To Do Or Not To Do

During this season of Lent, I've felt the need to detoxify from Facebook and Photoshop, both culprits that have recently been gouging massive chunks out of me. Their subtle lure has been an enticing and socially acceptable means of escaping my “to do” filled life. Each day I’ve hoped to finish an over flowing list of needs while still finding time for myself. Although I don’t have a ready bucket list waiting to put into action, I’m sure I could come up with something. However, the sun sets in the evening, and with it, any chance of "me" time. I finish the day only to fall into bed, sleep, and wake up to more racing throughout the day. Like the descent of dense grey fog, a very sobering thought has settled itself into my consciousness these last few weeks… ‘I WILL NEVER BE FINISHED!’

And so breeds resentment and frustration, which are nice words for passive anger that stews and simmers unbeknownst by me. The poisonous mixture seeps into my thoughts, leaving behind the stench of discontented complaining… like a virus really, contaminating the good and obscuring the sweetness that I know still lives beneath monotonous days.

The idea that I could control some part of my day has become an unattainable luxury, a mirage of hope that’s vanished with the coming-of-the-fog. So I’ve found myself lost in cyber world, often oblivious to the need to fix dinner, tuck kids into bed, begin school in the morning…sometimes I just don’t give a care so I escape. But just like any drug of choice, the high I get from it crashes quickly into a reality of laundry, dishes, school, and parent needs.  There are no Facebook fairies to magically wave the daily duties away while I vegetate online, and I can’t Photoshop away all of life’s blemishes. Nope, it’s all there waiting for me, but with less time than earlier to complete, and lots more agitation with everything and everyone, including myself.

The detoxification process has been painful the last few days, leaving me with loneliness and a longing for something.  I’ve spent more time reading in the Bible though, and praying, asking God to draw close while I lay down the cyber crutches. The Lord has reminded me that I do have choices in each day, to kick and scream like a two year old, or to display a spirit of submission to His plans. Although my two year old is usually the first responder, a  more mature and Christ-like spirit says, "Yes, Lord; I’ll go where you lead."

So was my state when I went to see the dentist on Wednesday. After telling me I needed a couple of crowns in the next few months, he talked to me about his dad who had been put in the hospital last week.  His parents and mine have known each other since...before I was born.  After telling mom about it, we decided to get them up to the hospital to see their old friend.  It wasn’t convenient to leave in the middle of Lydia’s and Andrew’s lessons on Friday, and it took a good bit of effort from mother to get them dressed, in the car, and over to my house. Mom’s always had a saying that sometimes you just “do”.  You do what has to be done when it’s important and then deal with any fall out later. We determined that this was one such important time, to lay aside any practicality and “just do.” So we didJ

Minus my GPS, I managed to drive mom and dad's 15 year old car to the unfamiliar hospital and park in a handicapped place. After we slowly extracted daddy out of the car and deposited him into his chair, I wheeled him up to the rehab unit where their friend was recuperating. I stopped myself from smarting off to the nice aide behind the desk when she asked sweetly if I was bringing Daddy in as a new patient.  Thankfully, she couldn’t hear my not so nice thoughts. 

‘No he isn’t new, he’s 80 years old and he isn’t patient at all lately. You really don’t want him here. He’s got an attitude and has spent enough time in rehabs over the last 27 years that he’d think he was qualified to run this place. Yes, he may look like he needs rehab, but as bad as he looks, it’s as good as it’s gonna get missy, but, thanks for asking.’

We found their friend dining in the sun room and parked dad next to him.  It made me sad, to watch mom and dad with him, thinking about all they’d been through the last 48 years together. There they were,  not in a deacon's or elder's meeting as in an earlier life, but parked side by side in wheelchairs swapping rehab stories. While Lydia and I waited patiently, it occurred to me that I was sitting in the presence of three inspiring warriors; warriors that had never given up; Godly people that have kept going although their current circumstances didn’t reflect any semblance of what they might have wanted.

   

Soon it was time to leave. The efforts to transfer dad back into the car were just as tedious, but we eventually buckled everyone back in safely and headed east. As I wove in and out of busy I635 traffic, I felt a tremendous weight of responsibility, more than I thought I could handle. To the right was my paralyzed dad, towel in lap, trying to eat a burger with one hand.  In the back was mom, newly diagnosed with two leaky heart valves-- full of child-like trust that I’d get them home without a hitch.  And Lydia…my little 10 year old trooper has grown up sharing her mom with others. She still had lessons to finish out the week.  'Lord,’ I thought, ‘I can’t finish this life!  I’m not qualified and I’m overwhelmed right now. What are you thinking about?’

Glancing back at mom though, I was reminded of the previous Wednesday that I’d come over after seeing my dentist. She had greeted me with a huge blessing. Short on money, time, and energy, I’d committed to too many things again and couldn’t get it all done.  She had managed to go to the store and bank for me and put together a very organized sack full of cards, cash, and candy for the kids Valentines’ Day. It had saved me hours that I’d not had to spare. But more than time was this amazing blessing of having my mother still in my life, loving me, believing in me, and taking care of me as her daughter.

 

After thanking her a few times, she hugged me tightly and said, “Kerrie, we do what we have to do because it’s what we’ve been given. The only choice we have is in how we respond to what comes our way.  We’re a team you and I, and it will work out.” Then she said, “I’m so thankful I was able to help you today.”

With mom’s recent diagnosis of heart trouble, I know the ebbing and flowing of our relationship of mom and daughter will continue to shift, settle, and then shift again. My prayer is that during this Lent season that God can show me the beauty of service as I’ve seen in the lives of those three warriors. That I’ll lay down fear and resentment, and like mom, embrace the love of “doing” in such a way that blesses all those precious souls that God has entrusted into my care.  

                                                    

Ready or Not, Here I Come!

I looked at my empty pill compartment last week. It was time to fill the tiny cubicles with my daily supplements, mostly a mix of over-the-counter vitamins, fish oil, minerals....all except my anti-depressant. That little spherical substance has had me in a love - hate relationship for years. Although I detested becoming a repeat user of psychiatric meds, I was relieved and indebted to my doctor for prescribing it after Andrew was diagnosed with FSGS. And as expected, that tiny pill balanced me out within a few weeks, lifting a suffocating curtain of darkness. 

 

It’s been nearly three years since I began swallowing my daily mental health allotment. I’ve recently felt called, though, to exchange its crutch-like influence for total dependence on my Father. Ready or not, I wanted to throw aside my cane and hear my Papa say..."Get up and walk, girl, your faith has made you well.” I’ll not lie though. My rational side has spewed forth logical excuses for not releasing me in absolute abandonment to His healing.

 

The miracle I’ve experience on my lower back, however, has encouraged me. Recently, I’ve heard Him whisper to me in the early dark mornings, “Run, Kerrie, run!” Even today, I broke loose during my time outside. What an experience to jog down the street without wincing in pain, or merely limping along on the worst of days.

Now, I want to close my eyes to the rational once more, to experience His healing power over my depression.  It's not an easy thing for me to let go of the pills that’ve worked to stabilize me from landing in a permanent pit of despair. I’ve been reasoning though, if he's relieved back spasms and swelling, then surely He's able to fix the chemical imbalances in my weary, emotionally spent brain.  

But this isn’t merely about giving up prescriptions. I just long for more, that’s all...more of Him and of opportunities to walk out a life of faith, hand in hand with the Greatest Healer ever known. My heart cries out,  'Here I come, Papa!  Watch me straddle the edge of this old raft, balancing one foot down, with the other poised and ready to sprint across the waves to you!' Soon, I hope to see a vacant pill compartment on my counter and an abandoned raft drifting past shores of doubt.

Reporting for Duty

After my recent experience with the neighbor, I felt vulnerable, betrayed, and rather angry.  I felt like someone had just gouged another rut in my abusive past, and I wanted to lash out with a whip.  But after going to hear Todd White speak, I think God broke through with quite a revelation for me to simmer on.

 

Going to war against my accuser satan, might look a bit different than I’d earlier thought. Todd kept talking about keeping my eyes focused on my Father. If I did that, then the His love would readily flow into my daily actions towards others. He mentioned several times about loving the Lord with all my heart, soul, mind and strength, and loving my neighbor as myself. What better way to deal with my old enemy than to turn what he’d meant to crater me, into victory for God? At one point I felt His eyes piercing through the crowded room engaging mine…as if God was sending me a direct message through this humble prophet… ‘Kerrie, if you wanna get back at satan, love your neighbor.’

All this got me to think’in. What if being a shield holding warrior for the Lord means something other than using force as in spears or violence.  What if God’s weapon of choice, post Old Testament with coming of Jesus, is love, healing, restoration…gifts that flow out of a spirit led life in such a way that we're a pure reflection of our Lord? Those are tactics that Satan can’t touch, because he's got no defense against that which he doesn’t understand. He’ll never win against spiritual gifts that come from knowing God intimately. What that love looks like or how the war plays out in my life, I’m not sure.  Except that if I cling so closely to Him in my worship each day, then I should be confident that He will be represented, not me.

I’ve been asking God to show me how to listen to Him. I know He speaks ‘cause I’ve heard Him many times.  But that means being intentionally still to hear...while I’m reading the Bible, praising in song, crying out in prayer. I believe that’s the heart of why I am compelled to write; to be an out pouring of God, whose essence is temporarily molded into words that I’m confident He’ll supply. If it’s from Him, then He’ll give me the courage to be transparent in sharing those thoughts with others.

 

It’s not about me, appearances, or opinions from other folks. It’s not about Likes on FB, comments left on a particular post, or seeking admiration.  It’s about allowing His image to be paved over past ruts 'n pot holes that no longer define me. It's about honoring God.

I have an impending sense that time is short, maybe my personal time on earth, or maybe the end of time as we all know it.  But regardless, this princess warrior is answering His call and reporting for duty.

Take Off Your Shoes

There is nothing sweeter than time in the dark morning, sitting in the presence of my Papa.  It’s not easy to crawl out of my warm covers that early when I could hit the snooze.  However, the more that I take time to be with Him, the more I crave those precious moments.  So it was today.  I climbed out of bed at 5:00 am, started the caffeine drip, checked Facebook, and sat down with my coffee to pray. 

Praying for me isn’t formal, but more me speaking my thoughts, worries, or whatever comes up, to Him.  This morning I just asked God to touch me with what I read.  I’m needy right now and have told Him that I wanted every available means of communication he could give me.  It’s ok to ask that.  He’s my Father and wants to supply everything…so I asked.

I’ve been reading through the Old Testament.  Not in an organized, read-the-Bible-through-in-a-year way.  I’m just reading each day till I have a light bulb moment that speaks to my issues.   This week I’ve been following Joshua around the edges of Canaan.   I’m absolutely in awe of his trust in God as he takes over leadership from Moses and actually enters the promise land.  What faith and courage he had to move forward without his lifelong mentor and companion.  But move he did, right across the dry Jordan River bed with Jehovah God leading the way.

In chapter 5: 13-15, Joshua noticed a man with a drawn sword.  Approaching him Joshua asked if he was an enemy or ally.  Now, hear the reply… “I am the Commander-in-Chief of the Lord’s army.”  At that point, Joshua fell down on his knees.  He didn’t argue or ask for identification, but just dropped.  Joshua said, “Give me your commands.”  The Commander said “Take off your shoes, for this is holy ground.”  And Joshua did.  My face got wet after reading this.  In fact recently, every time I’ve sensed that God was near I've cried.  That’s my heart’s desire, to be so tangibly close to Him that he asks me to take off my shoes because I’m in His presence.

  

Later, I followed through with advice from a friend and went for a walk while Lydia was logged into her writing class.  The sun was blinding me without clouds to block its rays.  I resisted the urge to speed dial mom like usual, and instead, told God I needed some more one-on-one time with Him.  “Please Lord; give me something from you to hold onto today.  I can’t help that I need to be so close right now, like Joshua was while he was with the Commander-in-Chief of your army.”  My eyes started getting my face wet again and I realized that Holy Spirit was near.  “Can’t you just send me someone with a drawn sword?   Then I can take my shoes off too…  I know you aren’t ready for me to come home yet.  You’ve got work for me to do.  But I long to.  It’s what I want…more than life, to run barefoot and free in your shadow, forever.”

Between the scarf and my sun glasses I was able to cry privately without drawing attention.  After a few more seconds of quiet I heard this.  “My Word, Kerrie, is alive and sharper than any two edged sword.  I am here little one…on your walks, when you open your heart to my Word, as you lift your face to me in prayer…you don’t need a soldier with a sword.  When you invite me in to the quiet dark of your morning, be still and listen.  You'll hear me whisper…take off your shoes sweet girl, because you too, are on holy ground."

For the word of God is alive and powerful. It is sharper than the sharpest two-edged sword, cutting between soul and spirit, between joint and marrow. It exposes our innermost thoughts and desires. Hebrews 4:12