In The Soul Tired Mess

The cool fall air bristled against my skin as I stepped outdoors. Baby in hands, I felt myself inwardly retract as the wind swept over both of us. Now fully aware of the cold leaf-covered grass, I found myself moving a bit more briskly through the dampness now covering my feet. Regretful regarding my choice of footwear, knowing I still had several more trips to make, I inwardly sighed, conceding to the change upon us.

It always feels that way. Harsh at first. The day that comes each year when you know you won’t see a warm one again for quite some time.  
 
Maybe it’s the result of a week poured with rain. Maybe it’s the weariness of the mundane in caring for little ones who always take what feels to be more than I have to give.  

Or perhaps it’s the news from my doctor this week of cells with “high grade changes” and words like “needing to exclude cancer by performing x procedure” (cue hard swallow) that have left me coming up empty and dry.

I don’t always know what my soul needs. Though I tend to think I do. And if I’m being honest, it’s often tied up in my feelings, which are fickle and wavering at best.

I know this to be true, and still, I teeter.

Psalm 103:1 says, "Praise the Lord, my soul; all my inmost being, praise his holy name."

Praise.

Such a churchy word. One I’ve heard what feels like more times than I can count (Heaven help me). One that seems to often associate with the superfluous. Picture guitars, possible flag waving and dancing across sanctuaries. One that has clubs: “kids praise choir”, “praise team” ect. But what does the Bible have to say about praise?

Over and over throughout the Old Testament, praise comes before a victory.

That’s how important it is to God.

So, I began to ask God, how could praise help me get through this really hard thing when it feels like yet another thing to add to my ‘to do’ list that is already over-to-done? Was this yet another emotion I was going to need to muster because I’ve been doing that all morning with two near two-year-olds that awoke before the sun.

The crying. The whining. The colds equating to far more mucous than any two little persons should be allowed to produce. The fighting. The hitting. The biting. And just all of the things you swore your precious children would never do. All of the things that make you question your mothering in a thousand different ways. And really, all of the things that just wear a soul down.

Grabbing my other baby in my arms I moved my cool stiff body toward the car. Wanting nothing more than to crimp and crumple under the warmth of a soft blanket indoors, I was reminded of Psalm 22:3 which says, “God inhabits the praises of his people.”

He comes close when we praise him.

How amazing is that?

The God of the universe comes close to me. Almost unreal.

Nehemiah 8:10 says, “The joy of the Lord will be your strength.”

A few months ago, God gave me a picture of joy being like that of an arrow. Rather than being swayed by emotion, joy was actually a powerful force used by God to target and destroy things like the hopelessness in our lives. Joy was used as a heavenly weapon to shoot holes through the depression in our lives. Joy was a fiery missile used by God to annihilate the lie that we “are all alone”.

Prayer has always been hard for me.

Praise has been harder.

I feel it requiring me to essentially get over myself and praise Him not because of what is going on in my present situation, but because He is worthy.

 

I believe God has been showing me there is inherent value and even power in praise more than simply recalibrating my own heart. As I considered the strength found in the joy of the Lord, I began to wonder. What if praise is how we tap into that power?

What if in praise we can draw on the King of Heaven and walk into our days not with timidity, fear or dread but instead with grace and strength and even joy?

What if in praise we can move forward with greater reverence for this King Jesus? What if we could stand with greater fortitude to bear up under the struggles designed to entrap us? What if praise lights up the darkness all around us?

What if praise was really a war cry, rallying those whose hearts remain fixed on Him? What if it is a holy mobilization of God’s people to action? Can you hear it? Can you hear Him stirring the waters, saying “Rise up sons and daughters.”?

God caused an entire city wall to decimate as his people praised. He set two armies against one another, leaving his people victorious without lifting a finger. All they needed to do was stand and praise. All throughout the Old Testament we see God fighting FOR his people. He simply (or not so simply!) asks them to stand firm. And praise.

Stand firm. And praise.

Praise Him in uncertainty.

Praise Him in the messy.

Praise Him in dusky muddled waters where we presently find ourselves. Perhaps you are there too, wading through murky waters of struggle. Will you join me in praise? Will you join me, believing He will meet you?

We know that “In His presence there is fullness of joy.” (Psalm 16:11)

Meet you there, sweet warrior friend.

Meet you there.

Home again

Home. 💙 And just out of rheumatology follow up where hugs were given as were heavy sighs of relief. My labs remain unsettling, but my white count has improved for which we are thankful. There is question of my blood hemolyzing (blood cells independently bursting- another sign of significant disease) along with the need to determine if my symptoms/ lab abnormalities are related to lupus or underlying viral disease.

I recently told Matt it had been so long since we’d seen health crisis, I almost felt irrelevant to the chronic illness community. *almost* The past two and a half years had been bliss with regard to my health. And just like that, we were thrown back in.

And it all comes back so fast.

And you wonder how you could ever forget this misery in the first place.

The struggle to do the normal things.

The things you don’t think twice about. Until you have to. And you never want to. And these things aren’t even a part of your disease, they’ve just accumulated over the years to come along for the ride. The nasty extras. That sometimes take more from you than your actual disease.

The getting out of bed dizzy and the overall sense of being unwell. The drop in your stomach when you realize you really are unwell and can’t wish it away no matter how hard you try. The deep breath you take in, wondering how long it will stay this time. The walking down the hospital corridor, sensing a precipitous drop in blood pressure and squeezing Matt’s hand, while silently begging God not to let you go down here on the hospital floor. The anxiety that comes from loss of bodily control and doing your best to internally beat it back while attempting to steady your shaky hands. The sudden onset nausea that comes out of nowhere, bringing with it if given the opportunity, me left lying passed out on the floor in a cold clammy mess. The need for IV therapy nurses to put in your IVs because the floor nurses can’t get a vein, no matter how many sticks they try. The need to not stand in one position for more than five minutes or again, I will go down. Honestly, I didn’t even know that was possible. Until I did. And I’d like to unknow all of this in some ways. And in other ways, I can’t help but be anything but grateful for through these things, we have seen the good and merciful hand of God, who hasn’t been about making our lives easy. But instead about making them real, so we can see him more. And maybe, that’s the most beautiful and most merciful thing he could do.

Neutropenic fever

My bone marrow has been sluggish, yielding only a 0.7 bump in white blood cells from yesterday’s levels. (We had been cautiously hoping for a 3-4 point increase.)The hematologist has informed us that because I have been on immune suppressing medications for so long, my bone marrow may take longer to stimulate. Additionally, my platelets have begun to drop.

Infectious disease wants to keep watching me until all blood cultures return (which may take days) and my numbers normalize. In the mean time, I continue on IV antibiotics and neutropenic precautions (ie. elimination of all germs, mask wearing, obsessive hand washing, no raw fruits or vegetables), as even a small bug could be catastrophic at this juncture.

And so we wait. In conditions that are less than ideal. Away from my babies. On a broken bed that sounds like a vacuum, inflating and deflating all night long.

But even in my current state of misery, the hand of God has been evident in the details. Matt and I left vacation a day early. Had we stayed, I wouldn’t have gotten labs drawn to discover the gravity of my numbers which could have easily cost me my life. Literally.

We also see him in my rheumatologist, who called me from her vacation in Maine to tell me to emergently come in. She has continued to not only follow up with the doctors here, but also text me personally. Who does that?

I came across this verse a few days ago while reading the book of Luke, and it hit me, though I know I’ve read it before. It was spoken by Elizabeth to Mary upon learning Mary was pregnant with Jesus.

“Blessed is she who has believed that the Lord would fulfill his promises to her.” (Luke 1:45)

She believed him.

I think maybe one of the reasons it stuck out to me was that I was doing the exact opposite. I was struggling to believe God’s promises for me. Struggling to trust him fully. Struggling to turn to him first- before Matt or my parents or if we’re being honest- a show, or a workout or even a pathetic bowl of ice cream. Sometimes I struggle to turn to him at all.

And even STILL, I can see a river of grace behind me.

He is faithful when we are faithless.

Lord that you would increase my faith. To not assume the worst is coming. To not be ruled by anxiety or fear of what others are thinking. To not need to control everything for there to be PEACE.

To TRUST first and not last.

To HOPE first and not sometimes.

To KNOW you hold all things, know all things and can be fully and completely trusted, no matter how ugly things get.

If you’re anything like me, maybe you could use this simple prayer too:

Help me believe him too.💗

Are You Sure About That God?

 

Have you ever felt like God doesn’t hear your prayers? I’m not sure why I would given his track record in my own life, or (hello?) the Bible. The things he has done for our family alone have been nothing short of miraculous. Truly. Astoundingly miraculous.

Even still, within the wanderings of my own mind, I have found myself feeling a bit down over the past few weeks. And perhaps a bit defeated, ever trying to swat away the nagging whisper in my ear, “But why?”.

This past fall my husband and I attended an open house for Connecticut’s Foster to Adopt program, something that has been on our hearts for some time. While there, we were told stories of children who were literally sitting in the hospital waiting for someone to give them a home. It was all I could do not to tear up at this causal, albeit heavy, informational meeting. As we sat under the fluorescent lights with candy spread over a long round table, we were given stacks of papers and a subtle sense of sadness, knowing even the newest of ones were to experience deep (likely life-long) trauma.

 As we exited the room that evening, we were told to give them forty days to perform background checks and then we could expect to hear from them.

Forty days came and went.

And we heard nothing.

Sixty days came and went.

Still nothing.

“Maybe it was because of the holidays. That was probably why,” I told my husband assuredly.

A few more weeks passed.

It was January now, and we still hadn’t heard anything.

I knew we could call and inquire regarding the status of our application. But I also knew I needed God to be IN this. We had prayed that if it was his will for us to do this that someone would call.

But no one did.

From time to time, I casually asked my husband if he thought we should just call. My subtle attempts to force God’s hand weren’t exactly fooling him.

And so, we waited some more.

As time passed I began to wonder, was this not something God wanted for us? Was my illness going to essentially render me ‘unqualified’ for this role? Was I nuts, already having twins and a five-year-old to care for? Was God not behind this, knowing there was more sickness down the road?

My thoughts spun round as I knelt down on the ground, picking up the dropped food from the boys’ lunch (and breakfast if we’re being honest…and last night’s dinner too if we’re really being honest). Glancing down at my hand now scattered with taco meat, cheerios and bits of strawberries, I exhaled deep. As I emptied it into a large plastic garbage bag I stood to my feet, peering out my kitchen window. I began to earnestly pray, “God if you are in this, PLEASE, PLEASE let this happen.”

 

An hour passed, and I picked up my phone to check my email. An email sat in my inbox from a social worker from DCF inviting us to schedule a home visit and begin the process.

It was sent that very afternoon.

My heart skipped a beat, and I immediately called my husband. Tears streaked down my face, my doubts instantly assuaged.

 

 

I later checked my phone to read the admittedly cheesy ‘verse of the day’ app which read, “If you remain in me, and my words remain in you, you will ask whatever you desire, and it will be done for you.”

 I knew those words were for me.  

And I knew my God had heard me and he had answered.

 A sense of love enveloped me in that moment.



 And with it followed an unexpected pause.

How quick I had been to forget (dismiss?) the things he had done. Was my faith so wavering that a prolonged response would lead me to question him? And would I have been equally assured of his love for me if his answer had been ‘no’?

I had certainly heard it before. But would it be okay -really okay- if he said it again?

These questions didn’t sit well.

As a forever planner, it had always been my preference to know exactly where we were going, who was going to be there and what we were going to do. None of which particularly jived with the life of a Christ- follower, called to abandon oneself, not the least of which was going to include one’s carefully thought out plans.

I needed to remind myself that he was completely and totally trustable. In all things.

I needed to recall that he was faithful at every turn, no matter how dark the picture.

I needed to remember his goodness. To all generations.

His mercies new every morning.

And so, I set about to make what has been a long time coming- stones inscribed with specific things God has done for us. A simple gesture, which now remains next to our fireplace, as a way for us to remember. 

“I will give thanks to the Lord with my whole heart; I will recount all of your wonderful deeds.” Ps 9:1

Rick Warren says, “The fact is, the reason we have so many ineffective Christians today is that they do not know how to fight the battle of the mind.”

In Romans 7:19 Paul says, “For I do not do the good I want to do, but the evil I do not want to do-this I keep doing.”

Me too Paul. Me too.

But I find, I do it less when I remember. Remember what he has done for me. And look to his character. That’s where faith builds.

“And they remembered that God was their rock, and the Most High God their Redeemer.” Ps 78:35

“To you, Lord, I call; you are my Rock, do not turn a deaf ear to me. For if you remain silent, I will be like those who go down to the pit.” Ps 28:1

“Praise be to the Lord my Rock, who trains my hands for war, my fingers for battle.” Ps 144:1

The physicality of the stones in our home, while seemingly insignificant, to us, declare:

We will remember.

We will not forget.

We will teach our children to remember the good things he has done so that in the hour of trouble, we will remember, and WE WILL STAND.

So if, like me, you question your prayers, or maybe you just wonder if he even hears you at ALL, be encouraged to look back. Remember a time when he came through for you. Let that be a testament to his character, his goodness and love for you.

1 Peter 5:8 says, “Your enemy the devil prowls around like a roaring lion looking for someone to devour.” Don’t let that be you. Arm yourself with the truth found in his word. Read it out loud and preach it to your own heart. The Psalms is a great place to start. 

And if this whole prayer thing is new, I challenge you to reach out in faith.

You might just be blown away by his answer. 

 

I sure have been.