Hormones Are Just Not Cool

I decided to join the Upper Room fast this week, ‘cause fasting seems to help me deal with difficult situations.  Last time I fasted, it was right after stopping my antidepressants.  It was a very beautiful time of total dependence on God.  My rational, medically oriented mind said denying my body of food after stopping meds I’d been on for over three years was just plain stupid. But faith doesn’t abide by reason. Faith said I was choosing to trust God to heal my depression, bridge the gaps, fill in the missing pieces…Faith lets go of what I can see and reaches out to the One who knows me best.

My fasting this week is stimulated by continued problems with caffeine withdrawal, headaches, hot flashes, and sleep.  Yes, it’s all rooted in something that’s perfectly normal although horribly humiliating to me. And that would be the awful, dreaded time in life called menopause.  Those valuable hormones that have sustained me since I was 13, are now exiting my aging body quite rudely and abruptly.   I’m embarrassed though, because it means I’m getting old saying “so long” to the familiar, and acknowledging with or, perhaps without grace, another stage of life.  And I’m just not sure how easily I’m going to let go.  It seems to be causing me some grief, sadness, and fear about what to expect.  Maybe someone should write a book about what to expect when you’re expecting…menopause?

Yesterday I was so sleep deprived from recurring hot flashes and headaches that I felt like an idiot in Bible Class. We were divided into groups of four and asked to pray.  I re-introduced myself to a young man in my group that didn’t know me other than being Andrew’s mom.  So I look over at him and said, “You remember, I’m Andrew’s sister”.  Obviously I’d intended to say, “Andrew’s mom”.  It took a full 15 seconds at least, before I saw the looks on people’s faces letting me know I’d made another verbal snafu.  I corrected myself, and although one young adult continued to laugh hard, it wasn’t funny to me.  I then heard an old, ugly “tape” in my head, reminding me of how stupid I felt. 

When I was in elementary school, I was in some sort of discussion with my dad.  I can’t remember the specifics but he got agitated at me, and said something that left a permanent gouge in my self esteem.  He told me, “You’d be better to just keep your mouth shut, and then no one will know how stupid you are.”   Ouch.  I’m, afraid anyway of speaking out loud.  Most times, I don’t trust myself to get the words out correctly especially if I’m tired. We’ve just attributed my occasional “slow brain” to old Dissociative Identity issues, like an old scar that jolts me across some mental bumps in the road. On difficult days I’ve been disoriented, and on some level thought I was back in an earlier time frame.  I’ve told Tommy several times, “I’m not going to Longview today, maybe tomorrow.” What I meant was Mesquite, but for a bit of time, I couldn’t quit decipher where I was. We usually laugh about it, and the kids know they have to think around my words to the real meaning.  

Anyway, after the group's laughing subsided yesterday, I refocused on our task to pray for an individual.  I told myself that my intellect was in no way connected to my ability to get my thoughts formed into verbal communication.  Besides, the Lord was present.  I asked Him to speak through all of us and when it came time to pray, I did.  I’m not sure what all I said, but I know there was no stumbling.  The Holy Spirit has a way of bypassing our scars and fears and pouring out through even the most broken souls willing to be used.  And I am willing. 

So today, I will fast and draw near to my Father not just about the headaches and hot flashes, but with eager anticipation of anything and everything He wants to reveal.  As hard as it is to be thankful for the icky things in life, I’ll try to praise God for this time of change in my life, knowing that He is preparing and using my weaknesses to be a clear voice, for Him.

Broken Hearts, Hand in Hand

I’m by myself today, probably the first time in a while.  There are a million things I need to be doing but my mind keeps trapping me in a relentless, mentally draining, “what if” scenario about tomorrow.

We’ve been oddly waiting for, yet dreading, Mom’s cardiology appointment for months now.  Just thinking about taking her for the echocardiogram tomorrow makes my heart pound and my adrenaline pump a bit too hard. Its like my mind knows even before the doctor tells us, that things are worse.

I’m not being negative and its not a crisis of faith either.  I’ve seen her health go steadily downhill for the last year. It shows in her eyes, the color of her skin, in her walk, and as she catches her breath moving Daddy back and forth from their bed. Her weakened heart valves are not closing properly.  And I feel myself somehow chasing after her down this long steep hill, trying so very hard to catch up so I can fix things or at least patch them over for awhile longer.

I crave time to just sit and spill my thoughts about anything and everything.  She does the same.  The other day while dad was getting his teeth pulled, we couldn’t fit enough words in to our uninterrupted waiting time. If I could just soak up a bit more of her wisdom before…

I can't bear to think about her leaving me.  And I can’t even stand the thought of her being sick again, like with her brain surgery a few years ago. Today it feels like my heart is broken too. The responsibility and decisions of caring for Daddy are tremendous.  But it’s more about me not seeing her suffer, and wishing things could be better. 

I’d love to give her a taste of another life, one that allowed her and daddy to spend their “golden years” trolling through old antique malls, dining in quaint little restaurants, and going to worship together with their friends.  I’d love to see Daddy caring for her when she is ill, fixing her coffee, tucking her in at night, locking the doors and then kissing her cheek with assurance that all is well. But that won't be happening in this life.

We shall see tomorrow. Some sort of life changing verdict will be handed down and, as always, we will adjust, decide to make the best of it, and encourage each other to move on down the hill, hopefully hand in hand, in acceptance of her path.

One of these days the Lord will make it up to my mother.  He will bring her peace, joy, and hope that I’m sure she hasn’t experienced in…probably never. And in the meantime I am just gonna try really hard to live well, each day we are given, and be thankful.

Testimony

Dear Family,

It's been a little over four years since Andrew's diagnosis of FSGS/Nephtrotic Syndrome, and the many endocrine issues that followed.

He had a checkup with his kidney doctor two weeks ago, and the labs looked nearly normal except for still spilling a small amount of protein.  I think they will basically say, for the first time ever, that he's nearly in remission from the FSGS. 

Praise be to our God and Father! Initially we were told he'd likely need a kidney transplant at this point in his life. Instead we're celebrating his healing that has surprised even his doctor. 

It's been a long, grueling, beautiful journey marked with suffering, heart break, grief, joy, spiritual growth, and miracles on many levels.  Ya'll have continued to love us and cover us all in prayer during what has often felt like the valley of the shadow of death. There are just no words to describe how thankful we are for you, the body of Christ.

As a family, we've learned to let go of our plans/ expectations of life. The suffering has redirected us to walk hand in hand with the Lord one day at a time.  Though there have been times we've felt hopeless and wanted to give up, we've learned that the challenges didn't kill us.  And as horrible as things were for Andrew, he has learned to love God with all of his heart, and taken on a mature faith in our Father, early in life, that will see him through the years ahead.  Tommy and I’ve both recently said, we wouldn’t change a thing.  As radical as it may sound, we wouldn’t trade the physical trauma for the spiritual health he has gained in the process.

If there's a message we'd leave with others, its that regardless of whether God brings us a miracle of healing, or allows continued suffering, He...is...faithful. And He'll never leave us to navigate through the darkness alone.

Thank you Father God, and may your name, above anything else, be praised!  

With much love,

Tommy & Kerrie

Duct Taped and Holding

Last night I was bent over dad’s legs trying to fasten a wide elastic strap.  It was a feeble attempt to keep his paralyzed leg from flopping sideways.  Normally once mom gets him in his electric chair, she sticks this homemade paddle type device in a bracket that keeps his leg in place.  After a long series of unrelated chaos the last week, though, mom was exhausted.  She misplaced the paddle yesterday afternoon. Translated means, she probably put the paddle on top of the car roof after wedging his body back in for a ride to the lawyer's office.  She was on time for our appointment to sign papers, but I’m pretty sure the paddle landed somewhere between their house and Main Street in Forney.

I was going over there anyway last night to get them packed for the hospital. He has bladder stones, a common but icky complication of permanent catheters.  The procedure is supposed to be outpatient, but last time he was in three days. So I showed up to pack supplies for the worst scenario, and reassured mom that I had everything under control.

After lining the suitcases along the wall, mom and I scavenged around the shop looking for anything we could use to create a "paddle” for dad’s leg.  He didn’t care about the packing, surgery, or mom’s need to sleep.  He just wanted something to keep his leg from flopping so he could maneuver through the doorways..  I grabbed a dowel rod and mother got an old cutting board and roll of duct tape.  I ignored Dad's attempt to send me back out to the shop to get clamps.  I had no time for his woodworking finesse.  Lydia needed a shower, Andrew needed sinus meds to stall a looming infection. Plus, I hadn’t even seen Tommy except to meet him the previous afternoon at an oral surgeon’s office for Andrew's consult.  And that followed an early morning emergency visit to Lydia’s orthodontist. 

My life consists of schedules and needs that are spilling over in sloppy, inconvenient messes.  And like the duct taped paddle, this morning it feels like I’m just barely holding things together. But…things are holding for now. Their air conditioner was newly installed, dad’s foot wasn’t broken in the wreck, and months of work on their legal affairs are nearly completed. Mom’s appointment with the heart doctor is scheduled, and Dad is heading into surgery this morning.  Yes, I suppose holding together, albeit with duct tape is better than not isn’t it?

God, please make my migraine go away. Let me be kind and gracious today.  Keep me from snapping at nurses and doctors who ask us for the millionth time “does he have any health issues or past surgeries” (duh!).  Let me be patient, slow to getting pissed off, and thankful for the less obvious blessings.  Above all, fill me with your love so that I won’t have regrets at the end of the day.

Cutting Loose

I finally stopped taking them. It’s been over three years since my doctor agreed to treat me for depression.   It was humbling to have to go back to pills after being free of them for so long. But they helped pull me out of a very dark place when Andrew was so sick. I was thankful for the relief.

A few weeks ago I asked if I couldn’t try to get off the pills.The cost to keep me on Tommy’s family insurance at the school was more than we could afford each month.  So I started looking to get my own policy.  I’m unusually healthy for my nearly 49 year old body, but the rates were due to increase regardless of my low risk. Go figure… Paying that much was as good as throwing away grocery money each month. So while I was pruning the budget and things in our family were emotionally stable, meaning no one had died or was in the hospital, I decided to cut  myself loose from the antidepressants too.  Being prescription free would save even more money plus make me more marketable for acceptance with a private policy:)

It’s a scary thing to let go of, like releasing hold of a life raft because of my fear of drowning in depression. But the Lord has continued to bless me with healing from back pain, so I figured why not take the plunge again and ask for another miracle.

My doctor warned me things might get a little rough for a couple of weeks after stopping the medication. I told him I would stay intentionally close to God during that time and that He would keep me afloat.  He did! I've been pill free for three weeks and haven't even noticed a difference!

There is just no other high more intoxicating than being in God’s presence, cut loose from old securities, walking on the water with Him. Lord, I want to praise you for your mercy and grace, and give you all honor for your priceless gift of peace. 

One Breath at a Time

So here I am Lord, Lydia and Luke are off to school for their second day, Andrew is still asleep and will soon get up for online classes, and I, am breathing…just breathing.

I feel almost guilty for being alone with my thoughts.  I’d planned on keeping Lydia home 2-3 years in home school.  But I was exhausted, mom and dad need me at their house more and more, and I have felt trapped and hopeless. I guess there comes a time that sacrificing one’s self is not so noble and gallant as it is stupid. I can’t do it all, and no one ever asked me to.  No one except that annoying little critical voice in my brain that nags at me like a relentless, invisible nat buzzing in my ear.

Sooo, knowing mom’s deteriorating health, and dad’s increasing needs looming on the horizon, I was prompted to juggle priorities again and encourage Lydia to return to school.  With the help of her sweet brother Luke, she decided it would be a good thing.  I've struggled with the guilt of not being “enough” to do it all.  But the problem is “all” is a bottomless pit and my endurance is not.  So, with a mixture of sadness and relief, I’ve sent my sweet Sassy back to public school. 

She loved her first day, and so did Luke.  What a relief for me!  That doesn’t mean I’m a failure though as a home school mom.  It just means we’ve had a year of bonding and loving each other and trust building that I wouldn’t have been able to experience with her if we’d not pulled her out last year.  That is priceless!!  Now if I can just finish her memory book before this next year is over.

I sense a push of some sorts to not miss out on time with my parents. Its like Holy Spirit is letting me know time is short. We’ve been working on lots of legal things to get “affairs in order” so that Tommy and I will have an easier time when they pass on.  It’s a sobering thing to have to sit and discuss with your parents for weeks on end, but it is a part of life.  And theirs is winding down.  I won’t be sorry or have any regrets though. 

Yesterday I called to talk to mom, and daddy answered the phone.  His speech has become more garbled and if he isn’t begging to lay down out of exhaustion, he is begging to get up because he is in pain, all over.  Yet when I asked how he was today, he says, “Oh, I’m doing ok considering…”  What a trooper, my dad.  He’s always clung to life with such fervor and enthusiasm, despite the paralysis, tubes, colostomy and bags...  Yet he usually responds to my “how are you” question with something fairly positive before asking how I am doing.  You gotta love His attitude. 

This year I want to be intentional to savor each moment, conversation, crisis, complaint, every smile, hug, and encouraging word as though it were the last.  Because one day it will be.  One day I will feel the pull to call Mother to check on her and ramble on about all the latest with the kids.  One day I will feel depressed and need to hear her unconditional reassurance of how special and loved I am.  But one day I will have to remember that she is not on the other end of the phone, or the other side of that old unleveled front door.   I’ll have a life time, though, of “gosh I’m so glad I did….”  I'll have a heart full of memories and love stored up for the empty times when I can’t feel her physical presence or hear her sweet voice.   

As my favorite author Nika Maples just reminded me in a blog post “A Time for Every Purpose: Why I Am Not TeachingThis Year”, I can’t do it all.  But right now I can do this. I can worship and love God with everything that I am. I can love, care for, and savor this time with my parents. I can release Lydia back out into the public school world.  I can enjoy this last year with Andrew at home. And I can, without guilt, be good to myself, taking time to just breath.

The Forgiving "Vine"

He will turn my mourning into dancing.

During my fast this week, I did some writing about forgiving. I was too insecure to get up in front of the church last night to speak, imagine that! But I can write today from my safe place, and say quite openly that giving the Lord my full attention during those three days was life changing. I wouldn't trade the intimacy I had with Him for all the gourmet food in the world. The specifics of who I needed to forgive, I’ll keep private.  But the wisdom God gave me is what I’d like to share.

As much therapy as I’ve been through, I can say that God has helped me do some major forgiving to those that hurt me.  But just as God forgives me every day, I’m realizing that for my own sanity, I’ve got to do that for others. What I’ve realized is that the same people that hurt me in the past, have continued to wound, scar and reshape my future.Over and over again, its like a repeating "vine" segment one of my kids might post on the internet. Really, none of us are different in  our own screw ups, though. In fact God has to watch all of us daily repeating "vine" like behaviors that He'd love to interrupt the cycle of.

Anyway, God reminded me that this cycle of sinning and forgiving was the consequence of living with imperfect families, friends, and even the Church. Just as I don't want a credit limit on His grace to me, I better be willing to up the grace I extend to my own. I wish that were as easy as posting a "vine" on forgiveness... 

God began preparing my heart for the fast a week ago when he showed me Psalms 50 

⁷ “O my people, listen as I speak.

    Here are my charges against you, O Israel:
    I am God, your God!
⁸ I have no complaint about your sacrifices
    or the burnt offerings you constantly offer.
⁹ But I do not need the bulls from your barns
    or the goats from your pens.
¹⁰ For all the animals of the forest are mine,
    and I own the cattle on a thousand hills.
¹¹ I know every bird on the mountains,
    and all the animals of the field are mine.
¹² If I were hungry, I would not tell you,
    for all the world is mine and everything in it.
¹³ Do I eat the meat of bulls?
    Do I drink the blood of goats?
¹⁴ Make thankfulness your sacrifice to God,
    and keep the vows you made to the Most High.
¹⁵ Then call on me when you are in trouble,
    and I will rescue you,
    and you will give me glory.”

The greatest sacrifice I can give my Father is praise…just pure thankfulness regardless of what I'm juggling.  And in the passage, He even told me why.  So He could rescue me and I could turn around and bring the honor right back to him for what he’s done.

I get pretty riled up and even erect "I don't hear you" walls, when well-meaning people throw out simplistic answers to complex situations. But for the Spirit to show me in scripture that what He really wants above all is my thankful heart…that got my attention.

Father God, I know you’ve shown me this week that the most desirable sacrifice I can give is to praise you…always and forever. But I’ve been asking myself how I can praise you when I’m angry...depression, disappointment in people, bitterness for things not being different, self blame, and shame...perhaps those are the consequences of holding on to grudges?   

Maybe with forgiveness will come a fresh anointing of a thankful heart. Surely then, my spirit will lighten and praise will come easier, my sweet sacrifice of praise…to you. Yes, that is what you truly want from me! 

Help me to see myself and others through your eyes and then forgive, Lord. And may you turn my mourning into a life-long dance that honors you! 

Fasting ~ The Hungry Heart

Well, its day two of my all church fast about forgiveness.  I was afraid to do this.  Although I’ve tried many times to fast, I’ve never been able to complete the three days.  Anticipation of meeting with the Lord on a level that surpasses any intimacy I’ve ever known…that’s what has caused me to forge ahead of my fears. 

Anticipation of revelation, understanding, and freedom as Holy Spirit whispers to my spirit, knowing what I need, what I crave more than food.  Because through communion with my Papa, that hunger is filled.  I’ll be satisfied, thankful, and full of praise.  At least that’s what I’m hoping for.  So eagerly, like a little child, I’m waiting for my exquisite event with Him.

I half expected to wake up this morning famished and exhausted, but instead I woke up extra early, ahead of my alarm, and again…expectant.  Stepping out in trust just to let go of food seems such a silly thing, but I’m into anything that will bring me true joy. So I went outside with my coffee in hand to greet my Father with an empty stomach and a hungry heart.

In Psalms 50 I read something I thought was profound.  God told David that he didn’t care so much, didn’t even need his elaborate, extravagant animal sacrifices.  “I own them all anyway,” he said.  "What I really want is your true praise and thanksgiving.  Call on me during your hard times so that I can rescue you…and then you can give the glory to me." Praise is the real sacrifice He desires, at least that’s my street-wise understanding of what I read.

And it’s true, praise is a sacrifice, especially when life is disappointing me and I can’t see a way out.  Because praising God in spite of, requires me to give up a lot.  I have to give up expectations, and my controlling need to plan and fix.  I have to give up my natural instinct to worry, and surrender to the blunt truth that I’m not in charge. No matter how much manipulation I maneuver, I can’t “make” things happen.  True heartfelt, soul - baring praising God in all things, for me, means walking away from my right to complain and live in fear. Just the thought of exiting off that familiar road, feels like I’m leaving my security. But the Bible speaks truth.  I tend to blow off things others write, especially authors who appear to have, ahhhh, less soiled lives, thinking  ‘yeah, yeah, yeah, they just don’t get it’…but these scriptures are the real thing. And they are piercing me clean through.

It’s like He’s saying to me…"even more important than you having money to tithe lavishly, I want the most valuable sacrifice you can give to me.  I want your praise now, your thankfulness during the ‘awful awful, I will never be free of this,’ times. I want your unconditional love, Kerrie, that only you can surrender over to me.  And by the way…in return I can’t wait to rescue you so you can love and praise me even more.”

I’m thinking that forgiveness is going to tie in somewhere during the fast.  Perhaps it will more naturally flow out of a thankful heart?  We will see…

Messages from the Mush Pot

So here I am God, back again today writing about my offenses toward you.  How arrogant that sounds, perhaps I should revise that to say I have issues with my life.  Or let’s just get down to the heart of it.  I feel like a kicking, angry two year old who, after sincerely praying for your will, hasn’t gotten what she thought would’ve been the most profitable of short term solutions.  Problem is, I only see short term, and you, ‘ol Wise One, see through to a much grander future than I can even conceive of.  One that, oh my gosh, might not even have “yours truly” at the center of it all.  So this pouting two year old is left with a choice to trust you or not. 

 

That’s what it really comes down to, God, do I trust you?  Will I be satisfied with your responses to my prayers regardless?  Do I really want to follow you -- your not so popular, not so sparkly, follow me no matter what, will?

I can say I’ll be content, Lord, whatever you put or don’t put before me.  But logging on to Facebook, the site where all good things are displayed, I tend to feel less thankful and more jealous.  Summers are the worst God, and if I’m not careful I fall into the dangerous game of comparison. That deadly game always brings me down, making me feel less than the best and brightest, always lacking in the consumable blessings department.  I lose perspective of my intangible, obscure, less glitzy blessings that I know are truly priceless.

And writing Lord, back to the business of honoring you through words, I have some “issues” about this that I need to discuss too.

I’ve tried to be brave.  Really I have tried to keep getting back up to face life or back on my knees to beg for your courage and strength.  I’ve tried to record those things that would be uplifting to others, as a testimony to your grace and mercy.  Although, we both know you’ve sat alongside me as I’ve privately recorded things that will forever remain just that.  Because publishing words, only after the grit and grime have been wrung out is much more presentable and palatable.  Plus it keeps me looking cleaner to write after the burn of shame has worn off enough for me to proclaim a higher message. 

 

I just want to be pleasing to you Father, but I’m still such a work in progress.  The more you reveal to me about the “issues” that need adjusting, the more I feel as if I’m in the perpetual Mush Pot…that place where I go to develop character that rarely comes without your admonishment and my sacrifice. The Mush Pot, not designed to be fun, but a place of…let’s just say revealing, exfoliating, and sometimes excruciating exposure of the most tarnished parts of me.

That’s it God.  I want so badly to shine untarnished, reflecting only you…and then write about it.  But, ask me to write while I’m in the Mush Pot?  Like yesterday’s writing, it’s not a pretty sight to behold. And it’s humbling. Don’t ask me to keep sharing what it feels like to be pruned down to a bare, vulnerable stalk with weeping wounds.

Unless...I’m wondering if ‘being in the trenches’ with my nephews, with other wounded, beaten-down souls, doesn’t involve me recording grit and grime in the middle of my own battles. Maybe you’ve called me to the less pleasant role of recording my Mush Pot transformation. And just maybe you’ll fashion a sling-shot worthy, Goliath flattening weapon, suited to launch my own not so smooth, in the middle of being refined, stones.

  

I love you, Lord, and just ask that no matter what you place in my life, you’ll use it to bring honor to you.

There, now how’s that for a happy ending for today:)   

I’ll see what tomorrow brings…