there, didn’t digest.  My life was consumed with nausea and pain. 

My hypochondriac imagination worked overtime. Maybe I had cancer.  Maybe I had liver failure.  The possibilities seemed endless, and my doctor had decided to go on vacation.  

Yet, between medical tests and losing 15 pounds effortlessly in two months, I dragged myself to work every day, weak and emaciated, even if only for a few hours. While plodding through reports, I wondered -- What would happen to my projects if I couldn’t work anymore?  What would I be known for in my work? If I died, what would I be remembered for? 

This task-oriented person needed a reminder -- my work identity is not in my projects nor my task list.  My identity in Christ is ultimately manifested in my relationships.  So what would people say?

“She was so professional.”  I heard these words spoken admirably of a former boss.  Is being business-like, emotionless and impersonable admirable traits for a Christ follower?  Jesus was considered an authority and generally respected for it by many.  But no one would say he was all business or uncaring.  He worked with people, not projects.

“She was a nice person.”  Not likely everyone could say that about me, and with my reserved personality that avoids being the center of attention, I’m not easy to get to know.  While I want to be thought of as kind or friendly, I’m not sure that I am concerned with a reputation of being “nice.”  Jesus was warm and caring, but He wasn’t always nice.  He called people out when they were wrong.  He made people think.

“She was a good person.” This is better than the outward persona of being nice because goodness goes beneath the surface and is rooted in the heart.  Jesus WAS a good person, to the core.  If goodness reflects the love of Jesus in me, then I want to be a good person too.

But ultimately, I want to be known as someone who puts others above myself, someone who goes out of the way to be sure justice is served even if it was inconvenient, and someone who stands for her convictions.  Like Jesus.

So, I may not always be ‘nice’.  But I CAN reflect Jesus by being humble, respectful, kind, and patient.  I can choose to pursue what is right rather than pursuing favor.  To do these things, I need to be someone who listens and seeks to understand before seeking to be understood. 

I want to see the big picture – everyone as a person with an eternal soul, a spirit, to see them beyond the task at hand.  Work is the platform where I practice my faith, where I perform in an arena with my head and hands what I know about God and His purposes.  And not just with my head and hands, but also with my heart.

After three months, God brought healing to my body after a diagnosis of gastroparesis (partial stomach paralysis).  The healing is not complete, but I can function, and the pain that remains is a reminder – a reminder that I work with people, not projects.

Pick Your Crisis: Tornado or Illness?

If Satan wanted to destroy your faith, what would he do first?

He knew that Job was faithful and devoted to God, and thought it was because God had blessed him, so first he took away his belongings with an attack.  Then a tornado decimated property and killed all his children.  Job’s faith in God did not waiver.

Then, Satan was convinced that illness would cause Job to crumble.  And it worked.  Job never lost his faith in God, but his strength and resiliency faded to complete brokenness and utter grief. Job wasn’t trying to rebuild.  He sat in numbness and shock for a weak, doing nothing but grieving by tearing his clothes, rubbing ashes on his head, and ripping his injured skin with shards to relieve his physical misery.

What if Satan had started with illness before the other devastating actions?  Was it the illness that crumbled him or just the compounding effect of multiple traumatic events?  What would Satan choose to do to crush me with misery and despair? My imagination can concoct all kinds of possibilities.  Job must’ve done that too, because he says that everything he had feared and dreaded in the good times had finally happened to him (Job 3:25).

Whatever the answer, God is still in control.  He keeps Satan on a leash.  We have a choice to make – whether we will allow ourselves to be crushed by the uncontrollable dozer of destruction, or if we will climb onto it triumphantly knowing that God will use it for good and not waste it. 

We don’t get to choose.  And it is a waste of energy to contemplate it or imagine all the unthinkable that could happen.  Just know and prepare to not give in to despair.  Prepare to choose to trust.  God will carry us and teach us through the dark hours as we journey out of this world that is not our true home.

Seven Lessons Learned from a Heart Attack

My husband had a heart attack  6 weeks ago.  It was unexpected, shocking.  But God walked with me through the darkness and had a few things He wanted to show me.

1)      I am not alone.  The first moments in the hospital waiting room on a Saturday afternoon, it was entirely silent, only my body in the quiet space.  But I did not feel alone. I relished the quiet as the presence of Jesus engulfed me, filling me with peace and strength.  The moments of clinging to Jesus in quietness were precious.

2)      God manifests His presence in the form of loving family and friends, but does not mean for them to replace Him. Loving friends barged into the waiting room with hugs and encouragement, infusing me with strength.  I welcomed the interruption.  They helped divert my thoughts off myself and the crisis.  God did not intend that they squeeze Him out, but to be a physical reality of His nearness.  Later when they all left, He didn’t leave.  In the days after, I had to remember to turn to God and not let people take His place.

3)      I’m stronger than I thought I was, by His strength.   I always thought that if anything happened to my husband or children, it would be hard to even take the next breath of this life and function.  Sometimes people really do endure more than they can bear – they crack up, fall apart.  But God promises His grace is sufficient, and that His power will be made greater in our weakness.  I learned that maybe I really can survive without falling to pieces, that my life could go on, and that He would give me the strength I need if I will open my hands to Him and receive it.

4)      Joy is found in cherishing the moments and not taking the little things for granted. The hospital’s ICU kicked me out when visiting hours were over. When I returned to my empty, quiet house, all I could do was clean and try not to think about the “what if’s”.  As I swept my floor, I thought about my husband’s strong hands that laid the ceramic tile.  As I dusted, my heart melted at the thought of the book shelves he built with love for me.  As I slept alone in my bed, I longed to hear his heavy breathing next to me (even if it was his snoring). He wasn’t there, but the evidence surrounding me that he had been touched me. I never even really noticed before.

5)      It’s easy to let fear take the driver’s seat.  When I woke up early the following morning post crisis, I was attacked by the “what if’s”, starting with the biggest one of all – what if he had died?  Unless I hit the brakes on the circle of thoughts as they explored various avenues of my future, fear will take control and lead my emotions down a road to anxiety and panic.  I can’t just stop the fear or quit the “what if’s”. As soon as I catch myself, I have to replace those thoughts with something else, like remembering the things to be thankful for instead.  It’s not about being in denial of reality; it’s simply not worrying about what will be or what won’t be, preparing for the future but living in the present.

6)      I’m not in control, even if I try to be.  There’s a difference between being out-of-control and releasing control.  I couldn’t keep it from happening. I couldn’t control the speed of the doctors.  I couldn’t just close my eyes and make it all go away.  However, it wasn’t all utter chaos.  Someone else was in control, and I had to release myself to His control.  He already knew in advance this would happen.  It didn’t take Him by surprise. 

 

7)      God is good, regardless of the outcome.  I didn’t know if my husband would survive. Still, in those uncertain moments, God was assuring me He was good and He was in control, and it was okay if I didn’t understand.  He just wanted me to trust Him and remember His goodness and love for me.

 

He still has chest pain.  It scares me sometimes.  And the tornado that wiped out our old house and decimated the former neighborhood where we once lived in Moore, Oklahoma, I am reminded that a crisis could occur at any moment.  Any kind of crisis.  I could keep busy with worry.  I don’t want to live worrying about the next crisis, but when it happens, I know now that I have these seven lessons learned that I can hold onto firmly, and that the list of lessons will continue to grow.  And so will I.

50 Days of Hope - Book Review

Cancer – the word that can knock the breath out of you and leave you wondering which way is up.  Surviving it is not forcing optimism or positive thinking that isn’t realistic; we were created with emotions and life is best lived when we acknowledge and express them.  After acknowledging and expressing emotion, not getting stuck there but moving on to hope is essential, a hope that is not based on the odds.  While the quantity of life cannot be guaranteed, having a positive attitude will definitely give you a better quality of life.  A positive attitude helps you heal physically, emotionally, and spiritually, but may or may not cure you.  Optimism says “I’m going to be cured.” Pessimism says “I’m going to die”.  Positive realism says “I have a life-threatening illness and may or may not get better, so I will plan for both.”

Lynn Eib is both a cancer survivor and patient advocate, so she has tons of stories to share in her book 50 Days of Hope: Daily Inspiration for Your Journey through Cancer.  Her stories of hope will make you laugh and feel encouraged while keeping you turned toward God and pouring your heart out to Him who hears, understands, and has the power to respond. She relates how to combat worry and how to refuse to let cancer control your life.  Plus, she provides insights into the ways you can enlarge your picture of what it means to beat cancer.

If you want a book that will help you stay realistically positive and hopeful, not living in cancer’s shadow but the Heavenly Father’s shadow which is secure and protective, then you will want to spend 50 days this little devotional book.  Lynn Eib will help point you and/or the one living with cancer in the direction of positive realism and surround you with hope. 

This little purse-sized book would be a perfect gift for someone battling cancer or their loved ones. It truly is a gift of real hope that can be reached for and easily read in a waiting room or a hospital or by your nightstand.

Disclaimer: I was provided a complimentary copy of this book by Tyndale House in exchange for my honest review.

Jesus in Scrubs

She’ll never know, but her smile, gentleness, and calm voice were like the very presence of Jesus during the mammogram which followed the unsettling days after discovering a lump on my breast. Again. Last time, a little over a year ago, one pea-sized lump was surgically removed and biopsied, found to be benign, much to my relief. The 30-day process from discovery to removal was filled with nerve-wracking waiting.

I wanted this time to be different. Without words, the technician reminded me that it could be and would be, if I would just keep my eyes focused on Jesus. She didn’t have to say it. Her compassion, the way she tried hard to keep me comfortable and informed with everything she was doing and why, with a smile – it all kept my mind focused on the current moment instead of future possibilities. She was a tool in God’s hands, exhibiting the peace of Jesus.

But God wanted to give me more than peace. The mammogram results showed the need to move on for an ultrasound. While lying on the ultrasound table, alone, waiting for another technician to return with the radiologist’s findings, God showed me that He wanted something from me. He wanted me to surrender to Him. To surrender everything. Even my breasts. He wanted me to be able to trust Him even if I were to lose them and face the emotional challenge to my femininity. So I did. I knew that regardless of the outcome, He would somehow use it and grow me. Every pain or hurt placed in His hands would be used for great purpose so long as I give it to Him.

If not for the technician, who was like Jesus in scrubs, would I have been as open to hearing His message to me that day? Would I have known that He wanted me to surrender or would I have been too busy mulling over all the possibilities of the future?

The outcome was favorable and I can close this chapter of difficulty for the time being, but others swirl around me. As I continue to live surrendered, maybe I can be like the technician, who was like the presence of Jesus to me.  Maybe a smile, compassion, or truth spoken with just the right words at just the right time – maybe I also have been and can be like Jesus to those around me – Jesus in dress slacks, Jesus in blue jeans, Jesus in pajamas. 

Thank you to my blogging friends who encouraged me and prayed for me - like Jesus in cyberspace.

Victim or Warrior – Choosing Unshakable Faith

My eyes flew open in surprise at 1:25am last night during the middle of a peaceful sleep.  “I have a lump on my breast!” I exclaimed into the darkness before it even registered if I was still dreaming or not.  My husband must have been awake because he answered, “Why are you touching your breasts in your sleep?”  I laughed. I had no idea, maybe I had an itch, but there was no doubt that the pea-sized lump at the edge of my breast near my armpit was there.  After my husband verified its existence, we laid there in silence for a while. I wondered how we would fall back to sleep.

I thought about my previous post, how much I want to walk so close to God that I can see His hand in every thing, every day, and trust Him so much that nothing shakes me.  Was this a test? I knew this had the potential to rattle me and fill me with anxiety.  This was not an unfamiliar road.

God knew it was there. He knows when it formed. He knows whether or not it is benign. He knew that I would discover it when I did. He knows the path in front of me and will guide me through each step for my good (yes, MY good) and His glory.  His consolation delighted my soul, and he calmed the anxious thoughts that could have multiplied.  The heavy breathing of my husband also soothed me. He is my rock, too, and if he could find rest, then I could too. Peaceful sleep returned to me.

As with any illness, we have a choice how to react. When the circumstance is beyond our control, will we give into pity and ask the why questions that only stirs up anxious thinking? Will we feel play the victim? Or will we fight with anger that leads to bitterness and blame? Or will we trust God and stand strong?

I don’t want to be a victim, nor do I want to be an angry warrior lashing out.  But I do want to be a warrior – a strong one who knows who the commander is!

I can’t change the circumstances, but I can choose my thoughts and my actions.  My next action will be to make a doctor appointment Monday morning. My next thoughts are to walk as closely to my heavenly Father as I can so He can keep me from victim-thinking and grow me into something stronger and more beautiful.

Joyful Pain or Painful Joy

Having suffered the birth pangs of labor (bearing two precious children) as well as the severe pain of appendicitis and kidney stones (bearing nothing precious at all), pain is not a stranger to me.   In fact, dull and annoying pain is my unwelcome companion more days than not, and I attempt to cope by complaining.  Every couple months or so, my companion of pain will suddenly attack for a 3-5 hour episode that leaves me rolling on the floor and begging for mercy. 

Only in the times of the worst pain do I find myself desperately crying out to God.  Recently, I found that one way of coping is to take my eyes off my pain and focus on bringing the hurt of others before His throne.  Friends who are experiencing grief because of loss or facing difficult times come to mind.  The momentary mental diversion serves as a reminder to me that the world is bigger than me at that moment, and while my pain is temporary, others suffer more for much longer.  And it does not EVEN begin to compare to the physical suffering Jesus endured on the cross, not to mention the spiritual and emotional suffering He had to endure simultaneously.

According to Romans 8:23-24, “all of creation groans as in the pains of childbirth” and “we ourselves, who have the first fruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly as we wait eagerly for our adoption as sons, the redemption of our bodies.”  I am never alone in my pain, and while I await the redemption of my body, I can redeem the time of pain as a time of prayer. 

R.C. Sproul claims that “the cumulative pain of every disease was laid on Him. He bore in His body that the ravages of every evil, every sickness, and every pain known to the human race” (Surprised by Suffering, p. 14).  I wonder if pain would be more bearable if we really believed it was not senseless, but had a meaningful purpose.  Perhaps it is a way I can participate in His suffering.  There IS a beauty in finding fellowship with Him in pain.  Recent memories of severe episodes of pain are framed with the sweetness of God’s presence and comfort.

 

Photo from  http://freeartisticphotos.com