Good Medicine

Most of us have heard that laughter is good medicine. Well, it’s true. Last night I heard my daughter’s voice faintly through the wall that separates our bedrooms. She was calling for me. When I went into her room, she said, “Mommy, I can’t breathe.” Because of some other very recent experiences, I knew immediately that she was having an anxiety attack. From what I can glean from her experiences, an anxiety attack is a horrible thing to experience – difficulty breathing, chest pains, nausea, sweats and chills at the same time, etc. Watching my daughter try to catch her breath while looking at me with frantic eyes was gut wrenching to say the least. 


I got her started on some deep breathing exercises and calmed her by rubbing her forehead and speaking words of comfort that I have had to say all too often lately, “It will be alright. It will pass soon. I will stay with you.”  We tried to get on the internet to see if we could Google ways to stop an anxiety attack, but our internet connection would not work. She said, “What a time for the internet not to work.” I agreed. However, she remembered some videos she had made with her two best friends on Photo Booth and wanted to watch those instead. 

Photo Booth Shot

If you have the Photo Booth program, you have probably figured out that you can change the settings to do weird things to the images. We watched clip after clip of her and her friends being silly and using the settings to make some very strange and funny faces. We laughed and laughed. Okay, I did most of the laughing and she laughed at me laughing so hard. I had tears coming down my face. Within a few minutes, I heard some very beautiful words, “Mommy, I can breathe again.” We were searching for a remedy and we found one. We were looking for answers from an external source, when the answer was right there within us – LAUGHTER!


I would like to say that I went back to bed with complete peace of mind, especially after praying fervently for God to comfort her in my absence, but I didn’t. I worried that she might have another attack and I wouldn’t hear her calling me. I worried that it was really a heart attack and she would die because I didn’t take her to the doctor. Are there any other parents out there that have these thoughts when your child is very sick?  I had to practice my own deep breathing and relaxation exercises - praying and trusting in God’s good care.  


Well, I made it until about 5 a.m. before I did "the test.” I call it that for lack of a better title. I went into her room as quiet as I could and stood over her bed to see if she was breathing. There. I admit it. When either of my children are sick, I often check their breathing. In this particular instance, I couldn’t see my precious girl very well in the dark and I didn’t want to touch her chest because I didn’t want to startle her and bring on a heart attack for sure. As I hovered, waiting, staring intently at her little body, she sighed and rolled over onto her side. I sighed too. 


Some may say that I did not trust that my prayers would be answered and maybe this is so. Regardless, I would like to think that God was not interpreting my conduct as an act of distrust, but rather that He felt my mother-love for my child and responded with His own great love and compassion. I would even like to think that He smiled to see my relief.


Laughter, prayers, and a mother’s love – like a spoonful of sugar – sweetens an otherwise unpleasant situation. Don’t you agree?

"A happy heart is good medicine and a cheerful mind works healing, but a broken spirit dries up the bones." Proverbs 17:22 (Amplified Bible)

A Different Kind of Bully

There is a big bully attacking the body and soul of my very, very precious 12 year old. It requires sacrifice after sacrifice from her. “Give me this and this and this,” it greedily demands. She grows weary of the price it exacts from her. She is very long-suffering, but at times, she cries out, “It isn’t fair! Why me? I don’t like it!”

In these moments, my heart grows so heavy it feels like a stone is sitting on my chest. It is hard to bear. I desperately want it removed. Pressure builds behind my eyes as they are assaulted with an onslaught of unshed tears. I hold them back as I look into the pained eyes of my little girl. The corners of my mouth lift into a weak smile and reassuring words flow out. “It will be okay. I love you and others love you and we will be with you through this thing.”  The words are true and easy to speak, but the reason they are being spoken is very distressing. 

You might be thinking at this point that something needs to be done about this terrible harasser.  I agree, but there isn’t a simple solution because her foe is not a person, it is a medical condition.  This particular type of condition is very elusive. The hows and whys of its appearance and subsequent behavior remain a mystery. The kicker is that in most cases, as in hers, the culprit doesn’t appear by itself, but feels the need to bring a couple of other like-minded friends along with it - which is typical of a bully. As we all know, there is strength in numbers, which usually works to one’s advantage, but not in this case.  

Through medication, two out of three of our daughter's attackers have been subdued – not eliminated. The one that remains is a real stinker and is resisting the prescribed treatment. We as a family have had to make some very big temporary adjustments to our day-to-day routines, knowing that there is a possibility that some of these adjustments may become more permanent. As a result, other things have had to shift as well, certain mindsets, expectations, short-term vs. long-term views, to name a few. 

As I rail against this enemy, I have found that my greatest weapon is in the wonderful promises of God, which I happily share with my child. Romans 5:1-5:

 1 Therefore, having been justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ, 2 through whom also we have access by faith into this grace in which we stand, and rejoice in hope of the glory of God. 3 And not only that, but we also glory in tribulations, knowing that tribulation produces perseverance; 4 and perseverance, character; and character, hope. 5 Now hope does not disappoint, because the love of God has been poured out in our hearts by the Holy Spirit who was given to us.

We will get through this trying time. There may be a few more (or a lot more) tears and hurdles that need to be jumped, but in the meantime, we will rejoice in knowing that God is using this circumstance to create and/or refine some very wonderful things in the hearts of our family. If we as parents remain steadfast in God’s love, we will have the awesome privilege of teaching our child at a very young and impressionable age about His great faithfulness. We cling to the indication that things like compassion and empathy for others are being sown into her life now. We expect that sometime in the near future, she will be able to share about her experience, and through her experiential knowledge, bring hope into someone else’s difficult circumstance. 

I love how cathartic writing my feelings down can be. The stone has been lifted from my chest. I sincerely thank you, Lord, for your presence with me tonight and your listening ear.

Is God a Meanie?

Have you ever been mad at God? I have. Over the years, He and I have had a few tussles. They usually involved me wanting Him to rescue a loved one or me out of some kind of pain and suffering and when He didn’t, I would get angry and let Him know about it. Over the last several years, I have let my defenses down; believing that my suffering cup had been filled to capacity. I had survived my own personal childhood trauma and my older daughter and I survived the trauma of divorce and custody battles and the whole family suffered as we watched my younger daughter fight for her life from a condition called “failure to thrive.” These were all incredibly painful ordeals - surely our family would be exempt from any more major trials. I was wrong. My younger daughter had yet one more trial to endure. She was diagnosed with a chronic medical condition that was not life threatening, but it could, and currently was, interfere with quality of life with regard to daily functioning.

My first reaction was to get mad at God. Sort of like, “Are you kidding? Haven’t we been through enough?” I soon realized that getting mad at God was not a very good use of my time. My emotions were getting so high that my self-protecting mechanism kicked in subduing my emotions and allowing my functioning-self to surface. My functioning-self got a lot done. Doctor appointments were made, counsel was sought, school issues were addressed, etc. This was good. It helped me not feel helpless and it was productive. Even though I felt better, I continued to pray to God because in my heart, I knew that He was the only one that could deal with the inner turmoil my daughter was going through from this very public and uncontrollable, outwardly manifesting, disorder. The anger faded and, truthfully, I went a little numb so that I could do the things I needed to do for my daughter.

Finally, after 3 long weeks of an intense situation, things began to rapidly change for the better. God did specific things for my daughter that were so unusual that it was clear to me and others that He was aware and cared about our daughter’s troubles. Here is the odd thing and the confession I want to make. The first night that it became clear that the trial was easing up, I cried. You are probably saying, “What kind of confession is this? Why is this odd? Of course you cried.” The burden our family had been carrying for those several weeks was so heavy that when the lifting came, the whole situation seemed anti-climatic to me. As quick as the trial came, it also left. (Sara is still dealing with a chronic medical issue, but the severity and life-limiting aspect of it is under control at this time.)

As I was laying in bed that first night that I realized things were turning around, out of nowhere, I began to cry. The emotions I had kept at a level that allowed me to function now came to the surface with full force with a little surprise hidden in them. I confessed to my husband that I was having a very awful thought. I was thinking that God was mean. Yes, mean. Literally, I thought it was mean of God to put us through such an intense ordeal just to lift it like it was nothing. I was thinking, “Was that really necessary God?” You might say, “What? You should be glad that it is over.” I was glad, but these were my honest feelings. I had made a promise to myself not to suppress my feelings (something I had been doing for years) and to give them a “voice” when the time was right. It was right.

My husband was so kind when I asked him what he thought about what I said. He said, “I think God can handle that.” Even so, I felt like I needed to ask for forgiveness for having such a ridiculous thought. How I could think God - my heavenly, perfect, Father, whom I loved - could be mean was beyond me; especially when I knew in my heart that it was also impossible.

As I began to pray, if was as if God put up His hand to stop me. I felt His words wash over me telling me that forgiveness was not needed because there was nothing to forgive. “How could that be?” I asked myself. He went on to impress upon me that it wasn’t needed because there was a good reason I felt the way I did. He went on to reveal the source of this line of thinking. He reminded me that, as a child, I had a father who would often threaten my life – literally saying, “I will kill you if you do …. or don't do....” or even worse, he would threaten to kill my mother For me to think that a father, even a heavenly one, could be mean and threatening to me and my loved ones was very understandable in God’s eyes and, therefore, did not require forgiveness. However, it did require healing. A few healing words of Truth from my Father and this incident was put behind us - as far as the east is from the west, but there was one more thing that He wanted to address.

While I was helping my daughter though her trial and enduring the pain of it as only a parent can, my ability to hear God’s voice was nearly impossible. There was a voice that was coming in loud and clear and it was from the enemy. He kept whispering in my ear, “I told you He could not be trusted. I told you He would pull the rug out from under you when you least expected it.” These were familiar lies I had already overcome and I recognized them as such, but the pain remained.

One night during all this turmoil, I was dreaming and a messenger came to me in the dream. His voice was competing with other voices, but I did hear him say the words, “Second Corinthians” several times. When I awoke, I intended to look up the book and see if there was something God wanted to show me. For some reason, a distraction of some sort, I did not follow through. It was a few days after this dream, on a Saturday night, that I made my confession to my husband and to God. The next day in church, as I was listening to the worship music, it occurred to me to look up Second Corinthians. This is what I found:

18 But as surely as God is faithful, our message to you is not “Yes” and “No.” 19 For the Son of God, Jesus Christ, who was preached among you by us—by me and Silas and Timothy—was not “Yes” and “No,” but in him it has always been “Yes.” 20 For no matter how many promises God has made, they are “Yes” in Christ.

This passage may or may not make sense to you, but to me understanding flooded my mind. The message was loud and clear. When the enemy comes and tells me that God is untrustworthy and unfaithful and will not do what he said he would do, it is a lie. The truth is that God does not go back and forth speaking promises and then breaking them. His yes is yes. His promises are sure. I began to ask myself, “What are the promises God has made me?” The first two that came to my mind had nothing to do with specific circumstances, such as promising me earthly riches or perfect health or that a loved one or I would not endure suffering. No, the first two promises I remember God making me are these: “I will never leave you nor forsake you” and “I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.” Overall, God’s promise to me is Himself. The promise is not just a heavenly promise - it is a promise for the here and now as well.

A “meanie” would never make the sacrifices that were necessary so that this promise could be fulfilled. Thank you God for your understanding and your kindness. Thank you that I was not alone in this trial even when I could not hear your voice or feel your presence. My assurance is not found in my senses. My assurance is found in who you are and my promised access to you.

An Early Christmas Present

The Lord gave me an early Christmas present this year - truth wrapped in grace.

In order to understand the magnitude of this gift, I need to share this story.

In June of 2007, I brought my mom from Florida to North Carolina to live with me. She had been battling a terminal illness and had reached a point where she could no longer live alone. I watched my mom silently, she wasn't one to share her feelings, and with much grace accept her fate. She was dying. The healing she, I and others had believed in for so many years (yes, she lived beyond what the doctors had predicted) appeared to be a very distant hope.

I had my mom in my care for 3 days, a hard but beautiful 3 days, before the Lord took her home. Afterwards, I felt traumatized, cheated and slightly betrayed by God. First, we only had 3 days! Second, it was not an easy death, which I felt she deserved given all she had been through in life. Third, God had not fulfilled the practical desires of her heart - things that she had patiently and lovingly been waiting years for Him to do. I confess that though I did feel frustration on behalf of my mom, on a much deeper level, my feelings were revealing something about me. (Stay with me. We will get to the gift soon!)

Here's the kicker - a revelation straight from God. I pitied her. Further revelation - not only did I pity my mom in death, I pitied my mom in life. She had endured so much. She deserved my pity, right? Wrong.

Time to unwrap that gift! There were so many things inside the package - mercy, kindness, forgiveness. Forgiveness, you say? Yes. Forgiveness.

God was offering me the gift of repentance.

(Mom as a teenage mother)

He basically said you pitied your mom when in reality you were the one to be pitied - your unbelief, your fears, your wrong thinking. At that point, He brought the essence of my mother's heart so close to me that I could feel it inside me. It was beautiful! I saw her for who she really was and it was not the weak, watered down version of a childish, naive dreamer that I had imagined.

She was a great adventurer! She hungered for and desired adventure and she had just enough moxie that even in the midst of unyielding circumstances, she believed in the bigness of God for it. Circumstances could not hold her heart captive. It was free to fly before the throne of God with all its petitions.

He liked that. A lot! Even if the details of how she thought the adventure would happen didn't match up with His plan, He so loved her for daring to believe in greatness, in His greatness, and for taking that risk. A great adventure does not come without great risk.

(Mom with the girls prior to her diagnosis)

I repented of all my wrong thinking toward my mom. I felt the warmth of God's acceptance and the balm of His forgiveness as He applied it to this area of my life. I will never see my mother the same again. Praise God! She is no longer an object of pity to me. She is now a person, a spirit, of inspiration!

God went on to share with me that an "adventurous heart" is part of my family's spiritual inheritance. I could either embrace it or struggle against it. It was not going away.

I embrace it and cry out to God for the strength to hold on to it as I stretch toward the bar of faith and belief that my mother set. May the bar grow ever higher and the risks ever greater for your glory and your glory alone Lord. May you bless my family line for generations to come with this adventurous heart. May stories be told throughout all heaven and earth of my family's great and mighty acts of faith. May it be so.

(How's that mom? Am I getting it? Am I on the right path? I have no doubt that in the same spirit of adventure and boldness, you went before the throne of God on my behalf and petitioned Him to to set me free - that I and all your family might benefit from the sharing of this truth - We were created for adventure! Thanks mom. Keep praying for us for the temptations and distractions are many!)

The Joy of Relating

Over the years, the enemy has tried to convince me that I was not loved as a child. I admit that while I was in the midst of my young life, I never consciously thought, "I am not loved." I had a roof over my head, food on my table and clothes on my back. Our family was

"dysfunctional" - functioning incorrectly or abnormally

but we were not without a certain degree of love. What we did lack was an intimate relationship with one another.

"Intimacy generally refers to the feeling of being in a close personal association and belonging together. It is a familiar and very close affective connection with another as a result of entering deeply or closely into relationship through knowledge and experience of the other. Genuine intimacy in human relationships requires dialogue, transparency, vulnerability and reciprocity. As a verb "intimate" means to state or make known."*

Ironically, I recently learned that my top strength (according to this strength finder test I took) is relating. In a nutshell, this strength is described as a "desire to know others and to be known by them" and that a person with this strength is willing to take incredible risk in order for that to happen. This "strength" has been with me all my life. It didn't go away just because I found myself in a family environment that wasn't condusive to it, that didn't recognize it or nurture it.

This is what God showed me this past weekend at my aunt's funeral: I did not give up on searching for people to relate to me in an intimate way when intimacy wasn't possible in my own home. Even as a child, I was determined to exercise this strength. It was part of my spiritual DNA. When I think back to some of the things that I went through as a child, it has become clear to me that the enemy was just as adamant about keeping this strength hidden and ineffective as I was about exercising it!

At the funeral, as I spoke with family members (aunts, uncles, cousins, etc.) , memory after memory surfaced of how so many of them had allowed me into their world and responded to my desire to be known by them and to know them - even if it was in a small way or for a brief time. In the sea of my childhood memories, these memories had not been a priority. How kind, and maybe slightly odd, that the Lord would show me at a funeral, through these memories, how He had been with me all along. Of course, it was this very aunt who had given me my first real opportunity to experience the joy of intimacy within a family - so maybe the setting was not so odd afterall.

God had not abandoned me.

This strength of relating was not some cruel joke on His part. It is His heart's desire too - to know us and be known by us. He would never take such a strength lightly.

He is the capital "R" relater.

He gave His life on a cross so that an intimate, knowing relationship with me - with us - might be possible once again.

In relationships.....

He knows the pain of rejection.

He knows the joy of acceptance.

He knows.

I am very thankful that this strength is irrevocable. It is part of the expression of God's image in me. It is a part of His divine nature (2 Peter 1:3-4) that has been granted to me.

Those days long ago were tough and I fought for every crumb of intimacy/relating that I could get. Now I sit at the King's table and feast on the intimacy we share and I give Him glory and thanks for the relationships I have on earth that are intimate and real. I will always openly and eagerly invite others into this wonderful, yet sometimes risky, world of relating - some will accept, some will decline - but I am secure in the knowledge that even if all others refuse my invitation, God will not.

I rest in the knowledge that it is my privilege and my right as a believer to relate to Father, Son and Holy Spirit for all of eternity - starting now.

What joy! What peace!

* (Wikipedia)

Unfettered!

I learned this past Saturday that my beloved aunt died in her sleep. I say beloved because she wasn't just an aunt to me, she was an aunt-mother-friend. When I was just shy of my 13th birthday, I was sent to her house in Jacksonville, FL, for a visit while my mom worked out a solution to a very serious family situation - one that involved me not being able to live in the same house with her if my step-father also lived there. My summer visit became permanent when my aunt received a call from my mom asking her if she would like a little girl - me. My mom had found her solution to our problems back home. Instead of leaving her husband, she basically gave me away (please know that my mom and I had a very good relationship later in our lives - part of God's miracle of healing). My aunt graciously accepted me into her home, her family and her life. Mind you, I did not know her that well. I saw her only a hand full of times in my 13 years of life, but, for some reason, I had always had a great fondness for her. Now I know why. I was to be her little girl for a season - she already had three grown sons. My aunt was a wonderful, kind, and generous women God used to bring healing into my life. In her care, I experienced family love for the first time.  That love helped me through some really tough transitions and losses. The irony in my relationship with her is that she was the sister of my step-father - the one I could not live with any longer and the one who caused me great pain and sorrow.

This is my Aunt Myrtle many years ago  with her entire family. She is the 4th from the (L). My step-father is the 1st from the (R)

As I was grieving her death today, God began to show me some things. You might think what I am about to say is a little bit bizarre or you could find it enlightening. The Lord revealed to me that my aunt was the last person to die that was directly related to the history of my childhood pain. There were several significant people who contributed to my injuries and several who had a hand in my healing - she was a healer. God also brought to my mind that those who injured me and those that brought me healing are all in heaven together now (each of them being believers at the time of their death - including my step-father). Isn't that something.  The enemy did not win in his attempt to destroy my life and God even made a show of his efforts!

The effect of my past on my life has reached its fullness. It is complete. I will not be able to find my way back there. A path no longer exists. It doesn't mean I won't remember my past. That would be tragic. I want to remember what God has done for me. I guess what I am trying to say is that the past will no longer have any power over me.  I even had a vision of my aunt letting me go like a balloon. I said, "Lord, shouldn't it be me releasing her?" He said, "It is in honoring her role in your life that I am giving her the privilege in death of releasing you into your destiny. Unfettered." Strange, but a true vision. 

Unfettered. 

When I heard the word "unfettered," I began to see an image of a wounded eagle that had been rescued and taken to a place of refuge for care. I then saw that its healing was complete and it was now time for it to return to its natural environment - the one it was created for. I am that eagle. Oh, how I despised the fettering at times. I fought against the hand that cared for me and tended my wounds. I wanted to be free from restraints. I wanted to do the things I was created for now! I did not understand that the battering and wounding that I endured had left me vulnerable, weak and an easy target for the enemy - that what was happening to me in His care - fettering and all - was for my own good and His ultimate purposes. 

Saturday, the Lord undid my fetters. He held up his hand and said "Fly. Catch the wind of my Spirit. Soar. Be all I created you to be."

Isaiah 40:31

but those who hope in the LORD will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint.

I don't know if I have been successful in conveying the spiritual significance of what I am trying to share. I don't even know if I fully understand it yet. Time will tell. As I move forward I feel confident that God will reveal to me where He and I are going and what I am to do. 

I rejoice in the knowledge that my wounds are healed and my chains are gone. I have been set free. I honor my Aunt Myrtle and give thanks to God for her life and give thanks that in her death, she has also been set free from the ties and bindings of this world. She is greatly loved and she will be greatly missed.

The Enemy Within

Betrayed by your own body. 

This is the thought that came to me this morning as I recalled the reason I was up late last night. 

My little girl suffers from a tic disorder, not a blood sucking insect, but a repeated, involuntary movement. It has been under control for some time now, however, it came back with a vengeance last night. She came to me with tears in her eyes and a look of defeat on her face and said, "Mommy, I am so tired, but I can't get to sleep. I have 3 tics going on at the same time and if I try not to do them, it hurts."  "What can I do to help?," I asked. "I don't know," she said, "probably nothing."

Heart breaking words.

I thought about the other people I know whose bodies are not in alignment with their wishes - more than wishes - with their deepest desire and need to be made whole again - to have their bodies and minds restored to God's intended design.

The enemy within. 

Definition: An invisible agent doing its best to make itself known to the world through side effects and symptoms.

What does it look like? Does it have features - bulbous eyes and long, dirty fingernails? Is it slime green or fire engine red? Does it smell like sulfur or decay? Is it calculating or does it just run amuck in a drunken stupor of destruction? Is it a loud mouth or does it do its work ever so quietly. Where did it come from? Was it invited? Did it happen by chance - a cosmically unfortunate luck of the draw?

I know that I am anthropomorphizing sickness and disease (giving it human characteristics), but it seems so much easier to visualize the enemy and the ensuing fight when it has a face -even a made up one. We as humans know how to fight one another - having been doing it successfully for years - and even make believe monsters to some extent, but how do we fight a germ, a cell gone bad, a system out of whack? How do we make things right again when everything we throw at the enemy seems to fail?

I don't have that answer. But I do know this. There is something I can do with the experience of my suffering, of my child's suffering. 

"Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves have received from God. For just as the sufferings of Christ flow over into our lives, so also through Christ our comfort overflows."

2 Corinthians 1:3-5 (NIV)

The truth is that no one is exempt from suffering. Also the truth, the knowledge that when it comes, we can seek comfort from those who have gone through suffering before us. Suffering, sickness, disease are here to stay, but so are hope, compassion and comfort - given to each other as a precious and costly gift, given by God.

"Why do you say, O Jacob,

and complain, O Israel,

"My way is hidden from the LORD;

my cause is disregarded by my God"?

Do you not know? Have you not heard?

The LORD is the everlasting God, 

the Creator of the ends of the earth.

He will not grow tired or weary,

and his understanding no one can fathom.

He gives strength to the weary

and increases the power of the weak.

Even youths grow tired and weary,

and young men stumble and fall;

but those who hope in the LORD

will renew their strength.

They will soar on wings like eagles;

they will run and not grow weary,

they will walk and not be faint."

What did I do for my daughter last night? I sought the Lord out loud so that she could hear my hope in the Lord's ability to help her. I rubbed her forehead with a gentle touch and sang her songs from my childhood. Songs my mom would sing to me, even if the occasion was rare. The power of that comfort remained with me and I gave it to my child. I sang "You are my Sunshine," "Hush, Little Baby" and "Jesus Loves the Little Children" over and over again. She got a small smile on her face and her eyes softened. She settled down and it wasn't long before she was sleeping.

Comfort.

Strength. 

Hope.