Thankful.

Today, I am thankful for so much.

For my husband. He loves me so well. He's not perfect - nobody is. And sometimes, I find myself irrationally angry with him. Sometimes, rationally angry. Sometimes I'm mean. Selfish. Unpleasant. And he loves me all the same. Being married to him, submitting to him, loving him... comes easy. And I am thankful.

For family. Not just "blood" family. But real family. Some of my family actually is related to me. Some of it isn't. A lot of it, actually. At least not in any earthly sense of the word.

For my church. This life is not an easy one to live. Nobody can go through life completely free of trial and pain. None of us are always right (well, I am, but nobody else is). None of us are always prepared for what happens. We all battle pride, dishonesty, selfishness. My husband and I have had our share of trials. Some, we've come out of triumphant. Some, not so much. And this is what I am getting at with this post.

We need other people. Sometimes, we need them to say "Yes, you are right." Sometimes, we need them to say, "No, you are most certainly mistaken." (By the way, I do know that I'm not really always right.) Sometimes, we need someone to look us in the eyes and say "Grow up." Yes, support is good. Necessary. Craved. But as I've been hearing so much lately, "God might just give you what you need, in a package you don't want."

Several weeks ago, I sat next to my husband in my Pastor's office. I was not sure what would happen. There is a battle I've been fighting for as long as I can remember. A battle that I'd given up on yet again. In my weariness, and isolation (self-imposed, mind you), I decided that for a while, maybe I could just get in line with my enemies. Maybe I could rest briefly, blending in with them and no longer trying to fight with anybody. There is a problem with that, though... if you put on the clothing the enemy wears, carry the weapons they use, say the things they say... you are in grave danger of becoming one of them.

Having done those things, having chosen to stop fighting just for a while... I slipped. I fell, hard. When my husband said it was time to go to our Pastor, time to let him help us, I was afraid. Ashamed. Uncertain. I knew he was right, but fear of what that help might entail made disobedience and unsubmission sound so very appealing.

I left the meeting not feeling any better at all. In fact, I felt worse. And as the day went on, tension mounted. I was wrestling with the question my Pastor asked me shortly before we left. "Jenn, when is it going to be enough? When are you going to be done? Where is the line?" When he asked, I felt like I should be saying, "Right now, sir. I am done. The line is drawn, and I'm not going to cross it." But that would have been only true on an emotional level. Deep down... I wasn't done.

To be very transparent... I still am having to fight, to remind myself every day, or every hour... sometimes every moment... that I am done.

But now... unlike every other time I've tried to be finished, I am being held accountable. Just today, we sat for the third time across the desk from someone who loves us. She (not my Pastor, but someone who works in the office) asked me questions I didn't really want to answer. There was plenty of pride-swallowing and a certain desire to stop talking.

But I was held accountable. And I've been shown that I am not walking through any of this alone or unnoticed. I am coming through, some of the dust is starting to settle.

And today... I'd like to ask you if there is something I can pray with and for you about? If so... please let me know. You can use the link over on the right side of this blog, or leave a comment. Comments are hidden until I approve them, and I certainly do not have to publish anything you want kept private. I would be honored to be given the privilege of praying, of caring... of reminding you that God, the Creator of all that is, loves you. Cares for you. Wants to help you. And He notices.

I haven't forgotten.

I know I posted weeks ago. Many weeks. And said that I was working on a series.

I came here tonight to say, I haven't forgotten.

That series in in the making.

To prepare, you might consider reading and re-reading 1 Corinthians 13:4-8. I think you'll be blessed when the series does go up. And I know that you will be blessed reading those verses.

Tonight, I am posting something that has very little to do with that series.

First, a little bit of background. There is a date coming up, a date that has been scaring me. For years. And no, it's not the 31st. Or the 30th. The date itself isn't so important. It's the implications of this date. I have spent a life time dreading it. And that dread, that fear, has had a lot of years to sink its roots down deep. The struggles of the past 18 months or so have amplified that fear until it seemed to have a life all its own. And I let it.

There is someone who has helped me, who has walked beside me over the last 10 months. Someone older, and wiser. This individual seems to constantly be reminding me to "tell myself the truth."

Tonight, there are many things that are techinically true.

My face, hands, and feet have been turning bluish-gray or white off and on all day today. I spent several hours last night laying in bed listening to my pulse pounding in my ear. I just took my pulse, and it is thankfully finally back down where it belongs. Not regular, and little blips of really fast ones. But comfortably slow at 55.

But the truth is, my God is God. Faithful. Dependable. Can never change. His Word stands forever. He is bigger than this. He knows what is wrong, and has already provided the solution.

Another thing that is true is this: in August of 2002, my Pastor at the time sat at a public park with me as I told him what I thought God had said to me. He confirmed it. He gave me an assignment. Said to do it every day. For the rest of my life.

I started strong, and after a few years... well, I let it go.

I have been feeling really convicted about that though. And have been doing it again.

Ephesians 6:10-18, spoken aloud and in the first person. There is a particular section that really got me tonight.

"My struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms. Therefore, I put on the full armor of God, so that when the day of evil comes, I will be able to stand my ground, and after I have done everything, I will stand."

What is supposed to happen on a given day does not matter in light of this verse. Because I can stand in spite of it.

And that, tonight, is something worth meditating on.

Throwing Aside Weights.

Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles, and let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us. Let us fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy set before Him endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God. Consider Him who endured such opposition from sinful men, so that you will not grow weary and lose heart.

In your struggle against sin, you have not yet resisted to the point of shedding your blood. And you have forgotten the word of encouragement that addresses you as children of God:
"My child, do not make light of the Lord's discipline,
and do not lose heart when He rebukes you,
because the Lord disciplines those He loves,
and He punishes everyone He accepts as a child."

This all comes from Hebrews 12.

I have been absent from posting lately. I promise, I am still plugging away at my series of posts.

But for now... for now, I just wanted to share that little bit of God's Word with you. I'll try to get back here and post again this week... and hopefully, the series will be finished by next week.

Psalm 65

Verses 6-8:
You faithfully answer our prayers with awesome deeds,
O God our Savior.
You are the hope of everyone on earth,
even those who sail on distant seas.
You formed the mountains by Your power
and armed Yourself with mighty strength.
You quieted the raging oceans
with their pounding waves
and silenced the shouting of the nations.
Those who live at the ends of the earth
stand in awe of your wonders.
From where the sun rises to where it sets,
You inspire shouts of joy.

Tomatoes, Gray Feet, and Foxes

I have seen all of the above tonight.

A week or two ago, my Grampa's sister Ag and her husband, Paul stopped by our house. Paul is a carpenter and craftsman. He's retired, and health limitations restrict his ability to do what he loves, but he is still what he is. That will never change. They stopped to see the progress on our house. They were in the area because they were searching for some Amish people to by tomatoes from.

Which brings me to finishing work tonight. We have this really sweet, older security guard at work named Charlie. He has a garden. He grew lots of tomatoes and peppers this year. He canned a lot of them. And then was done canning. But there were tomatoes and peppers and such left. SO... he brought them to work to send home with people.

We saw them, and asked how many we could have. We took the whole bag to Ag and Paul's house for them. We got to spend a couple hours with two sweet, sweet people. And eat several very delicious oatmeal chocolate chip cookies. They live in the same neighborhood as my friend Amanda. She had commented earlier that she was pretty sure she saw a fox by her house, but it didn't make sense to her. Well, when we left Ag and Paul's, there was indeed a fox. Sitting in the middle of the road. Just... sitting. It ran away when the headlights hit it. I suspect, therefore, that Amanda really did see that fox she thought she saw.

And lastly? My feet are gray. They have been off and on all day. With my hands. Which is my fault, because I forgot to take both last night's dose and this morning's dose of medication. No fear - it's all in me now and I should be warm and pink again soon enough.

And now, I take my over-tired self to bed.

Seven days, four babies.

A week ago, I learned that a sweet, sweet woman I go to church with was having he second miscarriage. She struggled. Vented a little. Asked for a little advice. I prayed. Did my best to share her burden.

On Thursday, a baby girl named Annette entered her eternity after fighting the same genetic cancer that took her sister Madeline. Her last moments were peaceful, pain free. I have been praying for her. Prayed this last week especially for her parents, and her big brother - he's so young to have to comprehend why his "dinosaur nest" wasn't enough to make his sister better.

That night, another sweet woman who has walked this infertility journey along side me for the last three years, felt her 26 week old daughter, Rachel Marie, kick unusually hard. The next afternoon, an ultrasound confirmed "K.'s" worst fear. She delivered her baby peacefully, silently, and in heart-wrenching sorrow yesterday.

Yesterday, a little girl - a baby, really - turned ten. It was a victory, a mile stone. She has been fighting brain cancer since 2004. I've been following her story, praying for her and her parents, for nearly three years now. This morning, she left this earth and entered her eternal destination. Her mom, her dad, and her little brother were with her. Her last breaths were peaceful. Pain free. Without fear.

And so, it would seem tonight that my heart is somehow heavy.

Please, please pray for these mommies and daddies. We are not supposed to bury our children. Parents are not supposed to hold their child's hand as he or she breathes that last, quiet breath. Caskets aren't supposed to be tiny. Tenth birthdays shouldn't be the final milestone in any one's life.

Tonight, that's all.

Prayers, Please.

Tonight, I am asking for your prayers. Not for myself, but for a "friend." Her name is Katinah. I know her through a forum - a relatively small, tight-knit group of us ladies who were brought together over three years ago in a quest for comraderie as we battled infertility.

24 weeks ago, Katinah's long-awaited little girl was conceived. Less than 26 hours ago, Katinah's little girl stepped into eternity. She is very much broken right now. I can only imagine the questions - why, how, and what next?

I don't have any further details at this point. But I am asking you to pray. Pray that she would know the comfort that only He brings. That she would know peace, even if nobody can determine the answers to her questions. That she would know she is so very loved. That she would see that she is not walking this road with nobody beside her.

I Guess This Is Good-Bye.

We've known eachother only a few short weeks. But in that time, we've become well aquainted. I've gotten used to your presence - so much so that when you "speak" to me, I don't even notice.

But today is good bye.

No more holding out a handful of your leads, while silently repeating to myself "Smoke over fire, righty-whitey."

No more sticky patches, threatening to remove my skin when I want to remove them. No more white to compare the gray or blueness of my skin to. I was really quite happy with my previous perception, and could have done without your wake-up call.

As for your metal clip... no longer will it warm itself in the flesh of my back. There will be no more mornings spending several minutes discovering what part of me this clip has attacked while I slept. It will be strange, for sure, but I am fairly certain that I will find a way to adjust and sleep without you.

And your voice? It may well be generated by the smallest of speakers, but it has a certain quality that really grates. You should get your last statements made, because Friday is your last day with me. I shall be returning you to your black, plastic prison and shipping you off to your maker. I suspect you'll be forced into silence for quite some time.

And finally, I come to your button. This button looks so innocent. When we first met, I questioned the ability of this button to do anything of use. I wondered that something so small and innocuous could be counted on to record anything of value. Imagine my suprise when this little button triggered urgent calls from my doctor, unscheduled visits with the cardiologist, and a significant increase in medication. Not to mention the tests, and maybe future procedures.

And so I bid you farewell. Have a safe trip, Mr. E.M. I hope we never meet again.

Sleepless Nights.

Tonight, I am not asleep. But I could be. Nothing is stopping me.

Here's the thing, though. I have something on my heart. Something that is pertinent to today's date.

There are many who will not sleep tonight.

Children huddled in the corner of a dark room, listening to the sounds of war.

Mothers with aching arms, longing for one last chance to hold that precious son or daughter.

Wives without husbands, husbands without wives.

There are those who wait nervously by the phone, hoping that that call will come in. Praying that today is not the day when the news never arrives.

There are some walking quietly through abandoned streets, desperately hoping that if a movement triggers a shot, it will not be a child that dies.

This was true yesterday, and will be true again tomorrow.

Tonight, though, the ones that are heavy on my heart, that have my attention, are those who are remembering. Yes, for me, this day marks the anniversary of a horrible, tragic event. It inspires a certian feeling of vulnerability and a vague sense of loss. But for many, it is the day they said goodbye. I would be willing to bet that there are people all over this country, my homeland, with nothing to hold tonight except a photograph.

And for them, tonight, I am silent. I will not pretend that I understand - I do not and can not. I will not offer up words of encouragement or condolence - words are not adequate, nor would my attempts be helpful. And I will pray. Will you?

In The Eye of the Storm.

Storms - really big ones - have an eye. A place of calm. The wind is still raging all around. The rain is still pouring down and the lightning still flashing. But there, in the eye, is peace. A place where you can breathe, where it is safe for the moment. A chance to relax, let your heart slow down just a little. It doesn't last long, and the other half of the storm is still coming.

Have you ever been there? In that place where just for now, it's okay - even though you know what is about to rush in? Today has sort of been one of those days for me. Everything is okay, for now. I know that tomorrow, things start rolling forward again. There will be things that demand my attention, choices I have to make and sacrifices to be given.

But for now, I am in the eye of the storm. I have time to ponder what is about to come. Time to prepare. A chance to rest and allow the ultimate Healer to do His work in me.

As I do that, there is a question that keeps coming up inside.

"How does this life, this world, fit with the fact that God is love?"

Today, I am quoting a brief passage from a book I am reading. It shared the same title as this post, and is written with far more eloquence than I am capable of. *

The passage is set in Eden, in that garden where we were first created.

Unbound by today, God and the angel walked into the realm of tomorrow.
"There, see the fruit of the seed of choice, both the sweet and the bitter."
The angel gasped at what he saw. Spontaneous love. Voluntary devotion. Chosen tenderness. Never had he seen anything like these. He felt the love of the Adams. He heard the joy of Eve and her daughters. He saw the food and the burdens shared. He absorbed the kindness and marveled at the warmth.

In the book, the angel and God continue to converse. The angel is horrified and repulsed by the rotten hearts, broken promises, and general depravity of man as time passes. God shows him the birth of Jesus. Shows him that horrible cross.

But as he stepped back in time, he heard the cry that he would someday scream: "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?" He wrenched at tomorrow's agony.
The angel spoke again. "It would be less painful ..."
The creator interrupted softly. "But it wouldn't be love."

Have you ever asked yourself why God gave us the choice? Ever wondered how He could allow us the ability to be so cruel, so depraved, so evil? I have.

I still wonder. I still don't really get it. I still find myself wishing that the choice could be removed. I long to be without sin, without malice, without guilt. But that just cannot be. Not here, not on this planet. The choice must exist. It must be made.

With that choice, we have the ability to truly love. When we want to lash out in anger, but choose instead to kneel in prayer, when we speak gently instead of tearing down with harsh words, we are choosing. We are loving. Really loving.

I love the way this chapter ends, and I am going to leave you with a final quote. Because try as I may, I cannot say it better.

But more incredible than the moving of the flesh was the stirring of the spirit. Those who could see the unseen gasped.

But it was the wind who said it first. Perhaps what the star saw that moment is what has made it blink ever since. Maybe it was left to an angel to whisper it:

"It looks like... it appears so much like... it is him!"

The angel wasn't speaking of the face, the features, or the body. He was looking inside - at the soul.

"It's eternal!" gasped another.

Within the man, God had placed a divine seed. A seed of his self. The God of might had created earth's mightiest. The Creator had created, not a creature, but another creator. And the One who had chosen to love had created one who could love in return.

Now it's our choice.

*In the Eye of the Storm, by Max Lucado. Copyright 1991. Published by Thomas Nelson.

The Voice of God.

*From Psalm 29

The voice of the Lord is over the waters;
the God of glory thunders,
the Lord thunders over the mighty waters.
The voice of the Lord is powerful;
the voice of the Lord is majestic.
The voice of the Lord breaks the cedars...
He makes Lebanon skip like a calf,
Sirion like a young wild ox.
The voice of the Lord strikes with flashes of lightning.
The voice of the Lord shakes the desert;
the Lord shakes the desert of Kadesh.
The voice of the Lord twists the oaks
and strips the forests bare.
And in His temple all cry, "Glory!"
The Lord sits enthroned over the flood;
the Lord is enthroned as King forever.
The Lord gives strength to His people;
the Lord blesses His people with peace.

Life has a way of piling up around us. It can be suffocating, overwhelming, terrifying. The cares of this world can grow out of proportion, eclipsing hope and reason. The voices of confusion can drown out every other sound.

During these times, the still, small voice that God often uses can be easy to miss. We try to listen, we try to still our minds and hearts, to quietly wait for Him. And if you are anything like me, it only works some of the time. It is in these times that we so desperately need what this passage speaks of. A voice that thunders, flashes, shakes the very ground on which we stand. We, I, need something louder than the storm, something to awaken sleeping faith and revive dying hope.

I get pictures in my mind when I read passages like this. I have stood on the rocky shoreline, watching a storm split the sky and stir the waters. I have heard His voice, speaking to my heart, while wind and rain carry away the hurt and pain. I've thrown my arms open, inviting Him to shake me to the core and change everything I am.

Can you see it? Do you know His voice?

Have you laid in your bed, watching the minutes drag by while the doctor's words echo in your mind? Have you felt the peace that comes with His words, washing over you as the first hint of dawn lights the eastern sky? Have you stood in a cemetery, staring at the dark hole into which your loved one is about to be lowered? Have you desperately clung to the hope of glory as your heart broke in pieces? Have you heard Him whisper?

"I have been there."

"I will never leave you."

"I am."

Today, tomorrow, next week, I am seeking His voice. I know it is in Him and through Him that I draw breath, and it is only by His grace that I wake each morning. And I know that if I cannot hear His voice, I cannot go on. So as I wait on Him, as I trust Him, as I listen for His voice, will you do the same?

I don't know what is in your life - it may be the bitter pain of loss, the horror of an abusive past, the snare of offense. Maybe your bank account can't add up to what you owe. Or perhaps you are wondering where you will lie your head tonight - or if your life will end before the day is over. Whatever your situation, whatever your hurt... He is with you. He loves you. He will never leave you.

And I pray that in the midst of it all, while the storm rages around you, you would remember His promises. That His peace would still your beating heart and calm your fears. That His whisper would comfort you, that His Spirit would guide you.

That you would hear His voice.

Something Is Missing.

I wrote this last year, for Roy.  This year, my heart goes out for him and his family, but I am finding myself lacking words... unable to express what I want to say.  So I am reposting what I wrote last year.

Do you ever wake up, and just know that something isn't right? That something is missing?

I do.

This morning, I can think of quite a few people who woke up and felt like something was missing. An entire family. Today marks the day.

The day that Carmen began going through life as a widow.

The day that Austin, Angelina, and Garrett began to learn what it was to be without an earthly father.

The day when Eric, Karl, Roger, Judith, and Marilyn became part of a group of five - not six.

The day when Toni, Iris, Amber, Craig, and Ivin stood with their spouses, grieving for them and aching with the absence of their brother in law.

The day when so many children had to learn how to go through life without their uncle.

The day when Jim and Rachel learned what it is to have a part of them step into eternity too soon.

The day when my husband and I received a phone call that ended our vacation and triggered a grueling, fast-paced trip halfway across the country to go and be with our family.

But it was also a day of rejoicing.

The day that Roy threw off all weights. No more sorrow. No more grief. No more pain. No anger. No bitterness.

The day that he became completely and utterly whole. The day he was perfected.

The day when, for the very first time, his sweet daughter Natalie ran to him and leaped into his arms. And when for the very first time, he held his little girl without the unspeakable heartache that a father endures as his child fights for life, and then steps into eternity to receive healing in heaven.

You see, three years ago today, Roy stepped into eternity. He left behind so many who loved him. An accident - a tragic, unexpected accident.

It was absolutely heart-wrenching for so many... his wife, his children, his brothers and sisters, his nieces and nephews... and so many more. Some people have a "family" that is composed of only those related by blood or by law. Roy had a family like that - a very large one. But that was only a part of his family. Roy was one of those people with a heart that couldn't seem to find enough outlets into which to pour love. A quick smile, a light-hearted optimism, and generosity made him so much more than a "friend" or an "acquaintance" to many.

When asked why we were in such a hurry to get home, my husband and I had only one answer - our brother died.

Today, I can honestly say that this post is not about me. It's not about my husband. It's about part of our family. We may not be related by any law, and there may not be any common blood between us, but they are family.

And today, they are hurting. There is something about an anniversary like this that can make everything seem so fresh, so raw. When a life is ended prematurely and abruptly, the day gets burned indelibly into your mind.

Today, they are on my mind. I suspect that every where they go, they catch glimpses of his face in the crowd. His laugh probably echoes in their minds, their dreams. I look at members of his family, and sometimes do a double take. I wonder if they do, too?

So today, I am choosing to share their burden, just a little. I am choosing to miss Roy. I am choosing to let his laugh, his voice echo in my mind, and to see his face. I am choosing to remember his eyes, his hands, his walk. I am letting memories of him playing with his children and of the look in his eyes as he looked at his wife play through my head. I am feeling just a hint of the ache as they remember far more than I could know or write about.

And lastly, I am rejoicing that there will be a day when I see him yet again. A day when I too will step into my eternal home. When at last, I will be as whole, as complete, and as free as he is. And I am saying "Happy heaven day, Roy" - for indeed, this is a painful day for those of us left here, but for him, two years ago today was the best day of his life.

SVT? Not SVT? IST? Who knows...

So. Last week, after a flurry of phone calls from my regular doctor, and a subsequent trip to the cardiologist, I was informed that I had SVT. That I would need to either be on a lot of meds for the rest of my life, or have an ablation to treat it. I was told I would be seeing the electrophysiologist from across the state, and he would schedule an electrophysiology study and ablation.

I saw him yesterday.

He said it is not SVT at all. But merely an "inappropriate" sinus tachycardia. Which is not all that serious. Can't be treated by ablation, as that would entail destroying the entire SA node. Can be managed with medication if I want to, otherwise it can be ignored.

Both physicians are 100% sure in their diagnosis. The first has a bit more credibility in my eyes, simply because he actually showed me the test strips that he felt demonstrated SVT. Having looked at them, and looked at sample strips of other patients with SVT, I agree - they look exactly the same. The symptoms I've been fighting for years off and on, and nearly constantly since some time last summer, definitely line up. Right on down to the dusky grayish-purplish-blue hue that my hands and feet and lips take on when whatever is happening, is happening. My feet are actually that color right now. So it really could be SVT. Maybe.

The second doctor, who's opinion I would prefer to believe, says that it's not SVT at all. He thinks I've just got a slightly rogue SA node, which sends out signals way too frequently, causing my heart to beat absurdly fast. But normally. And if he is right, then there is absolutely nothing I need to do. So, if I want him to be right, and if I would prefer to not have an ablation, or EP study, or any of that, then why don't I grab onto his diagnosis?

He provided that diagnosis while staring at the 12-lead EKG he'd just done. While my heart was beating 60 beats per minute. With plenty of medication coursing through my body. He then fanned through the stack of event monitor strips, and commented under his breath, "that one's really fast... hmm..." Which leads me to believe that perhaps he hadn't had a chance to review any of the previous test results. And maybe his diagnosis was based on his own hurried history taking.

Or, maybe he's right. And maybe an EP and ablation would just cause a bunch of useless pain. Maybe it really is just IST. And maybe that really could explain and account for the purple-gray-blue color, heart rate over 200. Maybe.

Or maybe they are both wrong.

To be truthful, I covet your prayers right now. The increase in meds has gotten things under control. I can't take this much for too long (some of the side effects are more than a little unpleasant), but for now, it's okay. It buys time to figure out where we go from here. Do we seek a third opinion? Do we pick one of the doctors to believe? How do we choose? Why have things snowballed since last spring? Why has that snowball effect gotten even more dramatic since May of this year?

I couldn't say. But one thing I can say: My God, He is God. The faithful God, Who shows mercy and keeps his covenant to 1000 generations. It is in Him that my trust and my hope are found. And it is He Who is ultimately in charge. And it is He Who is more than able.

SVT. And This Post Has Nothing To Do With Stellan.

So, once upon a time, I was 14. It had been a rough week, involving some pretty intense emotional issues and surgery on my knee. It was a Saturday, and it felt like my heart was literally about to explode.

Went to the hospital. Received fluids and a medication through an IV. Heart rate slowed down. Doctor's concluded it was an anxiety attack.

Happened a few more times. A couple of them, I passed out in the middle.

As I got older, it started happening more frequently. Instead of once or twice a year, it was every couple of months or so.

And then every month.

And then a couple times each month. And then nearly every week. And then often times twice a week.

And now, every day. Sometimes several times.

I brought it up a few months ago with my "temporary" family doctor (my "regular" family doc is still not seeing patients for most things, following his head injury). He kind of dismissed it - I've been struggling in the stress department, and I think we both figured that was it. I didn't go into detail about how long or consistently it's been going on - I just wasn't concerned.

A couple weeks ago I saw him for something that has NOTHING to do with my heart, and he noted that it was going just a little fast - about 120. Nothing too bad, just faster than "normal." I mentioned that it often times went a lot faster than that. He asked how fast. I truthfully told him that 160 wasn't uncommon. He didn't really like that answer. Said he wanted me to wear an event monitor for 30 days and see if we could get some ECG strips of the "abnormal rhythm."

Picked up the event monitor on Wednesday the 19th. First five days or so were great. Day six, I had an "almost event" where I thought it was about to take off, so I pushed record. And it (my pulse) promptly went back down to about 90.

Wednesday of the next week (the 26th), I felt miserable all day. I came home to sleep while my husband went to church. I noticed my heart felt awfully strange - heavy, and very much pounding and feeling kind of "fluttery." Recorded the event, then checked my pulse - 170. So pretty fast. I did what I figured out years ago, by accident. Gave myself a firm massage just under my jawbone. Today I found out that that's actually something that doctors will do with patients to try and slow their pulse down. And of course took the obligatory Metoprolol.

Thursday, I called in the monitor recording from the night before. Guy at the testing center was pretty concerned, said he'd send it to my doctor right away. I figured nothing would come of it. Ten minutes later, we were on our way to a funeral, and the phone rang. My doctor, calling to say he got the test results. Needed me to check my pulse right then. Lots of questions about how I was feeling. Suggested that I should really come in so he could evaluate. Decided not to do so, provided I was willing to come in the next day (Friday the 28th) if the fast heart rate came back at all. That was easy to agree to.

Well, it came back. Got a phone call from my doctor about 20 minutes after I sent the recording off. More questions. Had me take another Metoprolol, said I needed to see cardiology right then - that it was medically necessary.

I ended up leaving work 5.5 hours early to go to the cardiology clinic. Met with the cardiologist. He asked a lot of questions. Informed me he could tell I wasn't a smoker or a drinker. Asked if I wanted to be cured of the problem with my heart. I said yes to that, of course.

He did an exam, talked to me a bit about cholesterol (mine is ridiculously high, and it's not because of a weight issue). His nurse came in. He asked her to schedule an echo for a patient who would need an ablation to treat her SVT. I honestly believed he was talking about some other patient. Especially when he said he wanted a doctor from across the state to come see "her" and do the ablation. I've brought up the rapid pulse so many times before, and every time it's been dismissed as anxiety. There was no way he could be referring to me, and I knew it.

She nodded, and left the room. He then proceeded to show me my ECG strips from the monitoring I've done. I was honestly expecting to see just a plain old sinus rhythm (normal, healthy, and good) that was chugging along more quickly than normal. I was prepared to maybe see a couple blips of atrial fibrillation, since it seems to run in our family. This first picture is a pretty good depiction of what numerous ECG's I've had in the past showed. A nice, normal sinus rhythm of about 60 beats per minute.



And that is what I expected to see.

But, it was not to be. The heart rate on those strips was foreign. I've had lots of ECG's done in my life - each time I had an episode that I told a doctor about, they would do the ECG. Of course, it was always way too late to catch the abnormal rhythm, and they would tell me it must just be anxiety or something. But those strips from the event monitor? They looked like this:



I'm no professional, but I do know that an ECG is supposed to show a P,Q,R,S, and T wave. I also know that my normal resting pulse is between 55 and 65. The test strips proved that my initial statement that my heart sometimes goes up to 160 beats per minute was not quite accurate. During most of the monitors, my pulse was like the picture above - about 180 beats per minute. During some of them, though, it was "well over 200."

I'd like to pretend that I have this great, unshakable, unwavering faith. And I'd like to tell you all that I stayed calm, there was no fear, and I resolved to move forward. But, truth is, I was afraid. As the doctor explained that I was that patient he was talking to his nurse about, that it was me who would be seeing the doctor from across the state next week, and it was my heart that was going to have an ablation, I started to freak out just a bit.

I was a little hard on my husband. I told him what was going on via text message - the reception in the clinic is horrid, and I wasn't sure I could speak coherently. I left the office, and went downstairs for blood work. As soon as I was done in the lab, I found a quiet corner near the skywalk, where the reception was somewhat better. I called one of the sweetest, most level-headed people I know. She got details out of me. Reminded me of Who is really in charge of my life. Prayed with me.

I left, and spoke a bit to my husband on the phone as I drove to our church. One of the office staff was there. She prayed, anointed me with oil. Gave me an amazing hug. Instilled and spoke peace. Reminded me that the "SVT" is just a name. And that Jesus is a name above all names.

I would be lying if I told you I am no longer surprised, or that I'm not nervous at all. I am nervous. I don't like what I was told. I want to pretend it isn't so. But even now, with more medication in my system than there has been for a long time, I can feel that something isn't right. With the medicine, it will beat fast for only a minute or two, and then it slows down again to about 60.

And when it's going slow, and I'm blissfully unaware of its presence, it is easy for me to say that my heart is healed. It's easy to believe. It doesn't really require much faith at all. But when it starts to feel strange, and it's hard to count fast enough to calculate a pulse? It's not so easy to believe then. But I am trying. With everything in me.

If you would, can you pray for me this coming week? I've had surgery a lot of times - eight, if you don't include minor things that require only light sedation. I've never been afraid before hand. But this time is different. This is my heart. People don't tend to do well when their heart is damaged. I know that an electrophysiology study (EP Study) is a very low-risk procedure, and I know that ablations usually go very well. And more importantly, I know that my God, He is God. A faithful God, Who keeps His covenant to a thousand generations. Even so, it's taking everything I have to stay focused and grounded, and not give in to the fear that's trying to creep in.

And maybe, if you are taking the time to pray for me, you could pray for a few others as well? My husband - I can only imagine that this had to be as much of a shock to him as it was me. And the doctor who will be doing the EP Study and ablation - first name is Zalmen. I'm not going to give his last name, since I'd like to retain at least some anonymity. If you would pray, I would really appreciate it. I have an echocardiogram on Wednesday morning (I've had lots of these over the years due to a goofy valve), and see the doctor from across the state on Thursday morning.

48 hours.

The last 48 hours have been... full.

First, I want to say a HUGE thank you to my beloved, amazing, best-in-the-world husband. Four years (and one day) ago, he married me. I find myself often asking how it is that I got so blessed, and how it is that he can be so amazing. All the credit goes to my God.

In less happy news, we spent part of our anniversary yesterday at a funeral. Derek's "uncle" Jerry has gone to heaven. Better for him. Worse for us. I didn't know him. I am so thankful that I will eventually have a chance, though.

Finally, there is a medical situation in my life right now that came as a bit of a shock, to say the least. I'm not ready, yet, to share details. It's nothing terrible - in fact, it's curable even. But a shock none the less. By the end of the week I should have more information. I may wait until then to share, or I may share tomorrow or Sunday. We'll just have to way and see I guess. Either way, if you would, can you pray for the doctors? That they'd have wisdom and insight? Tonight, to be totally blunt, I am fighting fear. But for now, I'm going to just leave it at that.

An Explaination.

So, my last post promised that I would begin posting more regularly. 13 days ago. Yikes. I feel compelled to make excuses offer up an explaination. So here you go - a list of reasons I have been on a posting hiatus:

1. Life was getting the best of me.
   Or, to put it more accurately, I was finding myself overwhelmed and struggling to muddle through each day. By the time I came home each night, I was drained.
   
   
2. Refering back to number one, I had nothing left to pour out. I wanted to - wanted to pursue my assignment from the Psalms, wanted to share some of the things that have been rising up within. But there was just an... absence. Of motivation, of strength, of words.
   
3. Embarrasment. Having stepped away from my assignment, and broken my commitment, I was embarrassed to post. Which is silly - this is my blog, and whatever I post or do not post is up to me. And I want it to be "real" - an example of what it's really like to walk this Christian walk. Part of that "reality" is to let you (my readers) see me fail, and then pick myself up and keep going.
   
   
4. Time. I haven't had much of it to spare.
   
   
5. My husband's cat Bayleigh. Pictured over there --> on the right sidebar. Last week Friday (so 8 days ago), she came into the bathroom at about 11:00 PM as I was getting out of the tub, and made it abundantly clear that she was not at all okay. Called her vet, left a message with the answering service. Then called every other vet in the area hoping to find someone who would/could see her.
   
   Took her in at 7:30 the next morning, found out she had a bad bladder infection. They gave her some good drugs, lots of fluids, and informed us that she also had a pyometra (infected uterus) and needed surgery first thing Monday morning. We took her home in between, and babied her.
   
   Surgery Monday went fine, she came home Tuesday, and has been quickly (and sleepily) recovering ever since.
   
   
6. A nasty, nasty computer virus. Yep, somehow, somewhere, I picked one up. In spite of running Norton Antivirus non-stop. Well, non-stop until my subscription expired 12 days ago. Two days before the virus showed up. Entirely coincendental, I'm sure. Or not.
   
   Seriously. It was a real pain to get rid of. First step was to renew my Norton subscription. Which I did. Twice. Whoops. The refund from the second purchase will go through in 5-10 days, or so I was told when I spoke with one of their representatives. I'd like it faster, but I can't complain. It's not like it's their fault I was so impatient that I placed the order twice, convinced the first one didn't go through.
   
   Back to the virus. I was alerted to its presence about a week ago, when a large red circle with an "X" in the middle showed up in my system tray. It kept randomly generating a pop-up informing me that my computer was infected and I should click the link to download removal software. Yep - I got the infamous "Windows 2009 Security Update" virus. Fortunately, I knew better than to click the pop up. I also know enough to disconnect the network cable.
   
   After updating Norton, I realized that his obnoxious little virus prevents Norton from being able to open. Not being very programming-savy, I opened my task list and watched it as I tried opening Norton over and over. I finally noticed that each time, a task would pop up for about 3 seconds, and then disappear, and Norton would quit loading. So I finally got the bright idea to kill that task as soon as it popped up. And viola! Norton loaded.
   
   I figured my problem was resolved. Ran the full scan, which took most of the night (I slept while it worked). The program disappeared from my system tray, the task was gone from the task list. All was well.
   
   Or not. When I restarted my computer, the program promptly reappeared and began incessantly reminding me to download a "removal program." I pulled the network cable again. Looked at my task list - found the tasks that were new (yes, I am enough of a geek to be very familiar with which tasks should be on that list and which ones don't belong). Using my phone (because the computer was not connected), I browsed Microsoft's process library for the tasks in question (braviax.exe).
   
   I was bitterly disappointed less than thrilled with the description on the entry retrieved: "This is a process." Ya think? Very helpful, eh?
   
   I found a techie forum, filled with big words I don't understand, and instructions that were written in some foreign language. Or maybe it really was English, and I'm just not cut out to run with the techies. Either way, the instructions were almost useless. Except the part that listed the two search terms to use when removing the braviax virus from your registry. Which is not something I'd recommend doing if you're not used to checking and editing your registry, since you can totally mess up your computer doing it.
   
   After finding and removing all instances of "braviax" and "cru629" from my registry, I restarted my computer, expecting that dreaded red circle to reappear. It didn't. I re-ran my full system scan - Norton found nothing. I opened internet explorer. Still no sign of it. So I restarted it again. Nope, nada.
   
   I've been waiting for it to reappear for several hours now, and it seems that it's gone for good.
   
   I like winning.

The Post in Which You Are Spared.

So this post is to let you know that you are being spared. Spared from long, drawn out explainations of why this past week has been... hard. To say there has been a lot of up and down would be accurate - the same way that saying the ocean has a lot of water in it is accurate.

It's been full to the brim with secret struggles and uncertainty. Lots of room for questions, lots of time for reflection, and a shortage of answers.

But this post is one in which you are spared.

I am going to simply say, "I appologize for the lack of posts lately. There is a reason - several reasons, in fact. I am okay. I have not forgotten about this blog. I have not forgotten about the Psalms. I have just been... occupied."

And I'm going to tell you that I am sparing you from descriptions and/or pictures that illustrate the reason for the difficulty I've been having with sleep for the past week. I'll leave it at this: somehow, some way, something stumbled upon or through while out on the river has... impacted me. More specifically, impacted my knee and my foot. First suspicion was poison ivy. Now leaning more towards wild parsnip. Or some other plant or chemical or something. I'll leave it at that, and gimp away on my crutches.

Psalm 28.

Psalm 28

(verses 1 and 2)
To you I call, O LORD my Rock;
do not turn a deaf ear to me.
For if you remain silent,
I will be like those who have gone down to the pit.

Hear my cry for mercy
as I call to you for help,
as I lift up my hands
toward your Most Holy Place.

This week, I have fallen short, in so many ways. Some obvious ways - such as reneging on my comitment to not only read a Psalm and study it, looking for emotion therein, but also to post about it daily. Other obvious ways - I am still plugging away at uploading and completing the galleries for the wedding I recently shot. I'm struggling to meet my upgrade goal at work - not that my job demands it, but I set the goal and I really want to meet it.

There are other less visible ways - not being as faithful to pray as I had been, choosing physical comfort over the opportunity to go to church, being short tempered with my husband.

And then there are those areas that are too deep, too significant, and truthfully, too personal to share here. And it is in those ways that I am struggling the most.

So, dear readers... if you would, please pray for me? I know I seem to ask that a lot, and I almost didn't ask now because of it. But I don't want this to be one-sided.

If there is something, anything, that I can be in prayer with and/or for you about, please don't hesitate to contact me. You can leave a comment - they are all "private" unless I choose to publish them, and I promise that any prayer request will NOT be published unless you request it. You can also send me an e-mail, using the link on the right hand side of this blog. I would count it an honor and privelage to pray with you.

That said, I am going to go make supper for my darling, sweet husband. Who happens to have washed our dishes. Nearly all of them. Without being asked. Have I mentioned lately that I adore him? His brownie points account is overflowing right about now...

Emotion. Psalms.

This post is going to be a short one... because the thing that's weighing most heavily on me tonight, the thing that I truly need to write out, may or may not be something that I share here. But, for those who may be following along in the Psalms with me...

Jump ahead to Psalm 18. I'm going to pick it up in the middle, share a few verses, and wrap it up. Meanwhile, if you would, take a minute to head over to Jennifer's blog. Her sweet son, Stellan, is struggling. Fighting for his very life. Please, take a little time out of your day to pray for him, for his parents (Jennifer and Israel), and for his doctors as they prepare for a very risky procedure.

Verses 1-3
I love You, O Lord, my strength.
The Lord is my Rock, my Fortress and my Deliverer;
My God is my Rock in Whom I take refuge.
He is my shield and the horn of my salvation - my stronghold.
I call to the Lord, Who is worthy of praise,
and I am saved from my enemies.

My life has not been what I would call easy. Blessed, for sure. Good, mostly. Amazing, thrilling, exhilarating? At times. But not easy. And yet, through everything... He has been there. In the darkness, in the sadness, in the hurt, He comforted. In the joy, the peace, the beauty, He showed Himself. He truly is my rock and my Deliverer. It is He who has delivered me, and it is He in whom I take refuge.

Verses 4-6
The cords of death entangled me;
the torrents of destruction overwhelmed me.
The cords of the grave coiled around me;
the snares of death confronted me.
In my distress I called to the Lord;
I cried to my God for help.
From His temple He heard my voice;
my cry came before Him, into His ears.

I'm not going to expound on verses four and five. They speak for themselves, and there isn't anything that I would like to say, other than "I get that."

It's verse six I want to talk about. In my distress I called to the Lord; I cried to my God for help. That is the only thing I could do. There wasn't strength for anything else. No earthly way forward. Men (or women) could not help. The battle was not physical, not a flesh-and-blood thing. It was (and is, and will be for the rest of my earthly life) spiritual.

It's hard, truthfully, to cry out to God when it feels like I'm failing. When that insistent little voice whispers "You did this and you never do that. Surely, God can't accept you anymore. You've gone too far, done it one too many times now." When that happens, shame rushes in and confidence is harder to grasp than the wind. It is at that time that I truly feel unworthy. And it at that time that doubt raises its ugly head, blocking my view. And it is hard, so hard, to cry out to God. And yet, it is then that I most desperately need to do just that. And it is then, when I am totally and utterly dependent on His grace, on His mercy, on the sacrifice He made and the sinless life He lived, that He has shown Himself faithful.

He has heard my cry. Not just heard... but really heard. It's not like when a bird outside serenades. When that happens, we hear the song, but we don't really hear it. Am I making sense? God hears us. Not just perceives that we are making noise, but really hears what we say.

Verses 7-18
The earth trembled and quaked,
and the foundations of the mountains shook;
they trembled because He was angry.
Smoke rose from His nostrils;
consuming fire came from His mouth,
burning coals blasted out of it.
He parted the heavens and came down;
dark clouds were under His feet.
He mounted the cherubim and flew;
He soared on the wings of the wind.
He made darkness His covering, His canopy around Him -
the dark rain clouds of the sky.
Out of the brightness of His presence clouds advanced,
with hailstones and bolts of lightning.
The Lord thundered from heaven;
the voice of the Most High resounded.
He shot His arrows and scattered the enemies,
great bolts of lightning and routed them.
The valleys of the sea were exposed
and the foundations of the earth laid bare
at Your rebuke, O Lord,
at the blast of breath from Your nostrils.
He reached down from on high and took hold of me;
He drew me out of deep waters.
He rescued me from my powerful enemy,
from my foes, who were too strong for me.
They confronted me in the day of my disaster,
but the Lord was my support.

This is one of my favorite passages, because of the picture it paints. I don't know about you, but my mind works in pictures. I see the wind, the dark and swirling clouds, the lightning and parting waters. I have stood, arms thrown open wide, as a storm rushed in. I've felt every hair stand at attention in wonder.

And yet... this passage, pales in comparison to the work He has done inside of each person who allows it. It pales in comparison to what He has done in me. For me. I'm not going to draw any more parallels, not going to expound on that thought any further.

I'm ending here, with this statement. This passage, these words recorded for all eternity, bring to mind a few emotions. Awe. Wonder. A sense of being loved. But more than any of that, they bring gratitude. I am so unspeakably grateful for what He has done and Who He is. And for tonight, that is where I am going to close.

In the Meantime...

So, as you have probably noticed, I have taken a couple days off from posting my studies from the Psalms. I have not abandoned it, nor have I abandoned this blog.

But my heart has been heavy with something... other. Something beyond my own "struggles" and my own "journey." I have been looking around myself, at the people I know. And have been struck with the struggles they are going through.

A girl a few years younger than me, desperately seeking love and acceptance. Having not found it where she expected, she's turned against her own body. She's using blades to release her frustrations, and the pain and shame that go with this cutting are stopping her from getting the help she desperately needs.

A woman several years older than I, at the end of her rope. No, not at the end. She reached the end months ago and it's no longer even in sight. A woman who last time we spoke, poured her heart out to me. The depths of anguish in her nearly broke my heart. Her desperate need for belonging, for encouragement. I want to hope for her - she doesn't have any left of her own. Watching her give up is so hard. Trying to find words to comfort her? Impossible.

A family that appears to be "together" and happy that is falling apart.

A young couple with a tiny, tiny son at home. He weighs a mere four pounds, and was born almost two months early because his sweet mommy was too sick to keep him inside any longer.

Some dear friends of ours who are struggling financially, more than my own husband and I ever have.

And these are just the ones who popped quickly into my head. There are more, people that I can't mention here because I want to protect their privacy.

But there is one more that I can mention.

His name is Stellan. He is a beautiful little boy who is right now fighting for his very life. The doctors are doing everything they can. His mommy and daddy (Jennifer and Israel) are praying and watching and holding onto their God with all that is in them. Please, pray with me for this little one. His heart needs to slow down, and it needs to slow down now. Whether this happens by some blatant miracle, or whether the doctors finally find something that works, doesn't matter. For more information, you can go to My Charming Kids.