My Perplexities. His Light

My Perplexities.  His Light.

“In Your light, we see light.” Psalms 36:9

I couldn’t sleep last night.  I began thinking about my friend’s seemingly fairytale life as her second daughter’s wedding approaches.  Such joy, anticipation, beauty and light exudes from all of them. As is my way, my thoughts turned to my own wedding and all my conflicting emotions surrounding it.  I had a few disappointments with my well laid plans and they have haunted me these 23 years. So, of course, I began dwelling on them, whirling up my dismay in the darkness… until my day’s devotional verse popped in to interrupt my cycle.   I began to mull over Psalms 36:9.

Earlier in the day, I learned that the verse could also be read:  “By Thy light, we see light.” It carries with it the idea of discovering as we seek His light and, then having discovered as we see light; in my mind, the questions brought to God on the front end are satisfied on the back end.   A commentary expanded on it by saying: “As Thou are the Source of light, and all light proceeds from Thee, so we shall be enabled to see light or to see what is true, only as we see it in Thee. (Only) by looking to Thee shall we see light on all those great questions which perplex us… It is not by looking at ourselves… that we can hope to have the questions which perplex us solved.” -A. Barnes

As I considered all these things laying on my back in the darkness, unbidden, my wedding popped back up. God proceeded to take me step by step through that day. His light redeeming my memory of it as my disappointments receded in the brightness. I may not have the keepsakes I thought I longed for from it, but I had an especially fine day filled with fairytale loveliness that I can be proud and blessed by. A 23 year old disappointment that it didn’t occur to me to give to God, graciously soothed away by the light of His presence.

“How great is the love, the Father has lavished on us…!”  I John 3:1. I so love it when God unexpectedly pops in and uses His Word to inform my real life ‘perplexities’. (Check that one off the list!) Truly, even in my dark bedroom, in His light, we see light!    

So Cool!

♥ Anne

January, 2018

Merry Christmas, 2018

Two Thousand Eighteen:

A Series of Unfortunate and, sometimes, Heart Rending Events

      #Life #Fighting for JOY

Let’s see, 2018…

A drunk driver sped down my controlled access cul de sac and crashed in my front yard, effectively taking out our two cars at once; no injuries.

Later, a deer took out our replacement car; no injuries.

June brought the unexpected death of my oldest cousin, stopping me in my tracks.

My dog, then, licked a poison frog and spent a week on death’s door.  Just as he was on the mend, our baseball team of close knit families fell disastrously apart, distressing many a heart in the process.

August brought a season of new beginnings as my youngest began both Middle School and a new baseball team. It has been a volatile transition of angst and fury.

In September, our car was totalled; no injuries, a bittersweet connection of difficulty with gratitude.

In October, Philp and I, on our Harley, were stopped at a crosswalk when a texting driver plowed into us sending me aloft and breaking my clavicle and 5 ribs…  

As I survey the state of my year from my perch here in November, I am amazed.  

When I was well enough to go back to church, I found that my Pastor had begun a new series:  Fighting for Joy, and it summed up my year nicely. It has been a year of an ever progressing volley of  breakage: material, physical, emotional and spiritual, if you will. And with each crisis, it has become ever more evident that Joy is not only worth fighting for, but it is essential.

Joy is, afterall, not a result of circumstances, but rather the result of being held during them by my faithful God. He welcomes me at the very point of my need and  tells me that fighting for Joy simply proves this truth and it propels me as effectively up off the pavement as the driver propelled me onto it. He tells me that it is time to take back our joy. It is time to rejoice in His coming and the hopeful message He brings with Him: We are stronger when we find our strength, not in our circumstances, but in our strengthening connection to God through joy.

May this New Year bring you victory after victory

as you fight for joy in your circumstances.

 DO NOT fear!  

He has overcome the world

so that we need not be overcomed by it.

Loving you,

Anne and boys

November, 2018

“I have told you these things, so that in Me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.”  

John 16:33

 

New Wine

Chandler, AZ  

September 23, 2018

New Wine  *a song by Hillsong Worship*

In the crushing, in the pressing, You are making new wine.

In the soil, I now surrender. You are breaking new ground

So I yield to You and to Your careful hand.

I trust You.  I don’t need to understand

Make me Your vessel, make me an offering, make me whatever You want me to be

I came here with nothing but all You have given me.

Jesus, bring new wine out of me

’cause where there is new wine, there is new power, there is new freedom.

How funny.  As I wrote the title for this, I thought I could have named it “New Whine” but not this time…

This week for the second time in less than a year, we lost the Celestial Blue beast, our Cadillac. This time, however,  it won’t be coming back. The twisting and grinding around an industrial light pole has taken it from us. “Not again”, my heart has been muttering, whine-fully, quietly, beneath my gratitude. Muttering until I stood to sing in church the very next Sunday.

We opened with the above song as my thoughts sling shotted to my Cadi. “In the crushing, in the pressing”, we sang and I could see the blue metal, the paint three quarters around the light pole, the significant crushing and pressing.   I could feel the soil of my discontent just under my gratitude. I began to sense the breaking of new ground as I could see His careful hand allowing the crushing of only the car, the driver unscathed. I could hear His voice in the words, asking me to yield; to trust; to forego understanding and to wait.

Asking me to wait for the new wine that, as He did at the Cana wedding, will be the better wine than all the rest.  His words promising me that in the waiting there is hope because where there is new wine, there is new power and new freedom.

I came here with nothing and You are making me something! Make me a vessel to carry Your hope.  Make my life an offering of gratitude. Make me whatever, whomever, You want me to be even when, especially when, it requires the pressing for new wine; the promise power, freedom. But, above all, Lord, thank you, beyond words for Your careful hand.

*Anne*

Unexpected Healing

 

Unexpected Healing

I received a text on Saturday.  My Sisterhood’s trip to Hawaii had begun, the one I was not going to join…until they sent me a ticket for Sunday…

Moana’s chicken, Heihei, was the first to greet me in Maui as he randomly, unpredictably jutted down the runway to my left. The fresh, ocean breeze washed the airplane sleep from my eyes as I took deep cleansing breaths. This was not where I expected to be this weekend.

This week/summer has been an emotional one with the recent anguish of Zegan’s brush with death; a shake up with our baseball family; the injustice of another; and the irretrievable loss of Marcia…

I was conflicted about dropping everything and joining my Sisterhood in Maui. I sound like a brat, I know, but I am not so pliable anymore.  The journey from impending loss to promise of sudden joy, left me tangled.

A visit with Oswald Chambers’ book, focusing me back on my Savior, began my unwinding.

And then, He gave me that silly erratic chicken. It was as if the chicken embodied the tangle of my summer, and as it ran away, it took my conflicted self with it, making room for the healing to come.

What better place to sort out life, surrounded by my Sisterhood, than this sudden gift of joy: a ticket and promise of paradise.

Hello, Maui.

July, 2018

AMRB

 

The Problem with Loss

The Problem with Unexpected Loss

“Through the eyes of men, there is so much we have lost..”   L.Daigle

The problem with loss is that we see and judge it through our human eyes. We then seek and demand answers from God using those human eyes.

What if we judged God not by what our circumstances were but by His eternal attributes: Who we know Him to be?

What if we started with God’s character and worked back from there?

God is always good, ever loving, faithful, true, just… therefore, when difficult challenges come it isn’t a lack of God’s goodness,  love, faithfulness, truth or justice but rather a lack of our perspective or understanding of the immensity of God’s ways. What if we allowed the possibility that we might lack the depth of vision that God has? Surely it is better to believe a God Whose knowledge is far above our own instead of a god who is as impotent and acts according to our fears and lack of vision.

It is not so much a question of why God would do/allow this but rather a trusting that His goodness, love, faithfulness, truth and justice will be accomplished despite the horror of this challenge.

God did not ‘take’ Marcia but He did receive her. And though it may seem unjust and inconceivable to me, that is not Who my God is so there must be another answer that I cannot see.  

There’s a song by Amy Grant that carries me through my losses. She sings: “Somewhere down the road, there will be answers to my questions. Somewhere down the road though I cannot see it now. Somewhere down the road there will be mighty arms reaching for me and they will hold the answers at the end of the road.”

God does not let me down during my storms. He offers me Himself, the strength to trust, the freedom to grieve and the assurance there will be answers that I cannot see right now.

Isn’t far more likely a deficit in me and not in God? My inability to see/ understand rather than God’s inability to act appropriately according to what I would prefer?

It is too easy to blame God because the world is broken and far harder to trust He will make a way when we see no way with our human vision.

If God is Who He says He is, then He’s got this. My job is to trust that He does even when I cannot conceive of the how or why.

We truly do not know Who He is, the depth of His vision and grace, His powerful love and ……. Justice.  Though we cannot see it now… He is all of Who He says He is and more.

Through the eyes of man there is so much we have lost… But through the eyes of God… we can trust in the hope He promises.

June, 2018

AMRB

The Crying world in Marcia-less Missouri

The Crying World

In Marcia-less Missouri

June, 2018

It is a drizzly, rainy day with distant rumblings of thunder. The greyness hangs heavy as if it is inexorably connected to the oppressing humidity. My lungs feel its presence and I remind myself to breathe deeply.

Arizonans typically revel in the washed, clean, freshness of rain but today I’d rather cry with the world. The oppressing loss of my cousin friend being worn by the world in the sometimes drenching, sometimes pitter patting with rumbles of deepness being expressed.

I sit still in the green lushness of the backyard forest and allow the drip-drip-pour to soothe my weary wanderings.  Grief is a process as the rains reminds me.

Later, It is a process, I find,  that does not spill from my eyes until I am sitting in the St. Louis airport on my way home.

I hadn’t actually cried, I realize. My tears ever present yet not unleashed; being always distracted from the shed.  It is an unexpected kindness by Erin, a Southwest employee, that unleashes the damn, (pun intended) connecting me to my gratitude and loss.

It is the one thing about grief that is freeing; the world gives you permission to weep and be exactly who you are in the moments that follow loss.

Marcia, you are my treasure and I miss you.

June, 13, 2018

AMRB

Redeeming the Moments

Redeeming the Moments

As I stand at work making another bed, I am cranky as I often am when I start at 0615.  My fatigue creeps into my attitude and my self talk deteriorates into complaining. I stop myself in my track, more of a rut really and declare that is not who I am, a tired complainer? No more!.  And so, I decide to redeem the moment with a line from a favorite e.e. Cummings poem: “Thank you, God, for this most amazing day!” As I shout it within, my fatigue and negativity are silenced. It becomes my bed making mantra.

I am given many more opportunities to redeem the moments that day but none more powerful than this:

Early in my shift, a patient shared her outrageous story with me. Her Primary Provider’s Medical Assistant had called and told her flat out that she had cancer and needed to come in.  This, of course, devastated her and she went right in. Her provider, then, without a preamble, bluntly told her the same thing. It was the patient who needed to point out that the test results clearly said that she MIGHT have cancer and that further testing was needed.  She had come to us for that testing and left us with a clean bill of health: NO cancer. She was crying when she told me; so much relief falling from her eyes.

It was shocking to me that a caregiver could be so disconnected, uncompassionately clinical and wrong!  I felt her outrage.

Later, with the last patient of my long day, a similar outrage overtook me.  Our doctor had found what most likely would be a malignant tumor. Further testing would be needed.  My doc wrote this in his discharge instructions but did not tell her. He left that to me. I couldn’t not tell her and send her home to read the words for herself in isolation; that would be as outrageous as my morning patient’s story.

So I used my experience with the first to inform my thinking with the last.  I came alongside her, softly holding her hand, listening to her every question, affirming her strength of character, trying to be clear.  And I prayed that I would be enough.

She called me the next day at work.  She repeatedly mentioned my words to her.  How they had helped her to stay calm and seek out her support systems.  How she didn’t want to die but would use my words to keep herself fighting…

I stood amazed, mouth open.  How incredible is my God that He should use an outrageous patient story in the morning to inform my thinking with another in the afternoon.  Redeeming life’s moments. Reconnecting with my God in the moments that threaten to undo me. This is truly our life’s work.

2 Corinthians 10:5  Take every thought captive to honor Jesus.

AMRB

May, 2018

Observations across the Kitchen Table of Loss

Observations across the Kitchen Table of Loss

June 6, 2018

What the HELL!  Have I gone insane?  How insensitive, shortsighted, mind blowingly stupid can I possibly be… completely out of touch with my reality.

The culture of our language is permeated with death references.  It is not until you face a death itself that it becomes so blatantly, horrifically evident.  Such language is so hard to avoid and it creeps in when we least expect it.

Innocently speaking of her housekeeping deficits, one says:  “Well, I guess no one has died because of them.” Innocuous in almost any other setting.

Another remarks, “Well, I guess we won’t starve to death”

There’s discussion about well worn shoes:  “Looks like you’ve worn them to death.”…

But the wingdinging daddy of them all:  Gathering at my cousin’s table, with relatives I don’t know well, I sought to normalize the gathering; to ease the pregnant silences with regular getting to know you conversation.  

“So what kind of medicine do you practice?” I say

Joe replies, “Emergency Medicine.”

I use this as a launching pad to talk about regular things, to put us all at ease, but am quickly aware of my mistake.  Our words devolve into what Emergency Medicine is about… saving lives…

My cousin’s widowed husband is sitting at the table and we are talking about cardiac arrest and CPR!  Truly: OMG! What is wrong with me? What I had intended as polite, ease giving words have made me shockingly aware of my undeniable fallibility.

Perhaps he did not hear them, I hope; perhaps he didn’t understand the implications, I fervently` wish; please, I implore, make it that he is full of grace, knowing, as he does, that  our hearts mean him no harm, I pray.

I am aghast, ashamed, saturated with my own inadequacy, unable  to take back the implications of my words. And I am undone, once again.  

Please, Lord, erase my unintentional mistake. Please, Lord, let me be a comforter, a come-alongsider.  Give my words and actions healing power and forgive me of my ridiculous imperfections…as You do, please empower me, then, to forgive myself.

 

Saying Goodbye too soon

Marcia’s Goodbye

I was at a birthday party when my mom called yesterday.  My breath catches just a moment and my pulse quickens every time I first hear my mom’s voice calling at an unexpected time. Who now? I whisper as my heart closes in on itself.  Many times it is a light call and I begin to breathe again, embarrassed by my conditioned response. This day, my back to the bathroom wall, I slid down into a tight ball on the floor.  Her words inconceivable to me as they have been too many times before in this wretched millenium.

I felt like a character in a horror movie who having just escaped the monster turns a corner to be face to face with it again…

My precious, priceless foundationally essential cousin Marcia, gone in a flash on a Sunday; too soon; too abruptly; too maniacally wrongly.  The tearing of the sacred jaggedly cutting it’s swath across my heart. How can this be? How? How? How?

I fell asleep that night in a numb haze of disbelief and unwilling sorrow.

The next day, I woke up with an unformed song on repeat in my head. I knew the tune but couldn’t quite remember the words.  Google helped and it turned out to be “I AM” by Crowder:

“I am holding onto you. I am holding onto you.  

In the middle of the storm, I am holding onto you.”

“There’s no space that His love can’t reach

There’s no place where we can’t find peace.

There’s no end to amazing grace.

Take me in with Your arms spread wide.

Take me in like an orphan child

Never let go, never leave my side.”

In my sorrow, I was given a song from somewhere in my past, loud and clear to help me navigate in my present.  A gift simply there when I awoke.

The journey of grief is a sticky, painful mess. Death smacks of the wrongness in the world but the sweet gift of a song encouraged and bolstered my quaking self.  I AM is holding onto me in the middle of this storm. The whirling dervishes of my panic are slowing with that truth. Perhaps, now I can begin to do some holding myself.

The Fairyland Convocation


The Fairyland Convocation

 

 

The victory of endurance accomplished yesterday spurs me on to walk amid the wonders of Bryce Canyon’s Fairyland trail.  It is a trail of undeniable delights and the undulating ups and downs of the path.

We begin in the muddy, snow scattered trail above the valley of wonders and I begin with the gratitude.  Gratitude for the richness of the view and company but, also, for a knee, still healing from an injury, yet able to traverse the towering tops of Zion Canyon.  I feel wary but strong and follow our crew into the mud.

 

As I descend, the burn of my lungs yesterday is replaced by the burn in my calves. The sun is up in the valley, warming the juniper and releasing its fresh, well loved smell.  It beckons me downward.  The sky is once again a brilliant blue, the canyon in shades of reds and whites, I revel in the attitude of gratitude that fills my senses with God’s vast display of His handiwork.  I think of Romans 1:19-20, “Since what may be known about God is plain to them because God has made it plain to them. For since the creation of the world God’s invisible qualities: His eternal power and divine nature, have been clearly seen, being understood from what has been made…”  I am more than content as I allow the beauty of this place sink into my bones.

 

There are cathedral walls of narrow rock with random windows worn through by weather, gatherings of  the rich hues of red and yellow pinnacles seemingly calling the congregation of hikers to worship.  These are framed by the sometimes white dotted azure skies of the Southwest that penetrate to my very center.  God’s Word echoing His invisible qualities.  I walk in complete awe and amazement.

 

After several miles, I begin to feel an ache in my good knee.  I am not surprised because of course I have been favoring it.  I stretch and move it to work out the cramping and marvel at the tenacity of the other one.  It soon becomes evident, however, that no amount of stretching is making a difference.  It slows me as each step becomes more tenuous, requiring more and more effort.  Joe finds me a tree root which he manages, with help, to extricate from a withered tree.  It makes a light yet sturdy walking stick and empowers my ascent to the top.  I use the sleeve of my coat to soften the sharpness of its edge and off I go.

 

I send my friends ahead acknowledging that my pace is intolerable to those such as Joe.  They will retrieve the car and meet me at the top.  As my friends disappear beyond my sight so does the sun in its path behind the clouds.  I am left in the silence of the Fairyland.

 

My steps become a burden to me and I must stop every few of them to rest.  When my grip on the walking stick causes my hand to tingle and hurt, I realize my attention has focused away from the wonder and onto the effort it takes to negotiate the pain. I have been trying to will myself up the hill.  It is then I hear the echoes of the canyon calling me to pray, to refocus on He Who sustains me.

 

I am surprised as I look up to the stately sight of the castle like towering parapets.  It is the Fairyland Convocation gathering before me to render wisdom and encouragement for my journey.  They speak together in one booming voice.

“We have called you here today,” the fairyland towers exclaim, “to tell you of God and His glory.”

 

Each grand spire in turn imparting a piece of the story.  Their voices lyrical and melodious yet different from each other.

The first is a soft, giggling whisper, “You would not be here today had not your leg slowed you and called you to prayer.”

The next, an older, deeper resonant bass, “Step by step as endurance forms, you reveal His Glory, evidence of Who God is, within you, put there by God Himself.”  

And then a soft spoken Grandmotherly reminder, “Just as these canyons reveal the magnificent layering of time and beauty so do the steps of your life.”

“Each sometimes painful step, a reminder that the staff you lean upon guides and comforts you on the journey toward the infinite, displayed all around you here,” adds the next with a sturdy, firm authority.

 

“You are not alone though your friends have gone ahead,” says one with a bit of a squeak and is interrupted by another who, with childlike wonder, as if telling a just remembered secret, chimes in, “You are in the very double grip of your God like it says in John 10: 27-30.”

 

The last to speak seems to hush the rest.  “He has made this wondrous place to echo His truths into your heart and mind and soul. These pinnacles, parapets, cathedral walls, and all, are messages to you.”  

 

He pauses and is joined by the others: “God can be known.  He is Infinite: without limit/impossible to measure.  He is Eternal: existing without beginning or end.  He is Incomprehensible and though He cannot be fully known, still He seeks to be known.  He transcends all space, filling all space with His entire being:  His goodness, love, power, grace and kindness.”  “Look to the hills from whence comes your Help,  for He is calling out to you this very moment.”

 

As they fall silent, their message reverberating in the canyon, I feel the words of the Psalmist emerge within me.  How can this be true? How is it that this great place saturated with  beauty, majesty and immensity,  where I am small and hobbling, no more than speck in the canyon,  unseen from the heights, how is it that these walls talk to me?

 

My answer begins as a low hum, all around me but crescendos, building in intensity until its melody is clear and resonant.  It is the Fairyland Convocation singing: 

“To God be the glory, great things He hath done,

So loved He the world that He gave us His Son,

Who yielded His life our redemption to win,

And opened the life-gate that all may go in.

Come to the Father, through Jesus, His Son

and give Him the glory great things He has done.”



Ahh, I say with understanding is the love of Jesus which compels the rocks to sing.  Some do not hear them, others refuse to recieve their message but for some, small and hobbling, His message among the rocks is loud and beautiful.

 

He is mindful of me because He wants to be.  He wants to be known by me and though God cannot be fully known, still His truest desire is to be known.  He has gone to great lengths to get my attention.  He wants your attention too.  Will you choose to hear Him?