Ode to a Friend

I have a new friend in my life and she is already so, so precious to me. We had shared a few short conversations over the past several years, but this year all that changed. We became more intimately involved in each other’s lives as a result of a shared experience – one that I had gone through and one that she is currently going through. Conversation after conversation took place and wondrously, we began to see that we had so much more in common than our trials.

Though we are alike in many ways, there is a distinct difference between us. She has the gift of mercy and I have the gift of prophecy. As a result, we see many situations from different perspectives. I will be quick to speak truth and she will just as quickly extend mercy. I am not saying that she doesn’t speak truth and I don’t extend mercy, but I am saying that these are our first response reactions. The difference is so apparent at times that we laugh out loud, finding humor in it. The thing we both share that helps balance out both our gifts is our desire to do all things in love.

A couple of Sundays ago, I was sitting beside this friend in church when a revelation hit my heart like a beautiful, energizing bolt of lighting. I turned to her and said, “I have to tell you something.” The power of the revelation was so strong that it took me a minute to be able to speak. Finally, I said, “You are a gift to me. You are going to teach me how to love fearlessly. ” We shared a special moment and then went our own ways. A short time later, I got a phone call from her and she said with excitement in her voice, “I know what you are teaching me.” I said, “You do?” She said, “Yes. You are teaching me how to have courageous hope.” How marvelous is this: “Tender Mercy teaching Fearless Love” meets “Lover of Truth teaching Courageous Hope.” What a pair!

I wrote this poem to honor the lovely thing God is doing in my friend and me.

The Meeting of Two Hearts

Tender shoots of Fearless Love

Stretching toward the Light above

The beating wings of a gentle dove

Deliver freedom yet dreamed of

Binding roots of Courageous Hope

Clinging to life’s most grueling slopes

Though in darkness you may grope

In God’s brightness you boldly lope

Here we have two lives intertwined

Connected by Perfect Love divine

Broken bread and poured out wine

Firming your heart, softening mine

After I wrote my poem, I found this amazing verse which sums up my thoughts perfectly.

Psalm 85:10 Mercy and truth have met together; righteousness and peace have kissed each other.

My Burden Carrier

Memoirs #3

The focal point of my yard was not the house, no sir. It was the big tree just to the left of the front door. Out of its side ran a low, long limb, a strong arm just waiting to be used, daring me to take it on. “Look at me,” it said, “strong and able, so do what you will with me.” I accepted the challenge by using it to put up a swing made of old rope with a piece of scrap wood for a seat.“There, “ I said, “Can you handle that?” It replied “Yes, and more,” for which I was grateful because I had more to give. Over the years, not only did that swing bear my weight, it also bore the weight of the things I was carrying inside me. Secrets. Dark secrets. Heavy secrets. 

It was a grand tree and a loyal friend, one that I would leave behind when the time was right. I saw the tree many years later, after making my great escape, and I was heart broken to see how ravaged and tired it looked. Did my secrets do that? Did my burdens zap the life right out of my friend? I imagined myself tying a yellow ribbon around its base and telling it to die and find peace, that it isn’t needed any more, that I am okay. Let go. I did. All is well now.

Then I think, why would I want a faithful friend to die? Why not encourage it to use its roots to go deep in search of living water that it could use to create the strength and vitality of new life? It’s there, waiting to be tapped into, waiting to rush up its trunk and into it branches, giving it the power to stretch and reach into the sky as far as it dares - into the hope and promise of a new day.

It worked for me - Living Water. Shouldn't I offer the same hope to my withering, dried up friend? Shouldn't I introduce it to my new burden carrier? One that never grows weary or tired. One that can carry the burdens of the whole world with strength to spare.

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.