There's a saying in church circles. There is no tired like "VBS tired."
You can find lots of cute memes on it. "VBS tired" is that utter, complete exhaustion that generally comes by the end of an entire week of 3+ hours daily of Bible teaching, songs, arts & crafts, and games.
Well, I have been "VBS tired" for the past three weeks.
The problem, however, is that I have not been working at VBS. In fact, our church VBS was held one of the two weeks that we were out of town.
If possible, I have reached a new level of tired. What kind of tired is beyond VBS tired?
The "I've been working all day, every day to fix someone else's mistakes at work, and now I am completely overwhelmed with all the things on my to-do list" tired. You see, one of my coworkers, who handles everything relating to student records and enrollments, left our office for another position back in mid-May. We were assured over and over again that everything was good.
Things have been FAR from good. In fact, I can't think of any positive adjectives or adverbs to use.
Disastrous.
Horrible.
Confusing.
Messy.
Non-compliant.
Error-filled.
We didn't really know what we were inheriting. After school let out, we started recognizing one the serious problems in one area. I ended up getting help from four other coworkers who came in just to help so I didn't drown in problems. I was asked to cut my vacation short by 2 weeks - both a blessing and a curse, since it meant two less weeks without pay, but it also meant two less weeks without rest.
When I came back to work, I was focused on the area that we knew was a problem. But then, near the end of my two weeks of 10-hour days alone in the office, I encountered even more serious problems. After speaking with my boss and multiple offices at the District, we began to understand the sheer magnitude of the problems. And since my new coworker literally has only been in the position since July 7th, fixing all of these problems has fallen on one person.
Yep.
Me.
So while I'm supposed to be handling the 1,000 different things that come with my position, or that my boss just expects me to handle because no one else really knows how to do them, I have also been spending 8 hours a day trying to fix this other person's mistakes. And, boy, have there been a lot of them.
And by a lot, I mean, over half of the school of 900 students were not properly scheduled. All electives for 4 grades were just not dealt with. Entire classes were not being counted for our staffing numbers. Student files are not in the proper order, haven't been scanned into the system, and often changes (to phone numbers, emergency contacts, and even addresses!) were never entered.
Today was an extremely hard day. We are back to 8 hour days, but that means that we have exactly 0 minutes where the office isn't open to the public. It was so stressful, as we had maybe 20 minutes in 8.5 hours that we didn't have parents on the phone and in the lobby trying to register or ask questions.
Before I left, I checked in with my boss to ask if there was anything she needed me to make a priority for tomorrow. I really wish I hadn't asked. Because she basically added about 5 things to my list -all that she wants done before Wednesday - that I have no idea how I'm going to have time to finish while also doing all of the other things that need to be done. And some of the things that I normally would have had done by now, but which I have not been able to do at all this month? My boss is unhappy that they aren't done and wants those done ASAP as well.
I came home utterly defeated. I have my entire job to do. I have my ex-coworker's job to do (which should have all been done 2-3 months ago). I have 33 new staff members who have needed supplies, needed my help with setting up their printer access, submitting IT and maintenance work orders, or just answering questions that normally I wouldn't have to answer. I have 900 students' schedules to verify and ensure are correct in the system. I have supplies to package and deliver to every returning teacher's classroom. I have 800 pounds of copy paper that needs to be delivered. I have around 500 parent pick-up cards that I need to personally type out and print because the system is stupid and won't let me download the names to mail merge. We have 900 welcome packets to put together before Friday night. And there are so many other things that I am responsible for this week alone...
I have never been so burnt out before the school year even began.
I am so hopeful about our staff, and my new coworker is amazing - we love her already. But I am also ready to drop. And I don't see any chance it's going to calm down for at least another three weeks.
So if I have a total breakdown in the next month, you'll probably be able to find me at the zoo, talking to the big cats and wishing we could just cuddle. Because if I can't adult, I'd much rather cat.
Monday, July 29, 2019
Sunday, June 10, 2018
Thankful for migraines?
This month, I have been trying to focus intentionally on thankfulness. Over and over again in Scripture, God commands us to rejoice and give thanks. I have been woefully deficient in this for many years.
1 Thessalonians 5:16-18 - Rejoice always, pray without ceasing, in everything give thanks; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you.
Philippians 4:6 - Be anxious for nothing, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving present your requests to God.
Colossians 4:2 - Continue earnestly in prayer, being vigilant in it with thanksgiving.
Ephesians 5:18-20 - And do not be drunk with wine, for that is dissipation, but be filled with the Spirit, speaking to one another in psalms and hymns and spiritual songs, singing and making melody with your heart to the Lord; always giving thanks for all things in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ to God, even the Father; and be subject to one another in the fear of Christ.
I've heard many pastors talk about giving thanks in all things. No matter what our circumstances, we can always be thankful to God - for His love, our salvation, justification, His presence, His provision, and so many other things. And while it is hard to give thanks to God when life is hard and painful, I have tended to think of thanking and praising God through pain as "a sacrifice of praise."
But this morning, I woke up with a bad migraine. Bad enough that I was crying while driving to get my groceries. I admitted to God that I am having a hard time being thankful, because I really miss my husband and was in such excruciating pain. As I was talking, I admitted that I really don't know how to be obedient to Ephesians 5 - how to give thanks for all things.
How do I give thanks for a disease that leaves me in terrible pain, plays with my emotions and contributes to depression, and causes me to miss out on social events and has caused me to lose countless friends? How do I give thanks for something that negatively impacts every aspect of my life?
Oh, I can be immensely grateful that I just went 17 days between migraines - possibly the longest I've ever gone between attacks since my diagnosis in 2005. I can be grateful for my medicine and for ice packs and for a loving husband who takes care of me even though care-taking during illness doesn't come very naturally to him.
But how can God expect me to be thankful for the migraine disease itself?
Well, God gave me an answer today at church. I wasn't sure how I was going to make it, but Grandma really wanted to go to church, so I took meds and prayed for strength. Boy, am I glad I did.
Our pastor was preaching from Mark 2, and near the end of the sermon he started talking about how two of the hardest things for us are submission to the Word and suffering. But it was what he said next that struck me right in the heart:
"We can thank God for our suffering, because anything that brings us to the throne of God, to get us to admit that we can do nothing on our own, to get us to rely on the strength of Christ, is worth rejoicing over."
There it is.
My answer.
Straight from God, to my heart.
I can be thankful for my migraines, because they cause me to admit my own weakness. They cause me to rely on God. I can only rely on His strength when I admit my own weaknesses.
So thank you, Jesus, for giving me migraines. Thank you for giving me something that leads me to your throne. Something that leads me to sit in your lap and hold on while you carry me.
2 Corinthians 12:9 - And He has said to me, "My grace is sufficient for you, for power is perfected in weakness." Most gladly, therefore, I will rather boast about my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may dwell in me.
1 Thessalonians 5:16-18 - Rejoice always, pray without ceasing, in everything give thanks; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you.
Philippians 4:6 - Be anxious for nothing, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving present your requests to God.
Colossians 4:2 - Continue earnestly in prayer, being vigilant in it with thanksgiving.
Ephesians 5:18-20 - And do not be drunk with wine, for that is dissipation, but be filled with the Spirit, speaking to one another in psalms and hymns and spiritual songs, singing and making melody with your heart to the Lord; always giving thanks for all things in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ to God, even the Father; and be subject to one another in the fear of Christ.
I've heard many pastors talk about giving thanks in all things. No matter what our circumstances, we can always be thankful to God - for His love, our salvation, justification, His presence, His provision, and so many other things. And while it is hard to give thanks to God when life is hard and painful, I have tended to think of thanking and praising God through pain as "a sacrifice of praise."
But this morning, I woke up with a bad migraine. Bad enough that I was crying while driving to get my groceries. I admitted to God that I am having a hard time being thankful, because I really miss my husband and was in such excruciating pain. As I was talking, I admitted that I really don't know how to be obedient to Ephesians 5 - how to give thanks for all things.
How do I give thanks for a disease that leaves me in terrible pain, plays with my emotions and contributes to depression, and causes me to miss out on social events and has caused me to lose countless friends? How do I give thanks for something that negatively impacts every aspect of my life?
Oh, I can be immensely grateful that I just went 17 days between migraines - possibly the longest I've ever gone between attacks since my diagnosis in 2005. I can be grateful for my medicine and for ice packs and for a loving husband who takes care of me even though care-taking during illness doesn't come very naturally to him.
But how can God expect me to be thankful for the migraine disease itself?
Well, God gave me an answer today at church. I wasn't sure how I was going to make it, but Grandma really wanted to go to church, so I took meds and prayed for strength. Boy, am I glad I did.
Our pastor was preaching from Mark 2, and near the end of the sermon he started talking about how two of the hardest things for us are submission to the Word and suffering. But it was what he said next that struck me right in the heart:
"We can thank God for our suffering, because anything that brings us to the throne of God, to get us to admit that we can do nothing on our own, to get us to rely on the strength of Christ, is worth rejoicing over."
There it is.
My answer.
Straight from God, to my heart.
I can be thankful for my migraines, because they cause me to admit my own weakness. They cause me to rely on God. I can only rely on His strength when I admit my own weaknesses.
So thank you, Jesus, for giving me migraines. Thank you for giving me something that leads me to your throne. Something that leads me to sit in your lap and hold on while you carry me.
2 Corinthians 12:9 - And He has said to me, "My grace is sufficient for you, for power is perfected in weakness." Most gladly, therefore, I will rather boast about my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may dwell in me.
Friday, June 8, 2018
Hi, gorgeous!
I went to our local zoo today. Alone, since my husband is out of town this weekend. It was over 90 degrees at 9 a.m., and I got ridiculously overheated, had a major headache by the time I left an hour and a half (and 3.25 miles) later. But it was worth it, for a few reasons.
First, I got to see the new baby bobcat.
He's just over 6 weeks old. And absolutely adorable. Because I arrived just when the zoo opened, I got to enjoy a few minutes alone with him in the baby nursery. I just wanted to cuddle!
I made today primarily about the big cats. I was able to make eye contact with almost every one of them.
Samson, the head lion, chilling out on his pedestal.
The white Lioness, who had just been enjoying some, er, private time with the other African lion.
The Bengal tiger (who had the best idea and was hanging out in his personal pool) and Cheetah
And one of the mountain lions, who had great fun playing with me. He "hunted" me by sneaking up and jumping up at me against the fence when I walked up. Boy, did I jump!! Then we ran back and forth (each on our own side of the enclosure, of course) and made lots of eye contact with each other. He might have been lonely, because his mate and their babies weren't in the enclosure with him today.
My husband always teases me, because whenever we see the big cats, I have a tendency to coo over them, speak to them, and, in general, wish I could lay down and snuggle with them.
Today, I kept greeting them with, "Hi, gorgeous!" They are truly majestic creatures. And, with so few people around, I almost always was able to talk to them alone.
At one point, after talking to the mountain lion, telling him how wonderfully gorgeous he was, I felt God prompting me.
You know how excited you get to see each of these amazing big cats? How big you smile upon seeing them? How you long to put your arms around them? That's how I feel, too.
My first thought was how amazing it was that God and I both get so excited about these cats, how wonderfully made they are, how powerful and glorious. I was feeling so thankful that my Father and I shared this love together. It was like the feeling I got when I was a kid and starting loving history as much as my Dad. It's wonderful to know that you take after your daddy in some way.
But then, God nudged me (as if with his elbow), saying,
Yes, I love these animals. But I feel the same way about you. I get excited every time I see you. I speak to you, no matter who is around, and put my arms around you and snuggle. Whenever you get excited and express your love for these cats, remember that I am excited for you and love you, too!
Thank you, Jesus, for the reminder. I am fearfully and wonderfully made. I am the daughter of the King of Kings, the Lord of Lords, Almighty God.
I'm never going to apologize for how happy these cats make me. Because now, every time I look at them, I'll think of God looking at me. And when He does, He smiles at me and says, "Hi, gorgeous!"
~R
Psalm 24
The earth is the LORD's, and all its fullness,
The world and those who dwell therein.
For He has founded it upon the seas,
And established it upon the waters.
Who may ascend into the hill of the LORD?
Or who may stand in His holy place?
He who has clean hands and a pure heart,
Who has not lifted up his soul to an idol,
Nor sworn deceitfully.
He shall receive blessing from the LORD,
And righteousness from the God of his salvation.
This is Jacob, the generation of those who seek Him,
Who seek Your face. Selah
Lift up your heads, O you gates!
And be lifted up, you everlasting doors!
And the King of glory shall come in.
Who is this King of glory?
The LORD strong and mighty,
The LORD mighty in battle.
Lift up your heads, O you gates!
Lift up, you everlasting doors!
And the King of glory shall come in.
Who is this King of glory?
The LORD of hosts,
He is the King of glory. Selah
First, I got to see the new baby bobcat.
He's just over 6 weeks old. And absolutely adorable. Because I arrived just when the zoo opened, I got to enjoy a few minutes alone with him in the baby nursery. I just wanted to cuddle!
I made today primarily about the big cats. I was able to make eye contact with almost every one of them.
Samson, the head lion, chilling out on his pedestal.
The white Lioness, who had just been enjoying some, er, private time with the other African lion.
The Bengal tiger (who had the best idea and was hanging out in his personal pool) and Cheetah
And one of the mountain lions, who had great fun playing with me. He "hunted" me by sneaking up and jumping up at me against the fence when I walked up. Boy, did I jump!! Then we ran back and forth (each on our own side of the enclosure, of course) and made lots of eye contact with each other. He might have been lonely, because his mate and their babies weren't in the enclosure with him today.
My husband always teases me, because whenever we see the big cats, I have a tendency to coo over them, speak to them, and, in general, wish I could lay down and snuggle with them.
Today, I kept greeting them with, "Hi, gorgeous!" They are truly majestic creatures. And, with so few people around, I almost always was able to talk to them alone.
At one point, after talking to the mountain lion, telling him how wonderfully gorgeous he was, I felt God prompting me.
You know how excited you get to see each of these amazing big cats? How big you smile upon seeing them? How you long to put your arms around them? That's how I feel, too.
My first thought was how amazing it was that God and I both get so excited about these cats, how wonderfully made they are, how powerful and glorious. I was feeling so thankful that my Father and I shared this love together. It was like the feeling I got when I was a kid and starting loving history as much as my Dad. It's wonderful to know that you take after your daddy in some way.
But then, God nudged me (as if with his elbow), saying,
Yes, I love these animals. But I feel the same way about you. I get excited every time I see you. I speak to you, no matter who is around, and put my arms around you and snuggle. Whenever you get excited and express your love for these cats, remember that I am excited for you and love you, too!
Thank you, Jesus, for the reminder. I am fearfully and wonderfully made. I am the daughter of the King of Kings, the Lord of Lords, Almighty God.
I'm never going to apologize for how happy these cats make me. Because now, every time I look at them, I'll think of God looking at me. And when He does, He smiles at me and says, "Hi, gorgeous!"
~R
Psalm 24
The earth is the LORD's, and all its fullness,
The world and those who dwell therein.
For He has founded it upon the seas,
And established it upon the waters.
Who may ascend into the hill of the LORD?
Or who may stand in His holy place?
He who has clean hands and a pure heart,
Who has not lifted up his soul to an idol,
Nor sworn deceitfully.
He shall receive blessing from the LORD,
And righteousness from the God of his salvation.
This is Jacob, the generation of those who seek Him,
Who seek Your face. Selah
Lift up your heads, O you gates!
And be lifted up, you everlasting doors!
And the King of glory shall come in.
Who is this King of glory?
The LORD strong and mighty,
The LORD mighty in battle.
Lift up your heads, O you gates!
Lift up, you everlasting doors!
And the King of glory shall come in.
Who is this King of glory?
The LORD of hosts,
He is the King of glory. Selah
Sunday, May 13, 2018
Hard day
Mom,
Today is Mother's Day. It is my fifth Mother's Day since I had to say goodbye to you. I keep waiting for it to get easier, but it doesn't ever seem to. I miss you so very much it still hurts. It hurts to breathe, to remember, to cry.
I wish I could talk to you again. I wish I had you here to tell me how to navigate being a wife. I wish you could tell me how to have joy when it feels like everyone around me is getting to become a mother, while I'm stuck in this place. This place of chronic illness and depression and exhaustion. I wish you could tell me that someday this enormous pain that comes from being childless and living with sexual dysfunction would go away.
I wish I could talk to you, because I don't have anyone else. There isn't anyone to listen except my husband. But he's a man, and it's painful for him because he blames himself. And so he can't comfort me because he can't comfort himself.
I wish you were here, because you are my mom and you always knew how to make me feel better. I love you so much. I know you are perfect in heaven, but I wish you were here with me instead.
Today is Mother's Day. It is my fifth Mother's Day since I had to say goodbye to you. I keep waiting for it to get easier, but it doesn't ever seem to. I miss you so very much it still hurts. It hurts to breathe, to remember, to cry.
I wish I could talk to you again. I wish I had you here to tell me how to navigate being a wife. I wish you could tell me how to have joy when it feels like everyone around me is getting to become a mother, while I'm stuck in this place. This place of chronic illness and depression and exhaustion. I wish you could tell me that someday this enormous pain that comes from being childless and living with sexual dysfunction would go away.
I wish I could talk to you, because I don't have anyone else. There isn't anyone to listen except my husband. But he's a man, and it's painful for him because he blames himself. And so he can't comfort me because he can't comfort himself.
I wish you were here, because you are my mom and you always knew how to make me feel better. I love you so much. I know you are perfect in heaven, but I wish you were here with me instead.
Saturday, July 18, 2015
Random ponderings on John 2
I read through the second chapter of the Gospel of John tonight. I've never really spent much time in deep thought about what happened when Jesus and the disciples went to a wedding in Cana along with Jesus' mother. Until tonight.
The story, if you aren't familiar, goes like this: Jesus, His mother, and His disciples were invited to a wedding feast in Cana, in Galilee. While they were there, the guests drank all of the host's wine. Jesus' mom, Mary, came to tell him the wine had run out. Jesus responded, "What's that to me and you? My hour has not yet come." But Mary goes to the servants and tells them to do whatever Jesus says. So Jesus tells them to fill these huge jugs with water and serve it to the headwaiter. The water became wine - the best wine of the day, in fact. This was the start of the miracles Jesus performed and showed His glory for the first time, and the disciples believed in Him.
I've heard this passage preached many times, but tonight I had some new questions.
1. Did Mary actually expect Jesus to do something "supernatural" about the wine problem? John states that this was the first miracle, "sign," that Jesus performed. So did Mary tell Jesus about the problem and expect a miracle?
Or is it possible that Mary expected something far more practical, like sending Philip and Andrew to the market in Cana to buy more wine? The text doesn't really say. There's part of me that chuckles at the possibility that Mary was telling Jesus because she thought He'd do something "normal," and then He responds by miraculously changing water to wine. Granted, I think it is likely that Mary, who knew that Jesus was God in the flesh, was asking for a supernatural act. But it still makes me giggle.
2. Why did Jesus perform the miracle at all? I mean, when Mary first came to Him, He responded that it really wasn't His problem, and that His hour hadn't come. If Jesus really didn't want to start performing miracles on that day, He certainly could have done nothing. He hadn't performed any signs before that day, so I'm sure another day wouldn't have been a big deal. So why do it at all?
My husband joked that it was the power of a nagging Jewish mother to get her son to act. :-) Again, chuckles. It makes for a funny scene in my head, that's for sure!
While I don't have a secure answer to my question, I suspect that there's a clue to the answer in John 2:11- "This beginning of His signs Jesus did in Cana of Galilee, and manifested His glory, and His disciples believed in Him."
According to the first chapter of John, Andrew was following Jesus because he had been a disciple of John the Baptist and was there when John declared that Jesus was the Lamb of God. Peter came to follow Jesus because Andrew told him that they had found the Messiah. Philip received a personal invitation from Christ to follow Him. And Nathanael was in the group because Philip told Him they had found the one of whom the prophets and the Law spoke - the Messiah - and Jesus told Nathanael things he couldn't have known if he were simply a man.
But none of these disciples had "seen His glory" in person. They were all following Jesus on the hope that He was, really, the promised Messiah. They thought He was, but this was the first time that Jesus was revealing His power and glory, and so they believed in Him.
No matter what the true answers to my questions, I am comforted by the fact that Jesus never rebuked his mom for telling the servants to obey Him. Jesus could have simply not acted on the problem, or used a practical solution, or He could have told the servants that it wasn't His problem and to figure it out on their own. I am glad that He was willing to intervene in a seemingly insignificant problem.
It gives me more confidence that I can come to Him with my own petty, insignificant problems. He won't turn me away or tell me to figure it out for myself, or tell me that it's not worth His time. God cares for me, and that means that I can come to Him about everything.
Don't take my word for it - take God's word:
Be anxious for nothing, but in everything by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. ~ Philippians 4:6
Rejoice always; pray without ceasing; in everything give thanks; for this is God's will for you in Christ Jesus. ~ 1 Thessalonians 5:16-18
The story, if you aren't familiar, goes like this: Jesus, His mother, and His disciples were invited to a wedding feast in Cana, in Galilee. While they were there, the guests drank all of the host's wine. Jesus' mom, Mary, came to tell him the wine had run out. Jesus responded, "What's that to me and you? My hour has not yet come." But Mary goes to the servants and tells them to do whatever Jesus says. So Jesus tells them to fill these huge jugs with water and serve it to the headwaiter. The water became wine - the best wine of the day, in fact. This was the start of the miracles Jesus performed and showed His glory for the first time, and the disciples believed in Him.
I've heard this passage preached many times, but tonight I had some new questions.
1. Did Mary actually expect Jesus to do something "supernatural" about the wine problem? John states that this was the first miracle, "sign," that Jesus performed. So did Mary tell Jesus about the problem and expect a miracle?
Or is it possible that Mary expected something far more practical, like sending Philip and Andrew to the market in Cana to buy more wine? The text doesn't really say. There's part of me that chuckles at the possibility that Mary was telling Jesus because she thought He'd do something "normal," and then He responds by miraculously changing water to wine. Granted, I think it is likely that Mary, who knew that Jesus was God in the flesh, was asking for a supernatural act. But it still makes me giggle.
2. Why did Jesus perform the miracle at all? I mean, when Mary first came to Him, He responded that it really wasn't His problem, and that His hour hadn't come. If Jesus really didn't want to start performing miracles on that day, He certainly could have done nothing. He hadn't performed any signs before that day, so I'm sure another day wouldn't have been a big deal. So why do it at all?
My husband joked that it was the power of a nagging Jewish mother to get her son to act. :-) Again, chuckles. It makes for a funny scene in my head, that's for sure!
While I don't have a secure answer to my question, I suspect that there's a clue to the answer in John 2:11- "This beginning of His signs Jesus did in Cana of Galilee, and manifested His glory, and His disciples believed in Him."
According to the first chapter of John, Andrew was following Jesus because he had been a disciple of John the Baptist and was there when John declared that Jesus was the Lamb of God. Peter came to follow Jesus because Andrew told him that they had found the Messiah. Philip received a personal invitation from Christ to follow Him. And Nathanael was in the group because Philip told Him they had found the one of whom the prophets and the Law spoke - the Messiah - and Jesus told Nathanael things he couldn't have known if he were simply a man.
But none of these disciples had "seen His glory" in person. They were all following Jesus on the hope that He was, really, the promised Messiah. They thought He was, but this was the first time that Jesus was revealing His power and glory, and so they believed in Him.
No matter what the true answers to my questions, I am comforted by the fact that Jesus never rebuked his mom for telling the servants to obey Him. Jesus could have simply not acted on the problem, or used a practical solution, or He could have told the servants that it wasn't His problem and to figure it out on their own. I am glad that He was willing to intervene in a seemingly insignificant problem.
It gives me more confidence that I can come to Him with my own petty, insignificant problems. He won't turn me away or tell me to figure it out for myself, or tell me that it's not worth His time. God cares for me, and that means that I can come to Him about everything.
Don't take my word for it - take God's word:
Be anxious for nothing, but in everything by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. ~ Philippians 4:6
Rejoice always; pray without ceasing; in everything give thanks; for this is God's will for you in Christ Jesus. ~ 1 Thessalonians 5:16-18
Thursday, July 16, 2015
Titles
What we call ourselves can be revealing. How many of us call ourselves "losers" or "stupid" or "disgusting"? Who do you know that insists on being called "Doctor" or who gets upset if you call them "Ms." when they are really a "Mrs."? [As an aside, we had two professors at my college who were married to each other - the husband was "Dr. ____" and his wife was "Dr. Mrs. _____."]
We give meaning to titles, because they reveal something about who we are. We call ourselves names that we think reflect the truth of our existence.
I've been thinking about this tonight after spending more time in John 1. In the final verse, Jesus calls himself "the Son of Man." I wondered why He chose this particular title. So I started searching the rest of Scripture.
It turns out that the first time that phrase was used to refer to Christ was in Daniel 7. Daniel saw "one like a son of man coming with the clouds." This "son of man" went before the Ancient of Days, was given authority to rule over all things, that all peoples, nations, and kingdoms would serve Him. And His kingdom would be everlasting and could never be broken. This passage is an important messianic prophecy - concerning the Christ, the promised one who would redeem Israel.
Jesus used the phrase "Son of Man" to refer to Himself more than any other title. In Matthew 9, he told a paralytic man that his sins were forgiven. The Pharisees were, as usual, very persnickety and complained that Jesus had no right to say that. Jesus responded that, "in order to show you that the Son of Man has authority to forgive sins," he told the man to take up his mat and walk. And he did.
I find it fascinating that Jesus' words mirror the prophecy in Daniel. Almost like He meant them to, huh? :-)
In Acts 7, the apostle Stephen proclaimed that he saw "one like the Son of Man" at the right hand of the Father in heaven just before he was killed. And the apostle John, in his vision of heaven, heard someone talking - when he turned, he saw "One like the Son of Man" standing there, and John fell at his feet.
One of our Bible's commentators suggested that Jesus only used the phrase "Son of Man" because it was an innocuous term that wouldn't arouse the ire of the Jews. While I certainly understand the potential validity of this explanation, it strikes me as a bit unsatisfying.
I mean, wouldn't you think that the God of the Universe could avoid arousing anger grammatically by simply using the first person? I, at least, am pretty sure that if I can see that potential, the LORD could, too.
No, I don't think Jesus called Himself the "Son of Man" over 80 times simply as a grammatical turn of phrase. I cannot be totally certain, but I think that the term was chosen very specifically to emphasize the enormity of the truth about Christ:
The Word that existed in the beginning, that was God Himself (John 1:1), who created all things (John 1:3), became flesh (John 1:14) - became, literally, a son of Man - and dwelt among us!!
The God of all creation forced Himself into human form, with all of the pain, suffering, desires, and temptations (Hebrews 4:15 - For we do not have a high priest who cannot sympathize with our weaknesses, but One who has been tempted in all things as we are, yet without sin.).
And why did He do this? Why did He "who, although He existed in the form of God, did not regard equality with God a thing to be grasped, but emptied Himself, taking the form of a bond-servant, and being made in the likeness of men. Being found in appearance as a man, He humbled Himself by becoming obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross"?
Well, friend, He did it for you. Because He loves you.
By this the love of God was manifested in us, that God has sent His only begotten Son into the world so that we might live through Him. In this is love, not that we loved God, but that He loved us and sent His Son to be the propitiation for our sins. ~ 1 John 4:9-10
But God, being rich in mercy, because of His great love with which He loved us, even when we were dead in our transgressions, made us alive together with Christ (by grace you have been saved), and raised us up with Him, and seated us with Him in the heavenly places in Christ Jesus, so that in the ages to come He might show the surpassing riches of His grace in kindness toward us in Christ Jesus. For by grace you have been saved through faith; and that not of yourselves, it is the gift of God; not as a result of works, so that no one may boast. ~ Ephesians 2:4-9
The Lord is not slow about His promise, as some count slowness, but is patient toward you, not wishing for any to perish but for all to come to repentance. ~ 2 Peter 3:9
For God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son, that whoever believes in Him shall not perish, but have eternal life. For God did not send the Son into the world to judge the world, but that the world might be saved through Him. ~John 3:16-17
Pretty cool, I think. :-)
We give meaning to titles, because they reveal something about who we are. We call ourselves names that we think reflect the truth of our existence.
I've been thinking about this tonight after spending more time in John 1. In the final verse, Jesus calls himself "the Son of Man." I wondered why He chose this particular title. So I started searching the rest of Scripture.
It turns out that the first time that phrase was used to refer to Christ was in Daniel 7. Daniel saw "one like a son of man coming with the clouds." This "son of man" went before the Ancient of Days, was given authority to rule over all things, that all peoples, nations, and kingdoms would serve Him. And His kingdom would be everlasting and could never be broken. This passage is an important messianic prophecy - concerning the Christ, the promised one who would redeem Israel.
Jesus used the phrase "Son of Man" to refer to Himself more than any other title. In Matthew 9, he told a paralytic man that his sins were forgiven. The Pharisees were, as usual, very persnickety and complained that Jesus had no right to say that. Jesus responded that, "in order to show you that the Son of Man has authority to forgive sins," he told the man to take up his mat and walk. And he did.
I find it fascinating that Jesus' words mirror the prophecy in Daniel. Almost like He meant them to, huh? :-)
In Acts 7, the apostle Stephen proclaimed that he saw "one like the Son of Man" at the right hand of the Father in heaven just before he was killed. And the apostle John, in his vision of heaven, heard someone talking - when he turned, he saw "One like the Son of Man" standing there, and John fell at his feet.
One of our Bible's commentators suggested that Jesus only used the phrase "Son of Man" because it was an innocuous term that wouldn't arouse the ire of the Jews. While I certainly understand the potential validity of this explanation, it strikes me as a bit unsatisfying.
I mean, wouldn't you think that the God of the Universe could avoid arousing anger grammatically by simply using the first person? I, at least, am pretty sure that if I can see that potential, the LORD could, too.
No, I don't think Jesus called Himself the "Son of Man" over 80 times simply as a grammatical turn of phrase. I cannot be totally certain, but I think that the term was chosen very specifically to emphasize the enormity of the truth about Christ:
The Word that existed in the beginning, that was God Himself (John 1:1), who created all things (John 1:3), became flesh (John 1:14) - became, literally, a son of Man - and dwelt among us!!
The God of all creation forced Himself into human form, with all of the pain, suffering, desires, and temptations (Hebrews 4:15 - For we do not have a high priest who cannot sympathize with our weaknesses, but One who has been tempted in all things as we are, yet without sin.).
And why did He do this? Why did He "who, although He existed in the form of God, did not regard equality with God a thing to be grasped, but emptied Himself, taking the form of a bond-servant, and being made in the likeness of men. Being found in appearance as a man, He humbled Himself by becoming obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross"?
Well, friend, He did it for you. Because He loves you.
By this the love of God was manifested in us, that God has sent His only begotten Son into the world so that we might live through Him. In this is love, not that we loved God, but that He loved us and sent His Son to be the propitiation for our sins. ~ 1 John 4:9-10
But God, being rich in mercy, because of His great love with which He loved us, even when we were dead in our transgressions, made us alive together with Christ (by grace you have been saved), and raised us up with Him, and seated us with Him in the heavenly places in Christ Jesus, so that in the ages to come He might show the surpassing riches of His grace in kindness toward us in Christ Jesus. For by grace you have been saved through faith; and that not of yourselves, it is the gift of God; not as a result of works, so that no one may boast. ~ Ephesians 2:4-9
The Lord is not slow about His promise, as some count slowness, but is patient toward you, not wishing for any to perish but for all to come to repentance. ~ 2 Peter 3:9
For God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son, that whoever believes in Him shall not perish, but have eternal life. For God did not send the Son into the world to judge the world, but that the world might be saved through Him. ~John 3:16-17
Pretty cool, I think. :-)
Wednesday, July 15, 2015
Confession
No, I'm not going to make some weirdly inappropriate confession on social media, so don't get excited.
I'm thinking about a verse I just read in the Gospel of John. I'm doing an inductive study of John for my personal bible study right now, and this particular verse struck me. The context is that the priests and Levites came to ask John the Baptist who he was - in particular, whether he was the promised Messiah. Verse 20 of chapter 1 states:
"And he confessed and did not deny, but confessed, 'I am not the Christ.'" (John 1:20, NASB)
The dual emphasis on the confession stood out to me. John confessed who he was not. He did not deny that the truth was the Messiah was yet to come. He confessed freely that he was not the Christ. I have been thinking about why God emphasized this.
What came to mind were two verses from later in Jesus' ministry, when He was talking about the end times. In two different passages, Jesus told his disciples that people would come saying, "I am he" and "I am the Christ," and Jesus warned the disciples not to follow those people (Luke 21:8, Matthew 24:5). These liars tell people that they are the ones sent by God, but then feed them lies, deceptions, anything but the truth. These people confess - testify - that they are men and women sent by God, but they are not. Their confessions are lies.
But here's the thing - if we are truly in Christ, we can freely confess who we are. And who we are not. There is no condemnation (Romans 8:1), because we "formerly lived in the lusts of our flesh, indulging the desires of the flesh and of the mind, and were by nature children of wrath, even as the rest. But God, being rich in mercy, because of His great love with which He loved us, even when we were dead in our transgressions, made us alive together with Christ (by grace you have been saved), and raised us up with Him, and seated us with Him in the heavenly places in Christ Jesus, so that in the ages to come He might show the surpassing riches of His grace in kindness toward us in Christ Jesus. For by grace you have been saved through faith; and that not of yourselves, it is the gift of God; not as a result of works, so that no one may boast." (Ephesians 2:3-9).
We can confess who we are in Christ. We are sinners (Romans 3:23), broken and in need of repair, slaves to sin. Formerly. In Christ, we are redeemed. We have been bought with the blood of Christ (Ephesians 2:13). We are called the sons and daughters of God (John 1:12). We are not perfect. We are striving to become more like Jesus. We are beloved.
I don't have to put on pretenses and "fake it." I don't have to try to pretend to be something that I am not. God gives us grace so that we can say freely, "Yep, I'm a total screw-up. But God loves me anyway. And I am ever striving to be like Him." I can have confidence in who I am in Christ. I can confess freely how I have screwed up. But I can also confess how God is shaping me and how He is freeing me from those screw-ups.
Friends, you can have confidence, too. Study the Word and see who God says you really are. Confess and do not deny, but confess who you were, who you are and who God is making you to be.
I'm thinking about a verse I just read in the Gospel of John. I'm doing an inductive study of John for my personal bible study right now, and this particular verse struck me. The context is that the priests and Levites came to ask John the Baptist who he was - in particular, whether he was the promised Messiah. Verse 20 of chapter 1 states:
"And he confessed and did not deny, but confessed, 'I am not the Christ.'" (John 1:20, NASB)
The dual emphasis on the confession stood out to me. John confessed who he was not. He did not deny that the truth was the Messiah was yet to come. He confessed freely that he was not the Christ. I have been thinking about why God emphasized this.
What came to mind were two verses from later in Jesus' ministry, when He was talking about the end times. In two different passages, Jesus told his disciples that people would come saying, "I am he" and "I am the Christ," and Jesus warned the disciples not to follow those people (Luke 21:8, Matthew 24:5). These liars tell people that they are the ones sent by God, but then feed them lies, deceptions, anything but the truth. These people confess - testify - that they are men and women sent by God, but they are not. Their confessions are lies.
But here's the thing - if we are truly in Christ, we can freely confess who we are. And who we are not. There is no condemnation (Romans 8:1), because we "formerly lived in the lusts of our flesh, indulging the desires of the flesh and of the mind, and were by nature children of wrath, even as the rest. But God, being rich in mercy, because of His great love with which He loved us, even when we were dead in our transgressions, made us alive together with Christ (by grace you have been saved), and raised us up with Him, and seated us with Him in the heavenly places in Christ Jesus, so that in the ages to come He might show the surpassing riches of His grace in kindness toward us in Christ Jesus. For by grace you have been saved through faith; and that not of yourselves, it is the gift of God; not as a result of works, so that no one may boast." (Ephesians 2:3-9).
We can confess who we are in Christ. We are sinners (Romans 3:23), broken and in need of repair, slaves to sin. Formerly. In Christ, we are redeemed. We have been bought with the blood of Christ (Ephesians 2:13). We are called the sons and daughters of God (John 1:12). We are not perfect. We are striving to become more like Jesus. We are beloved.
I don't have to put on pretenses and "fake it." I don't have to try to pretend to be something that I am not. God gives us grace so that we can say freely, "Yep, I'm a total screw-up. But God loves me anyway. And I am ever striving to be like Him." I can have confidence in who I am in Christ. I can confess freely how I have screwed up. But I can also confess how God is shaping me and how He is freeing me from those screw-ups.
Friends, you can have confidence, too. Study the Word and see who God says you really are. Confess and do not deny, but confess who you were, who you are and who God is making you to be.
Sunday, May 10, 2015
Mom
Happy Mother's Day in Heaven, Mom.
Are you celebrating with your daddy today? Or with your father-in-law? Or maybe you are celebrating with the little girl you lost so many years ago, who never had a name here on earth. Do you get to hold her in your arms and tell her how she was never far from your heart?
This is my second Mother's Day without you. In twelve days, it will be your 64th birthday. It's been 19.5 months since you slipped the bonds of this world.
I miss you more every day. I miss your laugh, especially that hearty laugh that brought tears to your eyes when something really tickled you. I miss your sense of humor, how you teased and giggled and made our pastors laugh. I miss your stories about your second graders, your preschoolers, your first grade Sunday School class, the kids you grew up with. I miss how we used to lay on your bed and talk late into the night. And laugh. I miss the daily (and sometimes more than daily) phone calls. I miss talking to you about Scripture and church. I miss getting your advice on, well, everything. I miss calling you to talk about recipes and getting your advice on how best to cook something. I miss calling you when I am lost as to how to be a better wife, to get your wisdom that came from 40 years of being a phenomenal wife to Dad. I miss your love and support when the fact of infertility and physical dysfunction seems crushing.
There isn't anyone who can fill the massive hole in my life since you've left. I try to hold on to the memories, though some of them have already faded away. Your voice is already hard to hear. Though sometimes I still remember how it felt when you touched my hair. I watch certain movies because I know you loved them. I'm learning a little German because you studied it in college, and it makes me feel just a little bit closer to you. I keep the ceramic Christmas tree that you bequeathed to me so many years ago constantly out on the end table in our living room because you and I both loved it so dearly.
This week has been so hard without you, Mom. The hours spent trying to support Aunt Chris as Ernie was dying. Worrying about Great Aunt Wilma as she was in the hospital. Worrying about your mom as she was in the hospital with pneumonia. Going to Grandma & Grandpa's house that was empty of both of them for the first time in 65 years. Visiting Grandma at her new home, trying not to cry at seeing her so weak and confused.
This week has been so very hard without you. I miss you so much, it hurts to breathe.
On this Mother's Day, I am so grateful for everything you were and everything you did for me. You were kind, generous, loving, passionate, funny, humble, godly, a faithful wife, a joyous mother. You were not perfect - you were deeply human. You lost your temper and made mistakes with the best of them. But you were always there for us. You taught me the value of generosity, the joy of faithful servanthood, and the glory of living a grace-filled life.
All that I am, I owe to you and Dad. I want so much to curl up in your arms today. I hope that you can feel my love in heaven. I love you with all my heart. You were my best friend.
And you are, now and forever, that ultimate title of love - Mom.
Are you celebrating with your daddy today? Or with your father-in-law? Or maybe you are celebrating with the little girl you lost so many years ago, who never had a name here on earth. Do you get to hold her in your arms and tell her how she was never far from your heart?
This is my second Mother's Day without you. In twelve days, it will be your 64th birthday. It's been 19.5 months since you slipped the bonds of this world.
I miss you more every day. I miss your laugh, especially that hearty laugh that brought tears to your eyes when something really tickled you. I miss your sense of humor, how you teased and giggled and made our pastors laugh. I miss your stories about your second graders, your preschoolers, your first grade Sunday School class, the kids you grew up with. I miss how we used to lay on your bed and talk late into the night. And laugh. I miss the daily (and sometimes more than daily) phone calls. I miss talking to you about Scripture and church. I miss getting your advice on, well, everything. I miss calling you to talk about recipes and getting your advice on how best to cook something. I miss calling you when I am lost as to how to be a better wife, to get your wisdom that came from 40 years of being a phenomenal wife to Dad. I miss your love and support when the fact of infertility and physical dysfunction seems crushing.
There isn't anyone who can fill the massive hole in my life since you've left. I try to hold on to the memories, though some of them have already faded away. Your voice is already hard to hear. Though sometimes I still remember how it felt when you touched my hair. I watch certain movies because I know you loved them. I'm learning a little German because you studied it in college, and it makes me feel just a little bit closer to you. I keep the ceramic Christmas tree that you bequeathed to me so many years ago constantly out on the end table in our living room because you and I both loved it so dearly.
This week has been so hard without you, Mom. The hours spent trying to support Aunt Chris as Ernie was dying. Worrying about Great Aunt Wilma as she was in the hospital. Worrying about your mom as she was in the hospital with pneumonia. Going to Grandma & Grandpa's house that was empty of both of them for the first time in 65 years. Visiting Grandma at her new home, trying not to cry at seeing her so weak and confused.
This week has been so very hard without you. I miss you so much, it hurts to breathe.
On this Mother's Day, I am so grateful for everything you were and everything you did for me. You were kind, generous, loving, passionate, funny, humble, godly, a faithful wife, a joyous mother. You were not perfect - you were deeply human. You lost your temper and made mistakes with the best of them. But you were always there for us. You taught me the value of generosity, the joy of faithful servanthood, and the glory of living a grace-filled life.
All that I am, I owe to you and Dad. I want so much to curl up in your arms today. I hope that you can feel my love in heaven. I love you with all my heart. You were my best friend.
And you are, now and forever, that ultimate title of love - Mom.
Sunday, June 15, 2014
Dreams
Do you remember what dreams you had when you were a kid?
I had a plethora of them, constantly changing and always quite big. I wanted to be an astronaut. A marine biologist. A singer. A musician in a professional orchestra. A music therapist. A full-time missionary. A scientist. A teacher (when I was really little). A wife and mother.
Sometimes those childhood dreams simply fade as you grow. Others morph and change as your interests and personality shift year by year. And others are flatly discarded when you realize that you had to be insane to think you'd ever want to spend your life that way. A few remain even into adulthood.
When I was an undergraduate student, my dreams went into a new direction. I knew 100% that God was gently nudging, then pushing, and finally shoving me into the path he wanted me to go. After about age 7, I never really considered being a teacher. I didn't think I had the skills or the confidence; I was terrified to have to stand up to talk in front of 10 people whom I knew and trusted. I certainly didn't want to teach whole classes of people. But God was completely and totally clear.
And so my dreams morphed to align with God's will. I set my goals on graduate school - a Master's degree, a Ph.D. - so that I could teach full time and be obedient to God. And so I did. I went to Ohio and spent two years to get my master's degree in history. Then I moved to Tucson to work on my doctorate. It was ridiculously hard work, but after four years I finally took and passed my oral and written doctoral exams and was officially a doctoral candidate. All that was left was the dissertation.
But then my mom got sick. I tried to keep going with my dissertation research, but those two months that I spent in Spain almost killed me. My priorities were crystal clear. I couldn't stay halfway across the globe while my mom was dying. And so I went home.
That decision probably destroyed any chance I had at finishing my PhD. I took care of mom, returned to school, and watched that particular dream bleed out. I met my husband, got offered a job, got more grant rejection letters than I could count, and so I moved on. I taught for a year, got married, and moved in with my husband. For the past three years, I've taught online courses for a distant university and, for the past year, have worked at my church's elementary school & preschool.
My dreams have sort of ... disappeared.
Between the multiple jobs, the health issues, the worry about my husband's well-being and his misery with his job, and the grief of losing Mom, I don't really know that I have dreams anymore.
I have lots of dreams for my husband. So many dreams, dreams that involve him being happy, joyful, spiritually strong, in the center of God's plan.
But for me? When I try to dream, they fade out before ever becoming tangible. It's a lonely place to be, living day to day without a dream. Right now, I'm just trying to get through one day at a time. But maybe the dreams will return.
Maybe. A girl can dream, can't she?
I had a plethora of them, constantly changing and always quite big. I wanted to be an astronaut. A marine biologist. A singer. A musician in a professional orchestra. A music therapist. A full-time missionary. A scientist. A teacher (when I was really little). A wife and mother.
Sometimes those childhood dreams simply fade as you grow. Others morph and change as your interests and personality shift year by year. And others are flatly discarded when you realize that you had to be insane to think you'd ever want to spend your life that way. A few remain even into adulthood.
When I was an undergraduate student, my dreams went into a new direction. I knew 100% that God was gently nudging, then pushing, and finally shoving me into the path he wanted me to go. After about age 7, I never really considered being a teacher. I didn't think I had the skills or the confidence; I was terrified to have to stand up to talk in front of 10 people whom I knew and trusted. I certainly didn't want to teach whole classes of people. But God was completely and totally clear.
And so my dreams morphed to align with God's will. I set my goals on graduate school - a Master's degree, a Ph.D. - so that I could teach full time and be obedient to God. And so I did. I went to Ohio and spent two years to get my master's degree in history. Then I moved to Tucson to work on my doctorate. It was ridiculously hard work, but after four years I finally took and passed my oral and written doctoral exams and was officially a doctoral candidate. All that was left was the dissertation.
But then my mom got sick. I tried to keep going with my dissertation research, but those two months that I spent in Spain almost killed me. My priorities were crystal clear. I couldn't stay halfway across the globe while my mom was dying. And so I went home.
That decision probably destroyed any chance I had at finishing my PhD. I took care of mom, returned to school, and watched that particular dream bleed out. I met my husband, got offered a job, got more grant rejection letters than I could count, and so I moved on. I taught for a year, got married, and moved in with my husband. For the past three years, I've taught online courses for a distant university and, for the past year, have worked at my church's elementary school & preschool.
My dreams have sort of ... disappeared.
Between the multiple jobs, the health issues, the worry about my husband's well-being and his misery with his job, and the grief of losing Mom, I don't really know that I have dreams anymore.
I have lots of dreams for my husband. So many dreams, dreams that involve him being happy, joyful, spiritually strong, in the center of God's plan.
But for me? When I try to dream, they fade out before ever becoming tangible. It's a lonely place to be, living day to day without a dream. Right now, I'm just trying to get through one day at a time. But maybe the dreams will return.
Maybe. A girl can dream, can't she?
Tuesday, May 13, 2014
The hard month
May is hard. This year, it's the firsts.
The first Mother's Day without my mom.
The first birthday without Mom to celebrate it. She would have been 63.
We also just said "until then" to my Great Aunt Louise, and her funeral is two days after Mom's birthday.
Mother's Day was a complete haze for me, as I contracted some virus at work and was sick all weekend long. I spent most of the day sleeping and trying to get excited about eating a small piece of toast. I couldn't bear to see all of the Mother's Day ads and posts.
I'm finding that it's harder to remember things. I don't remember the last real conversation Mom had with me before she died. Those last few weeks, I'd call and talk, but she really couldn't engage much. Mainly she'd listen and I'd hear her crying (Dad would put it on speakerphone). I'm sure the last thing she said was "I love you," because I never said goodbye without saying it to her. But I'm finding it really difficult to deal with the fact that I wasn't there physically for so long. It was the right decision, but this week, I wish I could have held her hand one more time.
Things just aren't the same. She was my best friend, whom I called almost every day. These days... I don't have that anymore. I get more calls from my bosses than from anyone else. My brother barely says two words to me - or anyone else - and my dad is just trying to make it one day at a time back at work. I feel cut off from everything. There are other family members, sure, but no one whom I can talk to the way I could talk to Mom.
And this month, it's especially hard.
The first Mother's Day without my mom.
The first birthday without Mom to celebrate it. She would have been 63.
We also just said "until then" to my Great Aunt Louise, and her funeral is two days after Mom's birthday.
Mother's Day was a complete haze for me, as I contracted some virus at work and was sick all weekend long. I spent most of the day sleeping and trying to get excited about eating a small piece of toast. I couldn't bear to see all of the Mother's Day ads and posts.
I'm finding that it's harder to remember things. I don't remember the last real conversation Mom had with me before she died. Those last few weeks, I'd call and talk, but she really couldn't engage much. Mainly she'd listen and I'd hear her crying (Dad would put it on speakerphone). I'm sure the last thing she said was "I love you," because I never said goodbye without saying it to her. But I'm finding it really difficult to deal with the fact that I wasn't there physically for so long. It was the right decision, but this week, I wish I could have held her hand one more time.
Things just aren't the same. She was my best friend, whom I called almost every day. These days... I don't have that anymore. I get more calls from my bosses than from anyone else. My brother barely says two words to me - or anyone else - and my dad is just trying to make it one day at a time back at work. I feel cut off from everything. There are other family members, sure, but no one whom I can talk to the way I could talk to Mom.
And this month, it's especially hard.
Monday, January 20, 2014
I cry easily.
That wasn't always true. Except when I was really hormonal. But these days, I tear up very easily. Today, two things set me off. The first was seeing a post about the Living Proof Ministries' Scripture Memory Team Celebration. Last year, Mom and I were trying to memorize 24 scriptures, two per month, together. For the first six months, we both were doing really well. But it got harder in the summer, once she went to hospice care. After she died, I couldn't bring myself to practice my verses at all. We had planned on attending the celebration in Houston together. It was this past weekend. Seeing the pictures made my heart wrench.
The second one makes me feel far more selfish. But it came looking at pictures of yet another friend and their new baby. My friends from college, especially, seem to be baby-making factories. I have long lost track of them all. But these days, it's so painful to look at the pictures of the families, especially of the grandparents, and knowing that it will never be true for me. We have doubts as to whether we'll ever be able to physically have kids anyway. But even if we do, or if we ever have the ability to adopt, any kids we have will never have their maternal grandmother in their lives.
Don't get me wrong - I am very happy for all of my friends that God is blessing their families so much. But it's very hard to combine grief for the loss of Mom with the grief that comes with infertility - well, whatever you want to call it when medical issues make the possibility of pregnancy pretty remote.
So, yeah, I cry easily these days.
That wasn't always true. Except when I was really hormonal. But these days, I tear up very easily. Today, two things set me off. The first was seeing a post about the Living Proof Ministries' Scripture Memory Team Celebration. Last year, Mom and I were trying to memorize 24 scriptures, two per month, together. For the first six months, we both were doing really well. But it got harder in the summer, once she went to hospice care. After she died, I couldn't bring myself to practice my verses at all. We had planned on attending the celebration in Houston together. It was this past weekend. Seeing the pictures made my heart wrench.
The second one makes me feel far more selfish. But it came looking at pictures of yet another friend and their new baby. My friends from college, especially, seem to be baby-making factories. I have long lost track of them all. But these days, it's so painful to look at the pictures of the families, especially of the grandparents, and knowing that it will never be true for me. We have doubts as to whether we'll ever be able to physically have kids anyway. But even if we do, or if we ever have the ability to adopt, any kids we have will never have their maternal grandmother in their lives.
Don't get me wrong - I am very happy for all of my friends that God is blessing their families so much. But it's very hard to combine grief for the loss of Mom with the grief that comes with infertility - well, whatever you want to call it when medical issues make the possibility of pregnancy pretty remote.
So, yeah, I cry easily these days.
Saturday, December 28, 2013
2013 - year in review
2013 has been one of the most difficult years of my life, and one with the most change.
In January, we were seriously struggling. My husband had been out of work for almost 9 months, and the couple of possible jobs he had been offered turned out to be horrible experiences that only destroyed his self-confidence more. We were relying on my measly teaching salary as our only income, which didn't cover our bills. We were going deeper into debt and having to rely on our families to help us cover our expenses. It was devastating to our morale. I would spend hours every day searching for and applying for jobs, for either of us, all to no avail.
By mid-February, I was getting desperate for extra work. I finally convinced my husband to let me email the director of our church's elementary school to ask if she needed substitute teachers. I had met her while working the sound board for a women's ministry event she spoke at, so I wrote her the email. Later that week, we picked up substitute applications for both of us and kept praying God would open doors for my husband. A few days later, the director emailed me again asking if I had any desire to interview for a temporary floater position that opened up on the preschool side when one staff member fell and broke her arm. I had never worked in a preschool, but we were desperate, so I said yes.
I was hired as a temporary full-time employee on February 21st. It was challenging, especially with my working two jobs and my husband still out of work. His depression was pretty deep, and I worried a lot about him. He was given the opportunity to sub numerous times, which was helpful for us both. We also realized that the director could be a good reference for future applications, which was a plus, since she thought he was phenomenal. After about six weeks, I was invited to stay on for the rest of the school year due to some staffing changes. Near the end of April, Mom fell and broke her leg right below the hip - the exact same spot my grandmother had broken six years ago. She had successful surgery, but we knew then that the cancer must be spreading again. We knew things wouldn't probably get any better this time. At the end of May, I was brought in to the joint school office and given a promotion. So for the summer, I was teaching online and working the closing shift at the school.
Around the time I transferred into the office, Mom and Dad made the decision to stop treatment and go into hospice care. The oncologist only kept suggesting aggressive chemo, but there was no real hope that it would prolong her life. The decision to go into hospice was not unexpected, and Mom was in relatively good spirits.
In July, I had finally convinced my husband to apply for some teaching jobs outside of our local district, because we were still seriously hurting for money to pay bills. He eventually was hired to teach high school English at a charter school in a poor part of town. He was scared and nervous about his ability to do the job well, but we knew we didn't really have any other options. It took forever for him to get to sign the paperwork - it was almost three weeks from his interview to the time that they asked him to come to the school to fill out hiring paperwork, then he had to apply for a different fingerprint clearance card (they made a special new category for teachers), etc. But he finally started work the last week of July.
The fall semester has been a busy one, and a challenging one. For the months of August and September, my husband would leave for work around 7 and not get home until around 6 or 6:30 p.m.; I would leave for work around 9:30 a.m. and not get home until around 7 p.m. And of course, I am still teaching online, so I'd have grading to do in the mornings and/or evenings most days. Cooking dinner was a serious challenge, as we both would want to rest and head to bed. Near the end of September, we got the call that Dad thought Mom was heading downhill. I had suspected that the cancer was in her head for a few months, because one of her eyes was not tracking any more; in photos, it looks like she was cross-eyed. Most likely the cancer was pushing her optical muscles, preventing her from seeing normally.
A few days after that phone call, in the midst of serious questioning as to whether I could get home in time to see her, I got a message from my brother, asking if I was okay. I thought that was especially sweet, since we rarely talk at all. While writing him back, I got another message telling me this person was sorry for my loss. My heart stopped when I realized that Mom must have died and no one had told me. A few minutes later, I got the confirmation. The world hasn't been the same since.
The next week was a blur, working, flying home, having Mom's funeral on my birthday, flying standby and having to wait an extra day to get back home. The next weekend, my husband and I had planned to head out of town for a long weekend, and my bosses were nice enough to let me go. The following weekend, we drove to my grandparents' (mom's parents) for their 70th wedding anniversary. October was very busy... In the midst of all of the craziness, my coworker left and I was promoted again; except this time, no one took my place in my old position, and so now I do everything for both positions without any help. It also meant a change in my shift, from closing to opening. So now I am up at 4:30 a.m. most mornings, at work by 5:30 a.m., and often don't end up being relieved so I can go home until I've worked far more than 8 hours. When I get home, then it's time to work on my teaching job, trying to stay on top of grading as my students submit their work. Needless to say, I'm pretty exhausted most days.
November was just exhausting for both of us, with work taking up pretty much all of our time. My in-laws came for Thanksgiving, and I was spending a lot of time at choir practice preparing for our cantata. December brought more work, two Sundays of singing (both at our home church and at the church we partnered with - the church my parents were members of when I was born), lots of time on worship team, and, finally, Christmas. Dad came out in November and spent some time with us before heading out to my grandmother's. He came back for the cantata, then headed to my mom's parents' and to see my brother. He came back again with Grandma for Christmas day, and now is finally on his way home.
As I sit here tonight, my husband is in the Midwest with his family; he flew out the day after Christmas. I've learned in the last two days that I can't fall asleep without him here. It's quiet and lonely here, so I've been trying to stay busy working on a puzzle, reading, playing a video game, etc. Today has been especially hard, with my husband gone, a huge migraine that began by 1 p.m. and hasn't gone away yet, and the fact that today would have been my parents' 40th wedding anniversary.
2013 has been a hard, hard, hard year. I'm grateful for God's provision through all of it. I'm especially grateful that I had six days shy of 32 years with my mom. But I'm ready for a fresh start. I'm ready to say goodbye to this year and start 2014 new. God says that He is making all things new - I need to embrace the new, find my place again.
Goodbye, 2013. May 2014 find us healthier, happier, and closer to God.
In January, we were seriously struggling. My husband had been out of work for almost 9 months, and the couple of possible jobs he had been offered turned out to be horrible experiences that only destroyed his self-confidence more. We were relying on my measly teaching salary as our only income, which didn't cover our bills. We were going deeper into debt and having to rely on our families to help us cover our expenses. It was devastating to our morale. I would spend hours every day searching for and applying for jobs, for either of us, all to no avail.
By mid-February, I was getting desperate for extra work. I finally convinced my husband to let me email the director of our church's elementary school to ask if she needed substitute teachers. I had met her while working the sound board for a women's ministry event she spoke at, so I wrote her the email. Later that week, we picked up substitute applications for both of us and kept praying God would open doors for my husband. A few days later, the director emailed me again asking if I had any desire to interview for a temporary floater position that opened up on the preschool side when one staff member fell and broke her arm. I had never worked in a preschool, but we were desperate, so I said yes.
I was hired as a temporary full-time employee on February 21st. It was challenging, especially with my working two jobs and my husband still out of work. His depression was pretty deep, and I worried a lot about him. He was given the opportunity to sub numerous times, which was helpful for us both. We also realized that the director could be a good reference for future applications, which was a plus, since she thought he was phenomenal. After about six weeks, I was invited to stay on for the rest of the school year due to some staffing changes. Near the end of April, Mom fell and broke her leg right below the hip - the exact same spot my grandmother had broken six years ago. She had successful surgery, but we knew then that the cancer must be spreading again. We knew things wouldn't probably get any better this time. At the end of May, I was brought in to the joint school office and given a promotion. So for the summer, I was teaching online and working the closing shift at the school.
Around the time I transferred into the office, Mom and Dad made the decision to stop treatment and go into hospice care. The oncologist only kept suggesting aggressive chemo, but there was no real hope that it would prolong her life. The decision to go into hospice was not unexpected, and Mom was in relatively good spirits.
In July, I had finally convinced my husband to apply for some teaching jobs outside of our local district, because we were still seriously hurting for money to pay bills. He eventually was hired to teach high school English at a charter school in a poor part of town. He was scared and nervous about his ability to do the job well, but we knew we didn't really have any other options. It took forever for him to get to sign the paperwork - it was almost three weeks from his interview to the time that they asked him to come to the school to fill out hiring paperwork, then he had to apply for a different fingerprint clearance card (they made a special new category for teachers), etc. But he finally started work the last week of July.
The fall semester has been a busy one, and a challenging one. For the months of August and September, my husband would leave for work around 7 and not get home until around 6 or 6:30 p.m.; I would leave for work around 9:30 a.m. and not get home until around 7 p.m. And of course, I am still teaching online, so I'd have grading to do in the mornings and/or evenings most days. Cooking dinner was a serious challenge, as we both would want to rest and head to bed. Near the end of September, we got the call that Dad thought Mom was heading downhill. I had suspected that the cancer was in her head for a few months, because one of her eyes was not tracking any more; in photos, it looks like she was cross-eyed. Most likely the cancer was pushing her optical muscles, preventing her from seeing normally.
A few days after that phone call, in the midst of serious questioning as to whether I could get home in time to see her, I got a message from my brother, asking if I was okay. I thought that was especially sweet, since we rarely talk at all. While writing him back, I got another message telling me this person was sorry for my loss. My heart stopped when I realized that Mom must have died and no one had told me. A few minutes later, I got the confirmation. The world hasn't been the same since.
The next week was a blur, working, flying home, having Mom's funeral on my birthday, flying standby and having to wait an extra day to get back home. The next weekend, my husband and I had planned to head out of town for a long weekend, and my bosses were nice enough to let me go. The following weekend, we drove to my grandparents' (mom's parents) for their 70th wedding anniversary. October was very busy... In the midst of all of the craziness, my coworker left and I was promoted again; except this time, no one took my place in my old position, and so now I do everything for both positions without any help. It also meant a change in my shift, from closing to opening. So now I am up at 4:30 a.m. most mornings, at work by 5:30 a.m., and often don't end up being relieved so I can go home until I've worked far more than 8 hours. When I get home, then it's time to work on my teaching job, trying to stay on top of grading as my students submit their work. Needless to say, I'm pretty exhausted most days.
November was just exhausting for both of us, with work taking up pretty much all of our time. My in-laws came for Thanksgiving, and I was spending a lot of time at choir practice preparing for our cantata. December brought more work, two Sundays of singing (both at our home church and at the church we partnered with - the church my parents were members of when I was born), lots of time on worship team, and, finally, Christmas. Dad came out in November and spent some time with us before heading out to my grandmother's. He came back for the cantata, then headed to my mom's parents' and to see my brother. He came back again with Grandma for Christmas day, and now is finally on his way home.
As I sit here tonight, my husband is in the Midwest with his family; he flew out the day after Christmas. I've learned in the last two days that I can't fall asleep without him here. It's quiet and lonely here, so I've been trying to stay busy working on a puzzle, reading, playing a video game, etc. Today has been especially hard, with my husband gone, a huge migraine that began by 1 p.m. and hasn't gone away yet, and the fact that today would have been my parents' 40th wedding anniversary.
2013 has been a hard, hard, hard year. I'm grateful for God's provision through all of it. I'm especially grateful that I had six days shy of 32 years with my mom. But I'm ready for a fresh start. I'm ready to say goodbye to this year and start 2014 new. God says that He is making all things new - I need to embrace the new, find my place again.
Goodbye, 2013. May 2014 find us healthier, happier, and closer to God.
Saturday, December 14, 2013
Christmas Gifts
If you are struggling to decide what to do for your loved ones this
Christmas, I'd like to propose that you do something for others in their
honor in place of traditional gifting of things. I have three
organizations that I love that would truly make a difference in the
world. Each of these organizations has a Christmas Gift Catalog on
their website:
1) Compassion International - http://www.compassion.com/catalog
Some of my favorite gifts that will go to needy families around the world:
**Safe Water for Life - for $79, give a water filtration system that can provide enough clean water for an entire village for over 60 years. Yes, you read that right - for over 6 decades, with simple maintenance.
**Care for an infant for one year - for $55, provide medical care for a new child for the first year of life.
**Provide Shelter / Support - for $42, provide shelter, food, and clothing for an orphan or abused or exploited child for one month.
Or, of course, you could sponsor a child for $32 a month and help provide food, education, and love each month.
2) Gospel for Asia - http://www.gfa.org/gift
This was my Mom's favorite charity, and so I just donated in her memory for Christmas. Some of my favorites:
**A pair of Rabbits - for only $11, provide a pair of rabbits that will be a source of income and food for years.
**A pair of Pigs - for $65, provide a pair of pigs that can produce up to 20 piglets a year; each piglet will grow to be over 200 lbs within 5 months, and will be a source of long-term income and food for a family.
**Provide for widows and orphans - for $75, help missionaries provide for widows (who are often blamed for their husbands' deaths in SE Asia) and orphans
**Mosquito nets - for just $10, you can provide netting that will protect a family against mosquitos, helping to prevent malaria and even death.
Or you could sponsor a child for $35 a month, or sponsor a missionary for $30 a month.
3) World Vision - http://www.worldvisiongifts.org
I received their catalog this last week, and used to sponsor a child with Mom when I was a kid. Some of the more interesting gifts here:
**Drought-resistant seeds - for just $17, you can provide a family with hybrid or drought-resistant seeds to help stave off famine and starvation.
**Multiplying gifts: World Vision partners with companies that agree to multiply your donation by a certain amount. A couple that I like a lot are:
*****Life-saving Medicines and supplies - you give $60, they multiply it by 10 to provide $600 worth of supplies.
*****Clothing - you give $50, they multiply it by 10 to provide $500 worth of clothes
**Help sexually exploited girls - for $35, help provide food, safe shelter, counseling, medical care, and vocational training to women and girls rescued from human trafficking.
Or you could sponsor a child for around $35 a month.
Mom felt strongly about the importance of blessing others when God has blessed us. My pastor quoted someone a few weeks ago in his sermon: "Do for one person what you wish you could do for everyone."
This Christmas, will you join me in doing for at least one family in need what I wish we could do for every family?
1) Compassion International - http://www.compassion.com/catalog
Some of my favorite gifts that will go to needy families around the world:
**Safe Water for Life - for $79, give a water filtration system that can provide enough clean water for an entire village for over 60 years. Yes, you read that right - for over 6 decades, with simple maintenance.
**Care for an infant for one year - for $55, provide medical care for a new child for the first year of life.
**Provide Shelter / Support - for $42, provide shelter, food, and clothing for an orphan or abused or exploited child for one month.
Or, of course, you could sponsor a child for $32 a month and help provide food, education, and love each month.
2) Gospel for Asia - http://www.gfa.org/gift
This was my Mom's favorite charity, and so I just donated in her memory for Christmas. Some of my favorites:
**A pair of Rabbits - for only $11, provide a pair of rabbits that will be a source of income and food for years.
**A pair of Pigs - for $65, provide a pair of pigs that can produce up to 20 piglets a year; each piglet will grow to be over 200 lbs within 5 months, and will be a source of long-term income and food for a family.
**Provide for widows and orphans - for $75, help missionaries provide for widows (who are often blamed for their husbands' deaths in SE Asia) and orphans
**Mosquito nets - for just $10, you can provide netting that will protect a family against mosquitos, helping to prevent malaria and even death.
Or you could sponsor a child for $35 a month, or sponsor a missionary for $30 a month.
3) World Vision - http://www.worldvisiongifts.org
I received their catalog this last week, and used to sponsor a child with Mom when I was a kid. Some of the more interesting gifts here:
**Drought-resistant seeds - for just $17, you can provide a family with hybrid or drought-resistant seeds to help stave off famine and starvation.
**Multiplying gifts: World Vision partners with companies that agree to multiply your donation by a certain amount. A couple that I like a lot are:
*****Life-saving Medicines and supplies - you give $60, they multiply it by 10 to provide $600 worth of supplies.
*****Clothing - you give $50, they multiply it by 10 to provide $500 worth of clothes
**Help sexually exploited girls - for $35, help provide food, safe shelter, counseling, medical care, and vocational training to women and girls rescued from human trafficking.
Or you could sponsor a child for around $35 a month.
Mom felt strongly about the importance of blessing others when God has blessed us. My pastor quoted someone a few weeks ago in his sermon: "Do for one person what you wish you could do for everyone."
This Christmas, will you join me in doing for at least one family in need what I wish we could do for every family?
Thursday, December 5, 2013
Grief is hard
Grief is hard.
It sneaks up on you when you least expect it, overwhelming you and threatening to bring all else to a standstill. The things that bring grief to the surface are not always what you'd expect, and some things that you'd think would spark an outpouring leave you nothing but numb.
In the past two months, things that have brought me to me knees with grief have been as varied as the stars, my cell phone, hearing a certain person singing, folding laundry, and discussing Christmas decorations and traditions. Over Thanksgiving, I started sobbing while folding laundry because it reminded me of my mom laughing every year because her mother always sent her (and Mom's siblings) underwear. Mom used to laugh and joke about it, because she was over 50 and still getting socks and underwear from her mother. I was a wreck because I was folding underwear, but Mom wouldn't ever do that again.
I never know when the grief will strike.
The holiday season is really difficult for me this year. My in-laws were here for Thanksgiving, and I tried so hard to get into the spirit, since it was always my favorite holiday. But I think I wasn't that great of a host, between work, migraines, and grief. It just wasn't the same.
I haven't got into the Christmas spirit at all. It just hurts. Looking at everyone's decorations reminds me of Mom's decorations. Looking at Christmas lights in the neighborhoods brings back memories of all the years driving around on Christmas Eve because Mom loved it so.
I'm going to be alone for a week right after Christmas, and I'm not looking forward to it. Time alone is time that I normally would have been on the phone talking to Mom. I don't do well alone these days.
I know Mom is perfect and happy. But it hurts so much to have lost my mother and my best friend.
As I said, grief is hard.
It sneaks up on you when you least expect it, overwhelming you and threatening to bring all else to a standstill. The things that bring grief to the surface are not always what you'd expect, and some things that you'd think would spark an outpouring leave you nothing but numb.
In the past two months, things that have brought me to me knees with grief have been as varied as the stars, my cell phone, hearing a certain person singing, folding laundry, and discussing Christmas decorations and traditions. Over Thanksgiving, I started sobbing while folding laundry because it reminded me of my mom laughing every year because her mother always sent her (and Mom's siblings) underwear. Mom used to laugh and joke about it, because she was over 50 and still getting socks and underwear from her mother. I was a wreck because I was folding underwear, but Mom wouldn't ever do that again.
I never know when the grief will strike.
The holiday season is really difficult for me this year. My in-laws were here for Thanksgiving, and I tried so hard to get into the spirit, since it was always my favorite holiday. But I think I wasn't that great of a host, between work, migraines, and grief. It just wasn't the same.
I haven't got into the Christmas spirit at all. It just hurts. Looking at everyone's decorations reminds me of Mom's decorations. Looking at Christmas lights in the neighborhoods brings back memories of all the years driving around on Christmas Eve because Mom loved it so.
I'm going to be alone for a week right after Christmas, and I'm not looking forward to it. Time alone is time that I normally would have been on the phone talking to Mom. I don't do well alone these days.
I know Mom is perfect and happy. But it hurts so much to have lost my mother and my best friend.
As I said, grief is hard.
Sunday, November 10, 2013
Musings
It's been exactly 6 weeks since my mom left this life to be with God.
I wish I could say that it's gotten easier, but it hasn't. I routinely burst into uncontrollable sobs at the drop of a hat. I couldn't handle sitting through a church service for pretty much the whole month of October. Today was our first day back in church since October 6th. (Granted, we were out of town two weekends in row, but still missed church two other weeks.)
I managed to get through church without sobbing, which was excellent, especially considering I was singing in the choir and playing piano for all three services.
I feel like I go from being so wholly overwhelmed by grief to being so busy that I can't think of anything but the task at hand. Two weeks after I got home from Mom's funeral, my co-worker at the school announced she was leaving for a new job. I was offered the promotion into the administrative assistant/office manager position, and after talking it over with my husband, accepted it. That left me with exactly 3.5 days to train before my coworker left. I've been in the position for exactly two weeks and have been completely exhausted by it. I hardly ever get to see my husband, since he doesn't get home until 6:30 most days, and I'm brain-dead by that point. We are definitely going through a rough adjustment period. The upside to all of this is that I'm too busy to spend the whole day sobbing. But I am more than happy to have the day off tomorrow.
We're heading into what is usually my favorite time of year - Thanksgiving. I confess that I'm having trouble getting excited about the holidays this year. It just doesn't seem the same without Mom. I don't know what it will be like to not be able to call her and talk about dinner menus and cooking techniques and football and whatever else we'd end up discussing.
I am not looking forward to the holidays without Mom, but I definitely want to honor her this winter. I just made my Wish List on Compassion International's website. Every year, they have a gift catalog to help those who are in most need of help. The last couple of years, my parents and I did not give each other gifts, but chose gifts through Compassion or Gospel for Asia in each other's honor instead.
I'm hoping that anyone who wants to honor my Mom's memory will choose to give instead of receive this year. Think of all the good we can do, all those we could help if we'd be willing to give up our own gifts and help provide medical care, food, clean water, shelter, education, and disaster relief for the least of these!
If you are interested, please click here: http://wishlist.compassion.com/rja2013_list
And hug your loved ones, remember to tell them you love them.
I wish I could say that it's gotten easier, but it hasn't. I routinely burst into uncontrollable sobs at the drop of a hat. I couldn't handle sitting through a church service for pretty much the whole month of October. Today was our first day back in church since October 6th. (Granted, we were out of town two weekends in row, but still missed church two other weeks.)
I managed to get through church without sobbing, which was excellent, especially considering I was singing in the choir and playing piano for all three services.
I feel like I go from being so wholly overwhelmed by grief to being so busy that I can't think of anything but the task at hand. Two weeks after I got home from Mom's funeral, my co-worker at the school announced she was leaving for a new job. I was offered the promotion into the administrative assistant/office manager position, and after talking it over with my husband, accepted it. That left me with exactly 3.5 days to train before my coworker left. I've been in the position for exactly two weeks and have been completely exhausted by it. I hardly ever get to see my husband, since he doesn't get home until 6:30 most days, and I'm brain-dead by that point. We are definitely going through a rough adjustment period. The upside to all of this is that I'm too busy to spend the whole day sobbing. But I am more than happy to have the day off tomorrow.
We're heading into what is usually my favorite time of year - Thanksgiving. I confess that I'm having trouble getting excited about the holidays this year. It just doesn't seem the same without Mom. I don't know what it will be like to not be able to call her and talk about dinner menus and cooking techniques and football and whatever else we'd end up discussing.
I am not looking forward to the holidays without Mom, but I definitely want to honor her this winter. I just made my Wish List on Compassion International's website. Every year, they have a gift catalog to help those who are in most need of help. The last couple of years, my parents and I did not give each other gifts, but chose gifts through Compassion or Gospel for Asia in each other's honor instead.
I'm hoping that anyone who wants to honor my Mom's memory will choose to give instead of receive this year. Think of all the good we can do, all those we could help if we'd be willing to give up our own gifts and help provide medical care, food, clean water, shelter, education, and disaster relief for the least of these!
If you are interested, please click here: http://wishlist.compassion.com/rja2013_list
And hug your loved ones, remember to tell them you love them.
Sunday, October 13, 2013
Not really lost
My mom left this world and entered heaven at 8:48 p.m. on Sunday, September 29th. It was both unbearably expected and yet completely sudden.
I still am struggling to realize that the phone call I made the day before was the last time Mom heard my voice before she left. I told her that we were okay, and that I loved her with all my heart. But I still wish I could have talked to her one more time.
My husband and I flew back East three days later, thanks in no small part to our church family here, which supported us by helping us obtain stand-by tickets for about 1/4 the regular price; one couple taking care of our kitties while we were gone, combining to give us around $300 in cash to help us with "incidentals," and the church offered to pay our mortgage for this month so we could use the money to get home. We were wholly overwhelmed by the generosity of all involved.
Being home was hard. It was hard staying in the house without Mom in it. It was hard seeing all of the things that Mom had bought me over the years - like the stuffed animals she would get me when we went on a trip together or for special occasions, books that we had read together, so many memories filling the entire house. I tried to do what I could, cooking my best casserole for the entire family for lunch on Thursday. It was nice to spend time with the extended family, but sad as well.
Thank goodness for baseball. It served as our escape most days.
The service was on my birthday. It was an oddly surreal experience. My brother wasn't able to be there, so I called his conference number at work, put my phone on the podium where the minister would be, and he listened in for the entire service. I tried not to sob, but I couldn't stop for most of the service. I had to tell a few of Mom's closest friends things that I thought she would want them to know. I barely got through that.
The world isn't the same. It's a bit skewed, suddenly. My beloved desert wasn't quite as beautiful. Food just doesn't taste quite as delicious. I find I look at the stars more often, but instead of thinking of the majesty of God's creative work, I wonder what Mom might be doing in heaven. I find it hard to concentrate on, well, anything.
I know I'll see her again. I know that she is perfect. I know that she is in perfect joy with her Savior. I know where she is. In that way, she's not truly "lost." But she's far away.
But I'm selfish, and want to call her and hear her laugh and tell her how much I love her. I miss her every minute. And now I have to figure out how to move forward without her advice and humor and love to guide me.
I still am struggling to realize that the phone call I made the day before was the last time Mom heard my voice before she left. I told her that we were okay, and that I loved her with all my heart. But I still wish I could have talked to her one more time.
My husband and I flew back East three days later, thanks in no small part to our church family here, which supported us by helping us obtain stand-by tickets for about 1/4 the regular price; one couple taking care of our kitties while we were gone, combining to give us around $300 in cash to help us with "incidentals," and the church offered to pay our mortgage for this month so we could use the money to get home. We were wholly overwhelmed by the generosity of all involved.
Being home was hard. It was hard staying in the house without Mom in it. It was hard seeing all of the things that Mom had bought me over the years - like the stuffed animals she would get me when we went on a trip together or for special occasions, books that we had read together, so many memories filling the entire house. I tried to do what I could, cooking my best casserole for the entire family for lunch on Thursday. It was nice to spend time with the extended family, but sad as well.
Thank goodness for baseball. It served as our escape most days.
The service was on my birthday. It was an oddly surreal experience. My brother wasn't able to be there, so I called his conference number at work, put my phone on the podium where the minister would be, and he listened in for the entire service. I tried not to sob, but I couldn't stop for most of the service. I had to tell a few of Mom's closest friends things that I thought she would want them to know. I barely got through that.
The world isn't the same. It's a bit skewed, suddenly. My beloved desert wasn't quite as beautiful. Food just doesn't taste quite as delicious. I find I look at the stars more often, but instead of thinking of the majesty of God's creative work, I wonder what Mom might be doing in heaven. I find it hard to concentrate on, well, anything.
I know I'll see her again. I know that she is perfect. I know that she is in perfect joy with her Savior. I know where she is. In that way, she's not truly "lost." But she's far away.
But I'm selfish, and want to call her and hear her laugh and tell her how much I love her. I miss her every minute. And now I have to figure out how to move forward without her advice and humor and love to guide me.
Saturday, September 28, 2013
Nearing the end
Last night, about 30 minutes after I got home, just after my husband and I finished our late dinner, my phone rang. I knew immediately it wasn't good news, because it was my dad calling. And considering that it was around 10:30 p.m. Eastern, my heart just sank.
Dad told me that it looks like my mom's cancer fight is nearing its end. She is rarely awake for more than a few minutes, is barely eating or drinking, and gets very agitated when asleep, crying out for her mom often. The hospice nurse doesn't expect that Mom will be with us for more than a few weeks.
I had thought that, seeing as how I have been bracing myself for this part of Mom's journey for four years (the four-year mark of hearing the word "cancer" is on Wednesday) that it would be easier, less painful.
I was wrong. The long, slow trudge toward the end is no less painful, no less devastating because I knew it was coming.
Please pray for us.
Dad told me that it looks like my mom's cancer fight is nearing its end. She is rarely awake for more than a few minutes, is barely eating or drinking, and gets very agitated when asleep, crying out for her mom often. The hospice nurse doesn't expect that Mom will be with us for more than a few weeks.
I had thought that, seeing as how I have been bracing myself for this part of Mom's journey for four years (the four-year mark of hearing the word "cancer" is on Wednesday) that it would be easier, less painful.
I was wrong. The long, slow trudge toward the end is no less painful, no less devastating because I knew it was coming.
Please pray for us.
Sunday, September 22, 2013
Wisdom
"If any of you lacks wisdom, you should ask God, who gives generously to all without finding fault, and it will be given to you." ~James 1:5
Wisdom is one of those things that we desperately need right now. Everything just seems so uncertain. The biggest question in my mind right now is: when do I need to go be with Mom? It's not an easy question to answer. My brother, grandparents, uncle, as well as another aunt & cousin have all gone to see Mom since she went on hospice care. I'm one of the only ones to not be there at all.
I live a good 3 days' drive or one long day of at least two flights away. I don't have any vacation time and don't really have any personal time to speak of for job #1/2, and we don't have the ability financially to go anyway. So the question becomes: do I go now while Mom's still aware and still has time left, or do I have to wait until it's the very end to say goodbye? I have no idea what to do.
From what I have gathered from Dad, Mom is definitely in a decline. The hospice nurse confirmed that Dad was seeing what he thinks he was seeing. Obviously no one can say, "that means you have exactly 4 weeks left," but she did confirm that it looked like Mom was starting the stage where patients begin to withdraw and food becomes less important, and the weakness is bad enough that she can't get up and down or walk on her own any more.
This has sent me into a bit of an emotional tailspin. I read a short booklet (really, a long pamphlet, as it was only about 16 pages long) that called what I'm experiencing "Anticipatory or Expected Grief." Apparently, it's common for families living with a family member in hospice care. It's exactly what it sounds like - grieving for the expected loss before it actually occurs. The pamphlet described it well - rehearsing the death of your loved one in your mind, feeling intense guilt because society expects that you only grieve for a short time after the fact, experiencing all the physical symptoms of grief but feeling a need to hide the pain for fear of others thinking that you somehow want your loved one to be gone already, and questioning how you will move forward after the eventual loss.
The pamphlet didn't really give me any ways to cope with this grief - which I've been dealing with for just under four years now. (It will be four years since we first heard the diagnosis of "cancer" on October 3rd; it will be four years since the diagnosis of metastatic breast cancer on October 16th.) But at least it made me feel like I'm not completely insane... says the woman who completely broke down within the first five minutes of our church service this morning and spent most of the sermon trying to recover her composure.
Anyway, wisdom is definitely needed these days.
Wisdom is one of those things that we desperately need right now. Everything just seems so uncertain. The biggest question in my mind right now is: when do I need to go be with Mom? It's not an easy question to answer. My brother, grandparents, uncle, as well as another aunt & cousin have all gone to see Mom since she went on hospice care. I'm one of the only ones to not be there at all.
I live a good 3 days' drive or one long day of at least two flights away. I don't have any vacation time and don't really have any personal time to speak of for job #1/2, and we don't have the ability financially to go anyway. So the question becomes: do I go now while Mom's still aware and still has time left, or do I have to wait until it's the very end to say goodbye? I have no idea what to do.
From what I have gathered from Dad, Mom is definitely in a decline. The hospice nurse confirmed that Dad was seeing what he thinks he was seeing. Obviously no one can say, "that means you have exactly 4 weeks left," but she did confirm that it looked like Mom was starting the stage where patients begin to withdraw and food becomes less important, and the weakness is bad enough that she can't get up and down or walk on her own any more.
This has sent me into a bit of an emotional tailspin. I read a short booklet (really, a long pamphlet, as it was only about 16 pages long) that called what I'm experiencing "Anticipatory or Expected Grief." Apparently, it's common for families living with a family member in hospice care. It's exactly what it sounds like - grieving for the expected loss before it actually occurs. The pamphlet described it well - rehearsing the death of your loved one in your mind, feeling intense guilt because society expects that you only grieve for a short time after the fact, experiencing all the physical symptoms of grief but feeling a need to hide the pain for fear of others thinking that you somehow want your loved one to be gone already, and questioning how you will move forward after the eventual loss.
The pamphlet didn't really give me any ways to cope with this grief - which I've been dealing with for just under four years now. (It will be four years since we first heard the diagnosis of "cancer" on October 3rd; it will be four years since the diagnosis of metastatic breast cancer on October 16th.) But at least it made me feel like I'm not completely insane... says the woman who completely broke down within the first five minutes of our church service this morning and spent most of the sermon trying to recover her composure.
Anyway, wisdom is definitely needed these days.
Sunday, June 16, 2013
Update
So I haven't written in a long time, mainly because life has been really, really stressful, and I figured no one needed to hear about all of it. But since Jayne asked, here is the cliff's notes version.
Work: I'm working two jobs, and am beyond exhausted. For three months I was an assistant teacher/floater at the preschool our church runs. I worked 40 hours a week, but it was supposed to be a short-term gig. Ultimately, they asked me to stay on, and three weeks ago they promoted me to one of the two office staff. So now I work 10-6:30 five days a week, plus I still have my part-time college teaching gig. I was trying to pull back from my volunteer duties at church, but seem to be pulled back in each week. (And next Sunday begins VBS... which I'm in no way ready for...) My husband is still unemployed, and hasn't had a response in a long time, despite applying to more jobs than we can even count. I keep praying that God provides something for him soon, because I am so ready to go back to only working one job, and really need my husband to feel good about himself again. We trust that God is fully in control, but we are so ready to be done with this season in our life.
Family: My parents called in the middle of last week and told me that they have made the decision to place Mom in the care of Hospice. Essentially, medically there is nothing more to be done. The oncologist's only suggestion (actually, his only suggestion for at least the last six months) was aggressive chemotherapy. But considering the progress of Mom's cancer, there wasn't any real promise that chemo would improve her quality of life, and wouldn't necessarily prolong her life much, either. So a hospice/home health nurse has been assigned and is beginning to help Dad with Mom's care at home.
I go back and forth between being at peace and being an emotional wreck. On the one hand, I've been expecting this ever since Mom's diagnosis 4 years ago. I thought it was going to come that Christmas, when things were going so horribly. Knowing that Mom's suffering might finally be coming to a close and she'll be able to go home to Jesus is not a scary thought. But on the other hand, I'm in emotional turmoil.
I told my husband the other day that I'm grieving, and have been for 4 years, in a sense. When Mom first got her diagnosis, I grieved for Mom's pain. I grieved for the loss of a potential future that I had expected to have with her. I grieved for the spiritual and emotional turmoil my parents were in.
But then things improved, Mom was doing fairly well, and was well enough to help me plan our wedding and was my de facto wedding coordinator. When things started to get worse earlier this year, I feared that all the progress she had made might be slipping away. Once her leg broke and she needed surgery to repair it, I was sure of it. As things got worse, my grieving changed. It has been mainly about the loss of our relationship as it had been, the loss of my best friend as she was unable to talk with me the way we used to do, and as it got harder for her to be the person I have known for 30 years.
Now, with the decision to go to hospice, I'm grieving again, in a new way. Now, it's grieving the loss of hope - at least for this life. It's grieving the suffering that I know is here - for Mom, for Dad, for my brother and me, my grandparents, and all those who love my parents. It's grief for the suffering that I know is still to come as we approach the end. It's grief for knowing with certainty that Mom will never live to be a grandmother, that she won't be there if and when God allows us to become parents. It's grief for the future that Dad won't have with Mom.
This new grief is more certain, less rooted in my natural pessimism and more in medical fact. Perhaps that is what makes it so much more gut-wrenching. Before, there was always the hope that we could keep the cancer at bay for a few more years. There was the hope that I was looking too much at the negative, in the hopes of sparing my heart the trauma of a sudden turn-around. But now, we know that the medical options are done. It's now solely about trying to get ahead of the pain to help her have a better quality of life for however long she has left.
I don't fear for Mom in death - I have confidence that "to be absent from the body is to be present with the Lord," as Paul said so beautifully. But I dread the slow walk to death, for her and for all of us.
So this is where we are. It's been a hard, hard year. But I will still rejoice in the LORD, will praise Him for providing for us. I know that I know that I know that He is good, and that He loves us, and He is wholly in control, even of Mom's cancer.
I could never do this without Christ, or without the amazing man God gave me to two years ago. He is my partner and my strength, always ready to hold me and pray for me. I am so grateful for my husband, for his strength, and his encouragement.
Work: I'm working two jobs, and am beyond exhausted. For three months I was an assistant teacher/floater at the preschool our church runs. I worked 40 hours a week, but it was supposed to be a short-term gig. Ultimately, they asked me to stay on, and three weeks ago they promoted me to one of the two office staff. So now I work 10-6:30 five days a week, plus I still have my part-time college teaching gig. I was trying to pull back from my volunteer duties at church, but seem to be pulled back in each week. (And next Sunday begins VBS... which I'm in no way ready for...) My husband is still unemployed, and hasn't had a response in a long time, despite applying to more jobs than we can even count. I keep praying that God provides something for him soon, because I am so ready to go back to only working one job, and really need my husband to feel good about himself again. We trust that God is fully in control, but we are so ready to be done with this season in our life.
Family: My parents called in the middle of last week and told me that they have made the decision to place Mom in the care of Hospice. Essentially, medically there is nothing more to be done. The oncologist's only suggestion (actually, his only suggestion for at least the last six months) was aggressive chemotherapy. But considering the progress of Mom's cancer, there wasn't any real promise that chemo would improve her quality of life, and wouldn't necessarily prolong her life much, either. So a hospice/home health nurse has been assigned and is beginning to help Dad with Mom's care at home.
I go back and forth between being at peace and being an emotional wreck. On the one hand, I've been expecting this ever since Mom's diagnosis 4 years ago. I thought it was going to come that Christmas, when things were going so horribly. Knowing that Mom's suffering might finally be coming to a close and she'll be able to go home to Jesus is not a scary thought. But on the other hand, I'm in emotional turmoil.
I told my husband the other day that I'm grieving, and have been for 4 years, in a sense. When Mom first got her diagnosis, I grieved for Mom's pain. I grieved for the loss of a potential future that I had expected to have with her. I grieved for the spiritual and emotional turmoil my parents were in.
But then things improved, Mom was doing fairly well, and was well enough to help me plan our wedding and was my de facto wedding coordinator. When things started to get worse earlier this year, I feared that all the progress she had made might be slipping away. Once her leg broke and she needed surgery to repair it, I was sure of it. As things got worse, my grieving changed. It has been mainly about the loss of our relationship as it had been, the loss of my best friend as she was unable to talk with me the way we used to do, and as it got harder for her to be the person I have known for 30 years.
Now, with the decision to go to hospice, I'm grieving again, in a new way. Now, it's grieving the loss of hope - at least for this life. It's grieving the suffering that I know is here - for Mom, for Dad, for my brother and me, my grandparents, and all those who love my parents. It's grief for the suffering that I know is still to come as we approach the end. It's grief for knowing with certainty that Mom will never live to be a grandmother, that she won't be there if and when God allows us to become parents. It's grief for the future that Dad won't have with Mom.
This new grief is more certain, less rooted in my natural pessimism and more in medical fact. Perhaps that is what makes it so much more gut-wrenching. Before, there was always the hope that we could keep the cancer at bay for a few more years. There was the hope that I was looking too much at the negative, in the hopes of sparing my heart the trauma of a sudden turn-around. But now, we know that the medical options are done. It's now solely about trying to get ahead of the pain to help her have a better quality of life for however long she has left.
I don't fear for Mom in death - I have confidence that "to be absent from the body is to be present with the Lord," as Paul said so beautifully. But I dread the slow walk to death, for her and for all of us.
So this is where we are. It's been a hard, hard year. But I will still rejoice in the LORD, will praise Him for providing for us. I know that I know that I know that He is good, and that He loves us, and He is wholly in control, even of Mom's cancer.
I could never do this without Christ, or without the amazing man God gave me to two years ago. He is my partner and my strength, always ready to hold me and pray for me. I am so grateful for my husband, for his strength, and his encouragement.
Friday, February 15, 2013
Speak up! Proverbs 31:8
"Speak up for those who cannot speak for themselves, for the rights of all who are destitute." ~Proverbs 31:8
My life is very blessed here in the U.S. I have always had a roof over my head. I've always had food on the table. I've always had enough clothing to keep warm in the winter. And I've known Jesus since I was a child. My parents carefully taught us about God, about what Jesus did for us, and how much He loved us. I've had education (too much, perhaps) and have had jobs to earn money by for the past 16 years.
But my heart breaks. It breaks for those who have none of these things. It breaks for the child whose life has been destroyed by AIDS, or the child who has been sold into slavery by parents desperate to raise enough money for medicine for a sick sibling. It breaks for those dying from preventable and treatable diseases because they don't live near clean water.
My heart didn't always break. At least, not this much.
As a child, I wanted my mom to sponsor a child in Ethiopia, and we did so, but I easily went on with my day without thinking of him. In college, I co-sponsored a little girl in Honduras with a friend, and we enjoyed writing to her and receiving her letters, but my world was not seriously engaged by hers.
But in the past year, my heart is now breaking. It breaks for the little boy we sponsor in Mexico who cannot attend school because he does not have a birth certificate, and so he still cannot read or write at 7 years old. It breaks for the little girl we sponsor in Ghana whose mother works as a chop bar attendant and cares for 5 children on her own. It breaks for the girl for whom I serve as a correspondent sponsor, wondering whether she will be able to make her dreams for the future come true.
The verse that spurs me on, the one that pushes me to write about them and to them every two weeks, and the one that tells me that my heart is breaking for what breaks the heart of God is Proverbs 31:8.
I first noticed it while reading Too Small to Ignore: Why The Least of These Matter Most, by Dr. Wess Stafford (the president of Compassion International). He mentioned the verse in passing early on in the text, and I immediately wrote it down and decided it was my next scripture memory verse. Only later in the text did I learn that this is the verse that is inscribed on the walls at Compassion's headquarters in Colorado.
As soon as I read the words, it was like God whispered to my soul, "See, this is what I want from you. I've given you so much and blessed you so much, you cannot remain silent when others are desperately in need of me. Of food. Of shelter. Of medicine. Of freedom."
And so, I have decided: I will speak up. I will not allow the suffering of others simply be an academic consideration. While I might not be able to travel abroad or work for an organization that specifically meets these needs, I can speak. God has given me a voice and a platform and a passion.
What about you? Will you speak up for those who cannot speak for themselves?
My life is very blessed here in the U.S. I have always had a roof over my head. I've always had food on the table. I've always had enough clothing to keep warm in the winter. And I've known Jesus since I was a child. My parents carefully taught us about God, about what Jesus did for us, and how much He loved us. I've had education (too much, perhaps) and have had jobs to earn money by for the past 16 years.
But my heart breaks. It breaks for those who have none of these things. It breaks for the child whose life has been destroyed by AIDS, or the child who has been sold into slavery by parents desperate to raise enough money for medicine for a sick sibling. It breaks for those dying from preventable and treatable diseases because they don't live near clean water.
My heart didn't always break. At least, not this much.
As a child, I wanted my mom to sponsor a child in Ethiopia, and we did so, but I easily went on with my day without thinking of him. In college, I co-sponsored a little girl in Honduras with a friend, and we enjoyed writing to her and receiving her letters, but my world was not seriously engaged by hers.
But in the past year, my heart is now breaking. It breaks for the little boy we sponsor in Mexico who cannot attend school because he does not have a birth certificate, and so he still cannot read or write at 7 years old. It breaks for the little girl we sponsor in Ghana whose mother works as a chop bar attendant and cares for 5 children on her own. It breaks for the girl for whom I serve as a correspondent sponsor, wondering whether she will be able to make her dreams for the future come true.
The verse that spurs me on, the one that pushes me to write about them and to them every two weeks, and the one that tells me that my heart is breaking for what breaks the heart of God is Proverbs 31:8.
I first noticed it while reading Too Small to Ignore: Why The Least of These Matter Most, by Dr. Wess Stafford (the president of Compassion International). He mentioned the verse in passing early on in the text, and I immediately wrote it down and decided it was my next scripture memory verse. Only later in the text did I learn that this is the verse that is inscribed on the walls at Compassion's headquarters in Colorado.
As soon as I read the words, it was like God whispered to my soul, "See, this is what I want from you. I've given you so much and blessed you so much, you cannot remain silent when others are desperately in need of me. Of food. Of shelter. Of medicine. Of freedom."
And so, I have decided: I will speak up. I will not allow the suffering of others simply be an academic consideration. While I might not be able to travel abroad or work for an organization that specifically meets these needs, I can speak. God has given me a voice and a platform and a passion.
What about you? Will you speak up for those who cannot speak for themselves?
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