Sunday School Teacher

“I’m outta here,” she said

“What you did to me in that bed

was wrong.”

You think that I’m not strong

Enough to leave, but I am.”

And out the door she flew

With nothing but her shirt and shorts and shoes

Screen door slammed

And BAM

She knew

He came too.

This day might be her last

Could go slow or really fast

Thinking ‘bout the past

How Daddy knew

And warned her too.

“Jesus help me!” came her scream

from the bottom of something inside

Nowhere to hide

This time.

Three doors down across the street

A lady in her gown and bare feet

Heard the plea

And placed the call

Armor on and Truth in hand

She made her way to unknown land

Addressed that man,

“In the name of Jesus, I rebuke you!

Get thee back, Satan!”

Angels were singing and sirens were ringing

But he heard none of it

As he turned his anger all of it

To the lady with pink curlers in her hair

It wasn’t fair;

Life rarely is

That she should go like this.

Shaking in the aftermath

She picked up from the garden path

The woman’s book.

It was made with love and care

No words in there

Tattered and torn, meant to share.

Pages of colors bold

Followed by the story they told:

Orange is for Heaven so bright.

Yellow is for God’s perfect light.

Dark is for the sins we’ve made.

Red is for the blood He gave.

White is for our cleansing from sin.

Green is for our new life in Him.

Pink is for His free gift to share.

Purple is for the crowns we’ll wear!

First a spark and then a light

She had seen it before

Long ago as a little girl

She’d made a decision that was right

But strayed.

He was here today

Tears flowing now she prayed

And thanked her Maker

For salvation twice over

And for her Sunday School teacher

Who went to Jesus today.

Eighteen Today

Dawn is quakin'
Sleepy towns are wakin'
Some kid is shakin' in his boots
As he boards a plane bound to where freedom is just a dream
and they need him to bring some hope and build some steam
to end the nightmare of ruthless leaders
and bottom feeders
spillin' blood and squashing notions beneath their feet.

He's their genie in a bottle
Rub the lamps and pull the throttle
What three wishes will they choose?
Their own lives or
their kids' for future posterity
Or maybe it's prosperity
some seek instead

Leaving behind
Friday night lights
Where touchdowns make things right
and beans or no beans
is the biggest thing on people's minds.

Bound for barren lands,
Rabbit's foot and cross in hand
Say a prayer and breathe amen
Wipe a tear and calm the fear
Construct a facade of courage
Forge a dam to hold thoughts in reserve for later date
When the weight of third world countries
no longer rests on him.

"I'll show you"
last words to Dad
before signing his life away on the dotted line,
having no mind of what it would mean
to obey another man,
follow orders without question,
submit and surrender to a greater purpose
than being in by midnight.

Sober now, with mixed emotion
No turning back
But can't look forward

One step at a time

Breathe in

Breathe out

Breathe in

Breathe out

Count to ten

Repeat again.

Bottled Up

It seems that I only write when I feel I must because the words are about to all come out anyway.  I do that in relationships, too.  While I have been accused of being blunt, I tend to hold back on negative comments or criticisms until I feel that it will be sin to not speak up, but sometimes I still bottle up my views for fear that I will be rejected, will hurt my friend's feelings, or that I will simply be rebuffed. It is complicated, this business of when to speak and when to be silent, when to wrap it in a pretty package, and when to be plain and simple.  After all, once the words are out there is no taking them back.

In my last blog I mentioned being nearly off all anti-depressants. Well, I am there, and it is no bed of roses!  I can see that in relationships, just as in my medical care, I have to advocate for myself, if you will, to make my needs, desires, convictions known.  As much as I am tempted to think that my husband should just know what I want if he really really loves me, I cannot expect him to read my mind.  This is sooooo hard.  If I don't verbalize to him what is going on inside of me we can get into a passive-aggressive game and have lots of unfulfilled expectations.  A little vague, huh?  If it hurts me to bend over and clean the tub because of the recent surgery, I need to tell  him I need some help with that instead of playing a game to see who will clean it first.  This is a pretty simple example, but I can look around my home and see so many simple examples of lack of communication.  These things pile up literally and figuratively until it weighs down a relationship with junk.  I don't want this for my relationship with my husband, or with anyone else, for that matter.

I think I will give myself a gift of a bottle opener with an inscription that says, "pray and count to 10 before using."  Maybe this will keep me in balance.




 

healing old wounds by reopening them

This morning I went to the medical records office at the hospital where I recently had some surgery so that I could get needed reports for the new surgeon whom I will see later today.  I finally got the courage to get the records from the delivery of my second child.  Courage was needed only because the delivery was nothing short of a nightmare, leaving both me and my baby near death, save for the grace of God and the skill and quick thinking with which He equipped our doctor.

Truly, I was traumatized that day when things didn't go as planned.  Brock went into distress due to the cord wrapped around his neck, and Dr. Wood had to switch gears from the intended vaginal delivery to an emergency C-section.  When she made the skin cut she found my little baby already out of the womb, in my abdomen, my uterus completely ruptured.  Brock was blue, not breathing, limp, and had a low heart rate, minimal responses.  The Apgar score was 2 out of 10, with 10 being normal!  After resuscitation and 5 minutes of O2 his score was up to 7, and finally made it up to 8 after 10 minutes.  Meanwhile, I lost approximately 1 to 1.2 liters of blood.  Dr. Wood, bless her fast hands, stitched up my uterus and sewed up my body.

Tears stream down my cheeks now as I recall the difficulty with bonding to the child who was disinterested and wouldn't look at me.  The next few years were filled with hours long screaming tantrums which, I learned today from a pediatric Physical Therapist friend, can be caused by birth trauma.  He has been plagued by hearing difficulties, now mostly resolved, and some difficulty with learning.  Though he is very bright, consistently scoring very well on standardized tests, he lives in his own world a great deal of the time.  On the other hand, Brock can entertain himself easily with reading, Origami, science experiments and magic tricks.  We are thankful that this year he unlocked a hidden musical talent and is playing the clarinet beautifully!  We look forward to when we can afford the piano lessons he so desperately desires.  At 12 years old he seems to finally be making forward strides in regard to his social awkwardness but still struggles with an over-the-top anger problem, with outbursts way out of proportion to the stimulus.

This summer has been a tough one for our family.  I had to have surgery to repair a problem related to scar tissue from the above complications and from the later hysterectomy; my older son Brighton is in a brace due to an unstable fracture in his spine, and my husband's liver disease has been giving him some grief.  All of this has forced Brock to step up and grow up.  While I have struggled most of my life with depression, I am finally approaching being medication-free.  The Son is shining, and it is a beautiful day, indeed!

When Hope is Not Enough

Skin care company Philosophy and their many followers boast their product "Hope in a Jar" facial moisturizer.  I just love the whole concept of being able to buy "Hope in a Jar."  My last few years have been challenging, to say the least, as many friends will testify, and I could really use some "Hope in a Jar." I bought it, slathered it on my dry, parched skin, and waited for the miracle. But guess what.  "Hope" was not enough for me.  I had to go their next product, "When Hope is Not Enough."

That, I believe, is the epithet of these challenging years: "When Hope is Not Enough."  Years when while we were paying two mortgages and two sets of bills my husband was diagnosed with a rare liver disease which will eventually call for a liver transplant.  When I suffered multiple orthopedic injuries that pulled me away from work for weeks at a time.  When I was surprised with having to have what I call "The Hysterectomy from Hell."  When my oldest son was diagnosed with a spine fracture that had slipped out of place and must wear a brace-cast for three months to avoid surgery. When I was rushed screaming to the hospital and had to undergo emergency abdominal surgery to repair an intestinal blockage.  These are the years when, truly, hope is NOT enough...

Unless that hope is Jesus.  When I was lying alone in my dark hospital room in horrible pain, doctors not knowing what was complicating my recovery, I thought to myself, "This could be it.  I could die here alone in this room."  But I wasn't alone at all.  Jesus was there when my human hope was not enough.  He was there in  He was there when I returned home feeling terrible with no answers as to why I had so much pain two weeks after surgery, still afraid I might not make it twenty four hours before going back to the hospital.  And He was there when I cried out to Him for help, to calm me.  He calmed me with the Twenty Third Psalm, The Lord's Prayer, old hymns, new praise music.  He is there in the friends who selflessly prepare meals for me and my family, in the friend who came over and helped my husband clean, in my kids who do laundry and wash dishes.

I often wish I could fix everything myself.  I want to buy something at the mall that will take care of all the problems.  I want "When Hope is Not Enough"  because it means I found the solution.  But I can't.  It is not enough.  Only Jesus.

Prayer Book

I have just started into my 10th day of hospitalization and am struggling through so many issues.  As is the case for so many people who find themselves in an Emergency Room writhing in pain for one reason or another, my plate was already very full, and I didn't think one more thing was needed to further test me, to build me up in the faith, thank you very much!  I keep telling God that if He keeps filling the plate I will just become a spiritual giant of proportions the likes of which the world has never known.  God must be chuckling, because I haven't eaten a single solid meal since May 14th when I first started getting seriously sick. 

While I really am closer to departure home,  it feels as if I will be here forever.  Satan loves to step in and mess with my mind, confusing feelings for facts.  Another example:  I feel alone on the inside.  The truth is that God has told me "The LORD himself goes before you and will be with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged."  (Deuteronomy 31:8)  But I knw all too well from working with people in Physical Therapy during  times of great difficulty in their lives that the most spiritually inclined can find themselves needing encouragement from trained persons who aren't trying to fix the situation. 

It was in that vein I requested a Chaplain visit tonight.  In a book of prayers he gave me, and I have never been one to read some pre-packaged prayers, I found this one for Late at Night that expresses so well my feelings and seems to validate where I am right now:
     "...When I can't sleep, I turn to you, Holy One, because I know that you never sleep and that you will hear me.
     "I worry even though I try to trust you.  I am afraid even though I try to be brave.
     "I am surrounded by people who love me, but I feel alone.  Even though I seem calm on the outside, on the inside I am anxious.
     "With the night, you bring a stillness to the busy-ness of the day.  Bring that stillness to me, as well, that I may let go of the worry and the fear and the loneliness and the anxiety and finally fall asleep." 
     Amen and Amen!