First Person.

Our Pastor often encourages us to write out scripture in the first person and then read it aloud. Read this with me, not just in your head. Say the words, let them speak to you.

Isaiah 41:9-13
He took me from the ends of the earth, from its fartherst corners He called me. He said, 'You are my servant'; He has chosen me and has not rejected me. So I will not fear, for He is with me; I will not be dismayed, for I AM is my God. He will strengthen me and help me; He will uphold me with His righteous right hand.

All who rage against me will surely be ashamed and disgraced; those who oppose me will be as nothing and perish. Though I search for my enemies, I will not find them. Those who wage war against me will be as nothing at all.

For I AM is the Lord, my God, who takes hold of my right hand and says to me, 'Do not fear; I will help you.'

Isaiah 54:10
Though the mountains be shaken and the hills removed, yet His unfailing love for me will not be shaken, nor His convenant of peace removed, says the Lord, who has compassion on me.

This one, I'm not putting into first person. I'm leaving it as is.
Isaiah 55:6-11
Seek the Lord while He may be found; call on Him while He is near. Let the wicked forsake his way and the evil man his thoughts. Let him turn to the Lord, and He will have mercy on him, and to our God, for He will freely pardon.

"For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways," declares the Lord. "As the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts. As the rain and the snow came down from heaven, and do not return to it without watering the earth and making it bud andflourish, so that it yields seed for the sower and bread for the eater, so is my Word that goes out from my mouth:
It will not return to me empty, but will accomplish what I desire and achieve the purpose for which I sent it."

Upheaval.

The last two weeks have been full of upheaval. So much that has been the same for so long is suddenly changing. We've moved to a temporary apartment. We'll be here for somewhere between 60 and 120 days. The home of my childhood is no longer recognizable as such. Which is good, considering our intentions, but still... I'm feeling less and less compelled to give birth to our own children, and leaning more and more towards abandoning all treatments. Memories I have suppressed for years are coming to the surface, and I'm trying to figure out how they play into today. Then there's job upheaval. And the recent head injury. Current clotting problems. The growing (literally) pain inside that pushes me towards yet another operation.

And yet, it's all relative. When I start thinking about it all, it seems overwhelming. But it's like God hardwired us with a safety switch. One that only allows so much into the conscious thought process at a time. Because really, this doesn't so bad at all. Well, that, and read these verses with me. I love the fact that no matter what else changes, my Bible doesn't. God's Word is immutable, infallible, and utterly dependable.

Jeremiah 29:11-13
"For I know the plans I have for you," declares the Lord, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. Then you will call upon me and come and pray to me, and I will listen to you. You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart."

Philippians 3:7-11
But whatever was to my profit I now consider loss for the sake of Christ. What is more, I consider everything a loss compared to the surpassing greatness of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord, for whose sake I have lost all things. I consider them rubbish, that I may gain Christ and be found in Him, not having a righteousness of my own that comes from the law, but that which is through faith in Christ - the righteousness that comes from God and is by faith. I want to know Christ and the power of his resurrection and the fellowship of sharing in His sufferings, becoming like him in His death, and so, somehow, to attain the resurrection from the dead.

Revelation 22:12,13
"Behold, I am coming soon! My reward is with me, and I will give to everyone according to what he has done. I am the Alpha and the Omega, the First and the Last, the Beginning and the End.

There is peace and comfort in the Bible. There is stability and reliability. Even (and especially in) times of upheaval and uncertainty.

Clean.

Tonight, or rather, this morning, there is one verse I cling to. I won't detail why... it's not relevant to most who might be reading this. The verse is found in John chapter 15.

Verse three says:
Now you are clean through the Word which I have spoken unto you.

Now. I am clean. Through the Word. Which He has already spoken to me. When life gets spiritual, emotional, or figurative dirt on us, it's washed off. Through the Word which He has spoken to us. I need that. I need to be reminded of that. Daily. Because daily, I am in need of not just forgiveness for my sins and shortcomings, but also from the dirt this world gets on me. There's more to it, but I won't share here. It seemed that God directed me to this passage yesterday, when I was seeking comfort in the only sure place - His Word.

Today, Part 2

Part two.

I've been thinking about God's mercy. Because in NO way do I deserve forgiveness. And in no way can I maintain right standing with Him. I screw up more than anybody I know. Probably because, like me, other people do a good job of hiding their screw ups. But I can't hide them from myself. So I see the flaws, the failures, the iniquities. And I hate them.

I usually don't "feel" saved. Sometimes, I don't "feel" anything, really. Sometimes, I don't "feel" like going to church. Or reading my Bible. Or praying. And that bothers me. God is so much better than that. And yet...

His mercy. It's new every morning. And no matter how muc hof a failure I am, no matter how much I mess things up, He's there. Always. He promises to never leave or forsake us. And He never does. Because unlike people, God doesn't lie. Ever. He can't. He won't.

Reality?

Something I wonder today is this:

Is there some way, some concrete method, of determining whether a "memory" is in fact a memory, and not just some strange imagining? If so, how does a person go about doing so? And what of the answer? What if the answer is "yes?" Then what? Does knowing that this memory is indeed factual impact life? Is the impact worth it? Is there a benefit to knowing?

But what if the answer is "no?" Then what? How does a person who "remembers" something so vividly go on to accept that this "memory" is in fact "imagination." Does the fact that their imagination "got away" need to be addressed? And what would inspire one's mind to create such things?

That's what's on my mind at the moment. I'll write more later regarding something that's on my mind regarding God. :)

Boxed Out and Bottled In

Packing is less than fun. I wish that they sold automatic packing devices. Something that would go through my home and box up everything and put nice little labels on. I realize we could hire movers for that, but... some strange human digging through MY stuff? Nuh-uh. NO way NO HOW. Right now I'm staring at my office, which has become a pile of boxes and a generalized heap. I'm boxed out for now, so I thought I'd do my "therapy" for the day and write.

The writing helps. Some people tell me I write well, that the communication is well articulated and personable. Whether that's true or not, it's not the reason I write. I write to share me. And in sharing, there's healing. And there's hope - hope that maybe, as people see me triumphing because of what God has done, they'll see hope for themselves.

The thrust of today's post, though, is bottling things in. I do it. I know I do. I know I shouldn't. And yet... I rarely let all those stupid emotions out. It's not so much out of shame or embarassment, and it's not really out of self-sacrificing for the good of those around me. It's a habit, of sorts. More than that, it's engrained in who I am. I don't know how to NOT be like this. I was learning, way back when before my Gramma was killed. But it was so new and foreign that as soon as the storm rose up in front of me, I reverted. I've spent the last 30 months or so more in survival mode than in "thrival" mode. I'm surviving, for sure. I didn't think I would. Didn't know HOW I would. Didn't know if I even wanted to try. But I am.

My dreams of late have been revealing the extent of my bottling up, though. Last night's dream was unique. I dreamt that I was one of an entire room full of hostages. I dreamt that the hostage taker took a "liking" to me. And while it was unpleasant, I dreamt that I had the compassion to see this man for what he really was - hurting, lost, alone. And out of that compassion, I shared my story with him. My secret story - the details of an early childhood that only one other person on this planet has ever known completely about. I pray that that person has forgotten those days - there is no use in remembering. Only pain. In this dream, sharing that touched the hostage taker. He ended up letting everyone go. We were talking about praying when my alarm went off, so I'm not sure what my brain would have had him to do.

It's interesting... always, at every turn in my life, there has been someone. Someone who loved me. Someone who saw me as special. Someone who was removed from my situation and chose to become part of it. And in this present situation, there's nobody like that. God's given me the strength and provision to be okay without that somebody, but it's certainly uncharted territory for me.

Back to bottling things in. Bottled in emotions come out whether we want them to or not. If we resist, it starts as little things - back aches, headaches, stomach aches. If we keep it up, we withdraw further. We get angry, sad, hurt. We feel alone. Keep it up even still, and we turn to things that are hurtful and addictive. That's the danger. And when we're "down" the devil lunges. He's not powerful, really, but he has words. And he uses them as weapons against us. He whispers ideas into our heads that we'd never invent on our own. He brings back the same illogical thoughts until they seem to make sense.

If we let it out, we can stop these last things from happening. It's the only way I know of.

I'm beginning to not make sense - this time for physical reasons. I haven't eaten yet. And I'm hungry. And my suguar is low. Which makes it hard to concentrate. Plus, my arm is fascinating to me right now. Have I mentioned yet that it's purple? Yep. Purple. And a bit cold. But actually less painful than it was yesterday. As I said, bottled in emptions have a way of coming out somehow...

Heavy Load.

Right now, I am heavy. In so many ways, in so many areas.

Something is up, physically. And no, I am not pregnant. I wish I was, but I'm not. A myriad of symptoms, neurological, hematological, and musculoskelatal, maybe endocrine. That's as specific as I'll get. The exactness is irrelevant. What's relevant is that I'm fighting fear. And I'm fighting doubt. Both have been trying to creep in. Questions pop into my mind... what if it's _____? Or _____? Or worse yet - what if the stress of life is just making me crazy and my mind is deceiving my body without my consent or knowledge? Anyway... whatever is going on has caused me to gain weight. I've been eating a lot less, working/exercising more, and have gained weight. Which is wierd - I've always had to fight to gain even a pound, and suddenly 14 pounds in less than two weeks? I'm not fat yet... but if this continues, it won't take long.

What else... I've been struggling with our home situation. Not home situation as in my husband beating me or anything of that sort. But our home situation as in we don't have one as of the 31st. We turned in our notice here, which is something I'll get into next paragraph, anticipating that our house would at least be habitable by the end of this month. Nope. Not even close. It's not really anybody's fault, per se. Sure, if we'd all busted butt the last three months to the point of nearly dropping, maybe we'd be a lot closer - but probably still not there. And so we are finding ourselves scheduled for help moving on Sunday. But right now, our only visible option (which isn't even a for sure one) is moving into a tiny, cramped apartment in a run down building in a neighborhood known for drug raids and crime. I know that my God must have something better - but fear we've missed it somehow.

Going back to the turning in our notice... I pressured Derek, saying it was the right and honorable thing to do, so that our landlord would be able to find a tenant without a lot of overlap. He should not have listened - I was wrong. We should have said "We're renovating a house and will be out by the end of this year, and we'll endeavor to be out before winter." Oh how I regret being so pushy - I've gotten our family into a fine pickle.

I've been struggling with my marriage. Not as in I want out or I'm afraid he's unfaithful or anything. But as in "what in the world was he thinking marrying a person like me?" And in spite of wondering that, it bothers me that he hasn't had the look in a long time. I have been trying to go back to being the woman he fell in love with, but... I feel like I'm falling apart, and his dreams are falling apart with me. Does this sound as crazy as I think it does?

Tonight, we had our church's leadership meeting. Pastor was talking about physical pain - and about how it drains a person. Until they feel like they are hanging on by a thread. I look back at the last several months... and there has been increasing physical pain. There has been emotional strain. There has been financial strain. And it's drained me. I was that person he was referring to - at least, I was one of them. He encouraged us, somewhat firmly, to hold on. To keep struggling, keep trying. I need that reminder. It wouldn't be the same cominf from any random person, or for that matter, from any NOT random person in my life.

The final thing that's been bugging me is that I've been considering having surgery. Again. To remove endometriosis. Again. And just considering that makes me feel so faithless, so much like a failure... Jesus bore my sickness and infirmity on the cross. I don't have to. And yet, here I am, considering surgery for a chronic illness, yet again. This month was worse than last month - I'm bleeding more, hurting more.

So for tonight, that's all I've got.

Hope.

Jeremiah 20:11-14
The Message Bible

...I'll show up and take care of you as I promised and bring you back home. I know what I'm doing, but have it all planned out - plans to take care of you, not abandon you, plans to give you the future you hope for. When you call on me, when you come and pray to me, I'll listen. When you come looking for me, you'll find me. Yes, when you get serious about finding me and want it more than anything else, I'll make sure you won't be disappointed. I'll turn things around for you."

For right now, that's all.

Love.

An ocean wide? Maybe so. I don't know - I think it's bigger than all that. God. God is love. If the people I know, who can't even begin to compare to Him, can love the way that they can... how much more He must love.

And that, when I ponder it, overrides everything else. And I couldn't help but consider the words of this song tonight... as we looked at the sky. Something about low, rushing clouds makes the sky seem so much bigger. And God's mercy is even bigger than that.

For now, that's all I'll write.

Wow.

As if things weren't crazy enough...

Our passenger side seat belt is broke. Not sure if I can figure out a way to fix it or not. But that's an incidental...

The crazy thing is this:
This morning, I went to work. My plan, and everyone else's belief, was that I would go in, pick up my work release note allowing me to return to work in HR, take said note to the Occupational Health Clinic, get a quick check, and be sent on my way to work. No such luck. HR sent the note off in interdepartmental mail. No clue where it went. OH couldn't approve me to work without the note. Finally, a copy was found - stating I could return to work following my neuro exam. SO... they sent me to MY clinic, to the neurologist, to beg for a note. I waited two and a half hours, to be brought back by a nurse. Who was just as confused as me. And I am the one with a concussion. :( So, she asked a bunch of questions, did a quick exam, and sent me home to wait for her to call and advise.

Two hours after THAT, I get a call. Based on the scans, the exam, and my answers to questions, I am NOT cleared to work. One more week off. BORING. And frustrating. And totally unfair for my employer. Then, one week of four hour days, provided I am actually feeling better. More phone tag followed this news, and I'm still waiting on my supervisor to acknowledge. AGH!

Overwhelmed...

So today has been significantly overwhelming.

It started this morning when I woke up and realized that we've got less than a month to finish our house. I'm frustrated - it seems our contractor (a.k.a. my father-in-law) doesn't understand that even if it means having to go back and be inconvenienced somewhere down the road, we NEED to get the house done. Because if it isn't done, we're homeless as of July 30th. It continued with the knowledge that if we were to let our cats go - i.e. be adopted out and find new forever homes - it would mean that being without a house could be dealt with for a while. We can live in a tent. I can't stand the thought - we committed to them. And I love them. Especially Furbis. But... I don't see any alternative right now.

Then, we came home from church and I found Furbis in the laundry room, very sick. We took him to the vet, who said it could be a URI, or maybe blood poisoning. She also said that awful word - FIP. :( This has to be turned over to God - I just don't know what else could be done.

Now I'm sitting here, feeling guilty about missing praise and worship service but too worried to leave Furbis alone.

The part of all this that is scary is how hard it is for me to not be offended at a whole lot of people right now. Before we started this project, we asked quite a few people if they'd be willing to help. Almost all of them said yes, and that we could count on it. One couple has been up three times, another once. That's it. So the work has fallen all on us and on our dad. Which is definately not fair to him - he's supposed to be retired. So if you read this and you pray, please pray that I'd stay out of offense. Because no matter what happens, whether we're treated rightly or wrongly, it is still wrong to take offense. It opens the door for a bunch of negative things, plus, it's just plain wrong.

So, in summation: My cat is sick. He'll either get better or he won't, and there's not much we can do about it. Without a tangible miracle, our house won't be ready for us to move into. Meaning whether Furb lives or dies, the others will need to be rehomed, some of our stuff stored, some of it sold or given away, and we'll be in a tent. Because apparently, we need to be out of here by the end of the month because the person interested in renting is about to be evicted from his/her old apartment. We're finding ourselves asking what we did wrong, what we could have changed or done differently, so that we'd have help right now.

There's something else too, but I don't think a blog is the place to write about it. Too public. And it would be too easy for people to find themselves offended. SO... I guess for today, that's all. Just some unloading.

Did I mention my husband had to get stitches in his hand?