Live In The Light

1 John 1:5-10

Here is the message we have heard from Christ and now announce to you: God is light, and in him there is no darkness at all.  So if we say we have fellowship with God, but we continue living in darkness, we are liars and do not follow the truth.  But if we live in the light, as God is in the light, we can share fellowship with each other.  Then the blood of Jesus, God's Son, cleanses us from  every sin.

If we say we have no sin, we are fooling ourselves, and the truth is not in us.  But if we confess our sins, he will forgive our sins, because we can trust God to do what is right.  He will cleanse us from all the wrongs we have done.  If we say we have not sinned, we make God a liar, and we do not accept God's teaching.

(c) Holy Bible, New Century Version, 2005


The word "light" here is used as a symbol of God's goodness or truth.  Darkness would be the opposite - i.e. Satan's evilness and lies.  Living in the light allows us to fellowship with God Himself.  To me, this is mind-blowing.  There is something I can do that puts me in fellowship with the One who created everything.  He is so far beyond anything I can comprehend, and yet He says he'll fellowship with me. 

I encourage you - live in the light.  He gives us grace to do so - you don't have to do it in your own strength.  Trust Him, pray to Him, live according to His word.  It's worth it.

May All Who Come Behind Us Find Us Faithful

When I was a kid, my grandma was in the church choir.  One year, one of the songs they did really stuck with me.  Especially the chorus.  The song is Find Us Faithful, by Steve Green.  The chorus has the following lyrics:

Oh may all who come behind us find us faithful
May the fire of our devotion light their way
May the footprints that we leave
Lead them to believe
And the lives we live inspire them to obey

It is important to me, that when others look at me, they see Him.  I want to reflect His love and live His grace and walk His way.  I fail, often, but I get back up every time.  I have to.  He has done so much for me, and loves me so flawlessly, that I want to do nothing short of my very best.

Life More Abundantly

John 10:10 says, "I have come that they might have life, and life more abundantly."  I have to say, for almost five years, that verse seemed so far away from my reality.  We were struggling financially, struggling with our health, struggling to maintain a marriage when we barely had any time together.  In the middle of it, it all seemed insurmountable.  But now, looking back, I can see so many places where God was working... working on Derek, working on me, working on us.  We have not arrived yet, but we are beginning to see manifestation of God's plan for us.  It is an exciting, beautiful time.  I want to make note of that here, so that in the future, I can look back and say "Yes, I saw the beginnings of this way back then."

New Puppy

My parents have a new puppy.  His name is Hank, and I happen to think he's the cutest thing ever.  He's a mix of Australian Shepherd and Welsh Corgi.  He likes to chew on his pull rope and dig holes in the woods.

I want a puppy.  I have wanted a puppy for the last 16 years.  But I won't be getting one any time soon.  My life style isn't conducive to providing for a puppy.  Someday, I'll get one.  It will be my husband's first time.  I look forward to watching that relationship grow.

In other news, Day Light Savings Time has ended, and it's getting dark way too early now.  I admit, there are times I'm tempted to move south just to get more sunlight.  But we're firmly rooted here.  There's too much we don't want to leave.

Not Ashamed

Psalm 34:1-5, Contemporary English Version:

I will always praise the Lord.  With all my heart, I will praise the Lord.  Let all who are helpless, listen and be glad.  Honor the Lord with me!  Celebrate His great name.  I asked the Lord for help, and he saved me from all my fears.  Keep your eyes on the Lord!  You will shine like the sun and never blush with shame.

 I have led a life that is far from perfect.  I have sinned, sometimes unintentionally, and sometimes deliberately.  I've had experiences that filled me with intense shame.  But even the worst of it all fades away when my eyes are fixed on Him.  When my gaze is steadily on Him, His glory and holiness and the love He has for me over-rides my own perceptions and beliefs, and I see myself as He sees me.  I am redeemed, chosen, called.  I am his child.  And most of all, I am loved.

People can tell when I've got my eyes fixed on Him.  When my attention is on God, and His love for me, my face changes.  During those times, I get told repeatedly by others that I look so good, that they can tell I'm doing well.  When my gaze shifts, and I'm looking at the world or myself, people ask me what's wrong.  It's a spiritual principal with natural, tangible, visible evidence.

Where is your attention?  Where are your eyes fixed?  How can you tell?

I'm Alive

Ephesians 2:1-10, NIV

As for you, you were dead in your transgressions and sins, in which you used to live when you followed the ways of this world and of the ruler of the kingdom of the air, the spirit who is now at work in those who are disobedient.  All of us also lived among them at one time, gratifying the cravings of our sinful nature and following its desires and thoughts.  Like the rest, we were by nature objects of wrath.  But because of His great love for us, God, who is rich in mercy, made us alive with Christ even when we were dead in transgressions - it is by grace you have been saved.  And God raised us up with Christ and seated us with him in the heavenly realms in Christ Jesus, in order that in the coming ages he might show the incomparable riches of his grace, expressed in his kindness to us in Christ Jesus.  For it is by grace you have been saved, through faith - and this not from yourselves, it is the gift of God - not by works, so that no one can boast.  For we are God's workmanship, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do.

This passage means so much to me.  I don't know about anyone else, but I know that I personally slip into legalism sometimes.  I'll do something I shouldn't do, or I'll neglect something I should do, and I'll start to feel un-saved.  It's just a feeling, but I know that if I don't counter it with scripture, it will take root in my heart, invade my thoughts, and if it continued unchecked, I would convince myself I was no longer saved at all.  My salvation causes obedience.  Obedience does not cause my salvation. 

What distortions do you battle in your own life, and what scripture do you use to contradict them?

It's Been A Long Time

It's been well over a year since I last wrote here.  Life has a way of continuing even when all we want is for moments to linger.  So much has happened during these months away, and yet so little has changed.

One thing that has changed is my relationship with my in-laws.  Where it used to be choppy and disconnected, a certain ease and closeness is developing.  I am thankful for that, as they are truly beautiful people.

The PTSD symptoms have faded until recently.  I'm in the middle of some intense stuff.  It's exhausting to struggle this way, but I know that life is worth fighting for.  I have an amazing husband, wonderful friends, a loving church, and a competent therapist to help me through.  Most of all, my God has promised to never leave or forsake me.  And with Him on my side, I can't possibly fail.

I am hoping to get back to regularly updating here, but we will just have to see how it plays out over time.

With Hope

Grief.  That thing we feel when someone dear to us, steps into eternity.  That empty, hollow, overflowing feeling.  The way the world looks gray and dull when picturing it without our loved one there.  Most of us know the ache of waking that first morning, knowing it's your first full day without him or her.  Most of us know what it is to stand there in the cemetery, waiting for them to lower someone precious into the ground for a final time. 

But not all of us know hope.  Not all of us believe in heaven and eternal life.  That is the part I don't understand.  How does a person who has no hope, grieve and then move on?  Where do they draw their strength from?  How do they reconcile the death with the eternal nature of our spirits - something we know deep inside regardless of creed?

I believe in eternity.  I believe in Heaven.  I believe that my daughter and my other children are all there waiting for me.  I believe my Gramma is there, and that as we always talked about when I was growing up, she will meet me at the Eastern Gate.  I believe my great-grandpa Max is there.  My great-uncle Elmer.  My brother.

And it fills me with hope and anticipation.  The day is coming when I'll be reunited with them all, and I will never have to say goodbye again.

So I grieve, but with hope.

Ecclesiastes 3:11 - He has made everything beautiful in its time.  He has also set eternity in the human heart, yet no one can fathom what God has done from beginning to end.

I have often pondered eternity.  In a way, I get it.  It's, like, forever.  It never ends.  It just goes on and on and on... but at the same time, I don't really get it.  How can something simply never cease?  But it's there, in my heart - I "know with my knower" that it's real.

And for today, that is what I am thinking about.  Where will you be spending your eternity?

It's Been Awhile

So, I have been very delinquent in the upkeep of this blog.

Why?

To be honest, I haven't felt like I have anything compelling to share.  But I do miss the writing, so I may just get back into the swing of things - time will tell.

Lately, I've had a barrage of medical problems.  First, a long battle with recurrent infection in my leg, followed by a brief break and then a battle with unexplained weight loss, followed by a bite from a deer tick (which I was unaware of, but I'll get to that in a moment), followed by a bite from a brown recluse spider which turned necrotic and now, two months in, is still healing, followed by waking up one morning with Bell's Palsy, followed by a positive Lyme test (hence knowing I got bit by a deer tick, and the high titer indicates it's been a while).  So now I am on steroids for the Bell's and antibiotics for the Lyme.  I have a 3 inch defect in my leg which is healing daily, but it's still taking it's time.  My right side of my face doesn't work right now - not my mouth, not my eye, not my forehead or my cheek.  I've got my eye taped shut as that's the only way to stop the constant burning and watering.

But in all this?  Yes, in all this, my God is faithful.  He hasn't left me or forsaken me.  He has done much good.  He protected my kidneys in the middle of a systemic reaction to the brown recluse bite.  He is healing the result of that bite quickly.  He kept me from fear when I woke up with half my face not functioning.  He allowed the steroids to work quickly to reduce the pain in the nerves of my face.  He had the doctor test for Lyme disease, of which I've had no other symptoms.  And He will continue to prove Himself faithful - it's how He is.

Deuteronomy 7:9

Know therefore that the Lord your God is God; he is the faithful God, keeping his covenant of love to a thousand generations of those who love him and keep his commandments.

 

Psalm 71:22

I will praise you with the harp for your faithfulness, my God; I will sing praise to you with the lyre, Holy One of Israel

 

Psalm 89:8

Who is like you, Lord God Almighty? You, Lord, are mighty, and your faithfulness surrounds you

 

1 Corinthians 1:9

God is faithful, who has called you into fellowship with his Son, Jesus Christ our Lord.

 

Hebrews 3:6

But Christ is faithful as the Son over God’s house. And we are his house, if indeed we hold firmly to our confidence and the hope in which we glory.

The Better Men

It isn't easy, life.  We struggle and fight for so much, and sometimes it seems worthwhile.  Sometimes it doesn't. 

I'm here to say, fight on. 

This life we lead, the freedom we enjoy, it wasn't cheap.  It didn't come easy... it didn't even come hard.  It came at the highest cost possible - human lives.  Sons and daughters, mothers and fathers, husbands and wives and lovers and friends.   Heroes, all.

I stand free because of them, and for that, I am truly thankful. 

Are you?

In My Dreams

During the day, I miss her.  My Gramma, that is.  I miss her every day.  I miss her when something is beautiful, I miss her when things get ugly.  I miss her when I smile and when I cry, and when I do well and when I fail.  When I feel like I am soaring high and when the weight of the world is crushing me, I miss her.

Growing up, she was part of every day.  Most of what I did, she was there and she was in the middle of.  I never really learned to let go of that.  The last time Derek and I drove away from their home, I said to remember and treasure that image, as it wouldn't last.  I had the idea that something was about to change, but I didn't really know at all.

I never would have guessed she was to be taken so abruptly from this world.  To think that a driver's carelessness would be the thing responsible for such a staggering loss... I just wouldn't have done it.  That's what happens to other people, not to me.  Not to her.  But despite being willing to give up everything to go back and change it somehow, with chilling finality, she was killed that day.

She's not dead though - not spiritually.  I know she lives and is rejoicing and dancing in heaven.  But until I join her there, she's gone from my world.  She can't tell me who to love or what to do or how to be, no matter how desperately I wish for her wisdom. 

But at night when I dream, I don't know that.  When I dream, she is alive and present.  Usually, in the dreams, I know she is dead and I know she can't be there... and yet, there she is.  She laughs and smiles and speaks, and we all act like it's perfectly natural for her to be doing those things.  I wish dream-hugs lasted after waking.  I wish I could retain that sense of wholeness and safety after sleep stops for the day.  Some mornings, I let myself sleep through my alarm just so I can have a little longer with her.

But in my dreams is just that... in my dreams.

The reality of it all is, the pain is real.  The alone is real.  The sadness and the lingering sense of shock and disbelief and the empty feelings... they are all real.  Even more real, though, is the fact that this isn't going to last forever.  I'll see her again, and it will be a forever reunion.  It's going to be the end of the pain, the end of the nightmares, the end of the loneliness.  THAT is the reality I try my hardest to focus on.

And in my dreams... in my dreams, I let myself have a reminder that this situation isn't exactly as it appears.

It Makes Me Ache For Heaven

A lot of the time, I'm really genuinely grateful for my earthly life.  I like it.  It's beautiful.  Some times, my attitude isn't so good.  Always, I know that my life is a gift - as is every life. 

And some lives.... some lives have touched me in a way that makes me ache for heaven.  In a way that changes my decisions because I think, "No, I have to make it.  I have to see this person again."  I know my motivation for following God is supposed to not just be about what I'll get out of it, but if I am being genuinely honest... sometimes, it is.  Sometimes all I have left is what I know will happen when I get where I'm going.

And seeing Jim... means more to me than I'd have ever imagined it would.  It's a big, important deal.  Just having the hope of seeing him again, is enough to change my actions sometimes.  He's not the only person I miss... but today, he is the one I miss the most. 

It's been a year.  It feels like forever has passed and it feels as fresh as if it was yesterday.

Tonight I pause to remember not one of the Better Men, but one of the Best Men.

I am NOT sorry...

So, I hear it all the time.  "I'm sorry, but..." "... I disagree."  "... I don't want to."  Blah blah blah.  I'm sorry but... it is a phrase I have come to truly loathe.

It isn't used as a positive phrase the majority of the time (i.e., I am sorry to have to say this, but your test result came back badly.").  It's just used as an excuse to say things we would not dare say without some sort of get-out-of-jail-free card. 

"I'm sorry but your hair looks really bad."

"I'm sorry, but that's what I want and so that's what I will do."

But the one usage that gets me going... that torques me off and makes me want to scream is this... "I'm sorry, but that's just what I believe."

We need to stand up for our beliefs, not hide behind insincere apologies for them.  I believe in God, Creator God who created all that is and was and will ever be.  I believe His son came to earth in human form, while somehow retaining his God-hood (is that a word?)  I believe he lived a truly sinless life, and was crucified one day when he was about 33 years old.  He didn't stay dead though - three days later He rose and ascended and is seated at the right hand of God the father.  I believe that that sacrifice is what earns me a place in heaven.  I have given my heart and soul to Him,and I believe it is all real.

And I'm not sorry.  I'm not sorry I believe it, not sorry I said it.  I'm not sorry if it offends you and I'm not sorry if you disagree. 

It's Supposed To Hurt

I burned my finger recently.  Was putting in a baking sheet with supper on top, and the front of my finger hit the oven rack.  I heard it go "psssttt" before I felt my hand jerking back (luckily, without the baking sheet full of food).  It's a tiny burn - from my fingernail down to the knuckle, just under half an inch.  And it's just on one finger.

And you know what?  It hurts.  It's distracting.  It makes me feel generally uncomfortable, even though it's just a tiny injury.

That's how our conscience should be.  When we blurt out a bad word, it should sting like this.  It should distract us and bother us.  When we fudge the truth just a little, it should burn.

But our consciences are like my dad's hands.

He is a mechanic (a gifted one, at that), and does a lot of welding and other things that burn his hands.  He doesn't even feel them anymore.  He can have big, angry blisters and not have even noticed they were there until I ask what they are from.  Sometimes, even after he thinks about it, he can't remember. 

We get that way.  We get so used to our little transgressions that we fail to feel the sting. 

The problem with that isn't the absence of pain.  The problem is, when our conscience hurts, we turn to God.  We pray, we repent, we resolve to change for the better.  When that happens, the result is good.  But when we get so accustomed to the little pains, we don't bother turning to him - because we aren't even really aware that anything is wrong at all.

Psalm 139:23-24
God, examine me and know my heart; test me and know my anxious thoughts.  See if there is any bad thing in me.  Lead me on the road to everlasting life.

We have hope though.  No matter how seared our consciences are, God can still search us and show us what we need to see.  The question is, are you (and am I) brave enough to do that?

Your Walk Talks

Growing up, I had an outstanding youth group leader, Mr. Jay.  He had this way about him... we played games and went hiking and had adventures, and we also would sit in the study at the church and discuss the really deep issues in life.  He took a group of kids who would never have been a group by choice, and knitted us together into something beautiful.

One of the things he used to say was this:

"Your walk talks, and your talk talks, but your walk talks louder than your talk talks."

In other words... yeah, what you say matters.  It gets through to people.  But not to nearly the degree that what you DO gets through.

I was laying on the couch this afternoon thinking, and that's what kept coming back to mind.  I know for me personally, my walk and my talk don't always line up.  I send mixed messages, even though I'd rather not. 

What areas of your life do you need to examine and sort out?  What things do you need to answer once and for all, so that your walk and your talk are saying the same thing?  Just one little phrase that stuck in my head (and I'd bet lots of other teenagers heard him say it and let it stick in their heads too), that gets to me every time I let it.

What I Am Proudest Of

This is what I am proudest of.  Out of every thing God has given me the ability to do, everything I have accomplished, every drop of sweat and blood and every tear, nothing has meant as much to me as this. 

When I was twelve, I was just a scrawny, insecure, abused little girl with no hope and no concept of "future."  All I had was the present, and the present was nothing I wanted.  But one afternoon, my dad came home from his new job and handed me a newsletter put out by a local hospital.  He said "read the class list - see if there is anything in there that you would like to do together."  My eyes landed on "Karate for adults and children aged eight and up.  Maximum 25 students."  Dad and I made 23.  All of us white belts, with one lone black belt as the instructor.  That man became first an instructor and then a mentor and then my doctor and then my friend, as years passed.  And it turned out not to be Karate - it was Tae Kwan Do, but with some Judo and Hapkido mixed in. 

At our school, earning a black belt is no easy feat.  It takes years, and it takes everything you have to give - and then more.  At age twelve, I saw that and suddenly, I had something in my future.  Something I wanted - needed even.  Something that I could do. I knew I could.  It literally changed everything about who I was.  Not dramatically, especially at first.  But a subtle shift from hopeless to hopeful, from lost to found, from broken to healed. 

There has not been a day since, that I have questioned whether God used martial arts to save my life.  He did.  He still is. 

And that is why this is what I am proudest of.

P.G. With No Baby

I've been told  many, many times that "whatever is wrong is self inflicted" in reference to my leg.  And I've been assured that it definitely couldn't hurt as much as I say it hurts.  I've been told I'm not sick, that there's no physical reason for the symptoms I battle daily.

But recently, that's all changed.  My doc believes in me and has fought to help me heal, and has endured the highs and lows as my leg gets better and worse unpredictably.  And finally, there's a word for what I am fighting.  Two words, actually.  Pyoderma gangrenosum.  Look it up if you want, but be warned that most articles include graphic and rather unappealing pictures.  Basically, it means my body attacks itself from the inside out (so in that regard, I suppose you could call it self-inflicted).  It favors previously damaged skin, but I have no control over when or where or how badly it will do so.  When it flares, my skin first turns red, then warm and spongy, then blisters, then peels and rapidly erodes  until I have ulcers muscle-deep and usually bigger than a silver dollar.  It is excruciatingly painful - far more so than it should be given the wounds themselves.  It has coupled with a disturbing lack of immune response to allow infection after infection to form, for which I am almost daily at the clinic receiving treatment. 

Now, that said, I'm not trying to whine.  I honestly have a beautiful life, made that way by a faithful God.  It's just that people often wonder what it is that is actually wrong with me - what keeps me so sick so much of the time.  And this is certainly not the only problem, but it is a big one.  One I'll overcome.  And when I do, God will get the glory because it will be by His grace.

Where Honor Lives

July 4th, in our nation, is a special day.

We celebrate freedom.  Families gather, we eat food that tastes yummy but probably isn't so good for us, we spend time laughing and running barefoot through the yard.  Together.  Then we gather to watch various substances that have been crammed into little vessels get flung into the air where they explode in bursts of color and light.

And it's all very nice.

But it's not what is inside me on this day.  Today I don't think about exuberant displays of freedom.  I don't think about living in a country that has so many little "perks" that we are forced to complain about the little stuff because the "big stuff" just isn't a present problem here. 

I think about honor.

In my head, I think about Independence Day when I was maybe ten or twelve.  My best friend and I were with my grandparents on their boat, watching the fireworks display surrounded by other boats as we floated in the Mississippi.  The light and sound from the fireworks was bouncing off the bluffs that surrounded us.  It was loud and bright and you could feel the energy in the air.  Excitement and exhilaration.

I looked down from my perch, with my legs dangling high above the water and my arms resting on the rail around the roof of the boat.  There was a small bass boat tied to our boat - nobody we knew.  But for the first time in the hours we'd spent so close together, I looked at them.  A young boy - maybe five years old.  His little life jacket stood out against the dark floor of the boat where he sat, leaning on the legs of an older man.  He was probably seventy, maybe more.  He wore a navy blue shirt and his gray hair was thinning.  His face had "the look" - you know, the expression that says "I love my life, I love who I am with, and this moment is beautiful" at the same time it says "I have seen and heard and lived through things most of the world can't even imagine.  I have seen the darkest parts of the world."  And I could see in his eyes, that the darkness he had seen was what let him really appreciate the light around him now.

Usually, after the pyrotechnics are completed, it is a rush to get every boat started and compete to be the first to leave that stretch of river.  But before that rush starts, there is always about two minutes of silence, where people are waiting to see if it is really over.  And that night, the silence was pierced after about thirty seconds.  Somewhere in the darkness, on a boat or perhaps standing somewhere on shore, two people had and played bagpipes.  The familiar sound of our national anthem was almost haunting as it rolled and echoed across the water.  Most people silently stayed where they were; unsure whether they should respond or not.  But the old man in the boat next to ours?  He stood tall and straight, his hand raised in a sharp solute, eyes fixed on the flag displayed on the front of our boat.  In that moment, I saw honor alive and well in him.  But it doesn't end there.  The small boy was almost asleep in the bottom of the boat.  He watched the man stand, watched him solute, and struggled to his feet.  He did his best to emulate the man he clearly admired; feet together, knobby little-boy knees straight, shoulders back, and his best attempt at a solute. 

As the anthem faded away, some people started to move.  And then slowly, softly, the first strains of Amazing Grace floated through the darkness.  The man continued staring at our flag as tears rolled down his face.  The young boy looked up at him, and then took his hand.

"Gwampah, I wuv you.  I wepect you.  Fank you for pwotecting us.  I wemembew.  And I wemembew yoah fwends too.  I won't evah fowget."

And that, my friends, is where honor lives.  In the heart of the child who saw, recognized, and embraced that which was worth honoring.

Yesterday was Father's Day.

Usually, on Father's Day, I write something for my husband.  Something to the effect of "You're the one I love and you have children who live in heaven and you're still a daddy."

And that's all true.

But this year, I'm doing something a little different.

I left yesterday noticeably not mentioned.  Because the truth is, it doesn't matter what words I use.  It doesn't matter how heartfelt or true or poignant they are.  Nothing I can say is going to change the fact that when my husband walks in the door after work, there are no tiny feet or sticky fingers or shining eyes to greet him.  There aren't any words that can fill that void in his heart and in his life.  And there isn't anything I can do to change that.

It is hard to know where the balance is.  When does "living life anyway" become "denial of reality?"  How do you know if it's "healthy grief" or "abnormal fixation?" 

What do you say when you love someone and you are literally willing to offer up your body in an effort to make his dream come true?  How do I show him how much I really would fight to change this, when no amount of fighting actually will change anything at all?

And what should a person say when words seem only to muddy the waters? 

Is saying "Happy Father's Day" really the best thing for my husband?

I have thought about it a lot this year.  Mother's Day came and went.  I was told "Happy Mother's Day" and I spent time thinking about Annaliah and when my husband gave me the beautiful card he got me, I was touched.  But I haven't looked at the card since; because it hurts.  And I know for him, it hurts when something reminds him.

So rather than trying to use words to put a band aid on the hole in his heart that was made the day our daughter stepped into eternity, I am just saying this:

"I love you.  I am in this with you.  And we'll see her soon."

And I am reminding him of the one thing that He has spoken softly, many times:
Be still and know, that He is God.