Pictures of Hope

Hope is one of our central emotions, but we are often at a loss when asked to define it.  Many of us confuse hope with optimism, a prevailing attitude that "things turn out for the best." But hope differs from optimism.

Hope does not arise from being told to "think positively," or from hearing an overly rosy forecast.  Hope, unlike optimism, is rooted in unalloyed reality. 

Hope is the elevating feeling we experience when we see - in the mind's eye - a path to a better future.  Hope acknowledges the significant obstacles and deep pitfalls along that path.  True hope has no room for delusion.  Clear-eyed, hope gives us the courage to confront our circumstances and the capacity to surmount them.

~ from The Anatomy of Hope by Jerome Groopman, M.D.

I took the photo above during a particularly cold morning walk into the school to pick up my son.  Taken on my ipod, the quality is questionable...  it's impossible to see the frost that coated the branches or the snow crystals reflecting the light in this photo.  Even though it does not appear so in this image, in my mind's eye, it truly was a thing of beauty.  

With my ipod in hand, permit me to share the following ~ a picture journal from tonight:

Thank You and Thursdays

The hot cup of coffee, 

an answered prayer;

A kindred spirit sharing laughter 

in the midst of loss;

The symbolism of something greater 

in the most simplest of forms.

The choices we make - 

choosing joy, choosing peace;

Scraps of memories rediscovered 

though distance separates;

The kind gesture 

of a beautiful heart.

These are the things,

and this is the stuff...

Surrounded by love,

rooted in grace ~

the Blessing of

Immeasurably more.  

Still

When I came home from the salon Thursday, my eldest son said: "you look like you looked as a teenager... but better!".

Needless to say, he got the biggest brownie at dessert.

How am I doing?  Well.  Really well.  Although my medical condition has not improved, I have decided that my assessment of how I am doing is rooted more in how I am living.

In some ways, my health experience has felt like a House episode playing out over months instead of 40 minutes.  The episode isn't over yet.  The interesting thing about this condition is that, for all intents and purposes, it remains invisible and a complex mystery for the medical community to unravel.

So I'm going to let them.  Don't get me wrong, I am an active participant in pursuing my health care - I am very engaged in the process.  However, through a lengthy process, providential intervention, an amazing physician who has been actively pursuing all possibilities, and - most importantly - faith, I am finally earnestly confident in my care.

And in the waiting, the true surrender to waiting, the pivot occurred.  Peripetia happened in my heart, not in my situation.  

I am no longer analyzing, researching or assessing.  Instead, I am fascinated by where this journey has led me.  In reading In the Likeness of God, I am having revelation after revelation about the phenomenal way humans are formed.  As in the journeys I was fortunate to take in pregnancy, this illness can be an opportunity for learning, discovering and appreciating the miracle of the human body.

"Men go abroad to wonder 
at the height of mountains, 
at the huge waves of the sea, 
at the long courses of the rivers, 
at the compass of the ocean, 
at the circular motion of the stars, 
and they pass by themselves without wondering." 


~ St. Augustine.    

My perspective has also turned to the understand that there are positive effects to be celebrated even in the situations where we are - if not just seasonally - metaphorically in the dark. The study of scotobiology is the study of darkness.  It is a relatively new field of science and it "lays the foundation for understanding the importance of dark night skies, not only for humans but for all biological species."  Scotobiology is the study of the positive responses to darkness.  As described in the link, darkness is seldom absolute.

I will give you the treasures of darkness, riches stored in secret places, so that you may know that I am the LORD, the God of Israel, who summons you by name. ~Isaiah 45:3

This is about a new focus.

I'm not putting on the blinders.  Besides being impossible when facing physical pain, it just doesn't seem in character with my desire to be authentic.  Instead I am changing the way I look at things.  I've thought about it in the way of blurring my peripheral vision by wearing my glasses instead of my contacts.  In needing to shift focus, I need to move in a new direction... away from the unknowns and towards the known.  

As a wise mentor of mine told me yesterday morning, there is the ability to serve even in moments such as this.

This is about the kind of faith that can change your life.  This is a good thing.

Yes, I "will stil haf to wait"; all the same,
I am still seeking joy.
I am still living out my life.
I am still being used by God.
I am still.
I know He is God.

Peripetia

Trust your unknown future to a known God

Shared by an amazing source of encouragement, this quote has stuck with me.  I don't think any of us quite comprehend the uncertainty of the future until we face something big.

I met a coworker at the lab during one of my bloodwork appointments.  I had not seen her since my college days ended in 2010 and in the course of the conversation, she asked what I had been doing since we had last seen each other.  I tried to quickly come up with a summary of my journey... and since the timeline started with the arrival of the twins, there seemed to be a lot to catch up on.  I came home and asked my husband how he would sum it up.  He replied, "the pain, the pain - it hurts!" (this made me laugh - and still can bring a smile - particularly since he knows me so well by leaving room for me to add the punctuation).

A week ago Saturday found me in a place of set back with my condition - "the pain, the pain - it hurts!".  And in this place I realized once again how fragile I am.

How quickly I had forgotten.

I am thankful that the intensity of the pain has lessened to an ebb and flow of uncomfortable pressure.  All the same, I am frustrated by my lack of energy and the persistence of a medical condition which I cannot understand.

***

"Understanding will never bring you peace that is why I've instructed you to trust me.  Humans have a voracious appetite to figure things out to have a mastery of our lives.  We need to cease seeking mastery and start seeking our Master." [paraphrased from Sarah Young "Jesus Calling: Seeking Peace in His Presence"].

This quote comes from a phenomenal sermon in the E100 series at SPAC.  The timing of listening to this sermon (and I can say the same for the School of Faith) couldn't have been more perfect.  There are seasons in your life where "the weary days of waiting are often days that are big with spiritual destiny but they are hard to be endured." (F. B Meyer)

In these weary days of waiting - days where I feel like I've been hit by a train and am therefore am incapacitated in so many ways - I wage war with my emotions. I'm feeling the vertigo from the swing from the depths of regret to the heights of gratefulness.

***

Regret: I feel inclined to apologise.  Without a doubt, it's in my nature to apologise.  This time, the scope has a trajectory which goes a little further from that where I say "I'm sorry" when all that was needed was a polite "excuse me" as I let someone pass in the grocery aisle.

In the way I'd like to voice my regrets, I want to apologise for all those times that I haven't been able to be or be there for those who I care so much about.  I feel compelled to apologise to my husband, my young sons, my family by birth, my family by heart, and my amazing friends - for the impact of burden or of absence.  My physical condition has left me - for months - at a capacity of doing so little.  

The old version of 'me' was fueled by an energy (and, undeniably, a hot cup of strong coffee) that allowed me to swing my children into my arms, into their carseats on the way to a play excursion, and into a variety of activities that we enjoyed together.  That old version could go and do and experience.  My abilities limited, my geography restrained, I am finding joy in doing, going and experiencing within these four walls - within this ministry to my boys.

Nevertheless, coming to terms with the physical and emotional transition by accepting that I am still in one peace has been nothing less than an exercise of faith.

And, in faith, I am waiting for my peripetia.

***

Gratefulness: Already fragile, it is incredibly humbling to (yet again) accept the help that I have received from friends who have given so much while they've delegated their own tasks to come to my aid.  From going above and beyond the call of friendship to practical nurturing of my boys, these women have demonstrated an unending source of the fruit of the spirit for us.  They have cared for me, my children and my house when I have been infirm and recovering.

All the same, it is hard for an independent mother who enjoys caring for others to be on the receiving end of kindnesses, given all the kindness we've been blessed with.  From the  arrival of the twins to the beginning of this recovery, we have had love lavished on us in a thousand ways.  I grapple with my pride as much as with my weakness - my gratefulness is never eclipsed by my desire to give back; however, there are times where I am brought to tears by the goodness gift wrapped to us in the forms of gestures that mean so much.

As I have mentioned in a previous post, how can I even begin to thank them for their immeasurable kindness?

Perhaps even more beautiful than their compassion is their ability to illustrate Christianity in action to my young sons; each has poured out love in an intensely personal way to our family.

***

In one of those moments that I just needed a bit of encouragement, my current Beth Moore study guide fell open to the second last page of my book.  There I found this quote written by an unknown author:

I believe in the sun, even when it is not shining.
I believe in love, even when I do not feel it.
I believe in God, even when He is silent.

I don't understand this medical condition; I don't understand grief or loss; and most importantly, what I don't understand outweighs what I do understand.  I have grown on this journey with a new understanding of gratefulness, thankfulness, and blessings as much as I have been growing in an understanding of regret, pain, and limitations.

Perhaps the most significant understanding - and the best summary of my journey - is this:

I believe.

"You will Stil haf to wait"

A few days before Christmas Nate wrote, illustrated and compiled a book of four short stories entitled "The Best Christmas."  I am including a selection here (the facial expressions add quite a bit to the plot):

'Title Page: "The Best Christmas" dy Nate'

Final Chapter Title Page: "When will Somer come"

"When will IT Be Somer"

"You will Haf To Wait."

"You will Stil haf to Wait."

"You Will Stil haf To Wait."

"now IT is Somer now"

"ThE EnD"

"You will Stil haf to wait".  Patience: not my strong suit.  There is so much I want to do.  There is so much I want to be.  

pa·tience

 [pey-shuhns] 

noun

1.

the quality of being patient, as the bearing of provocation, annoyance, misfortune, or pain, without complaint, loss of temper, irritation, or the like.

2.

an ability or willingness to suppress restlessness or annoyance when confronted with delay: to have patience with a slow learner.

3.

quiet, steady perseverance; even-tempered care; diligence: to work with patience.

My application of the definition:
1.  Each day (in a myriad of situations) I find myself working on this quality of patience through living out love... love bears all things.   
2.  God has a lot of patience with me - the slow learner of faith.
3.  Although it may not be my strong suit, my patience is in the process of being refined into a place where I am finding myself, at most times, to be moving forward with "a quiet, steady perseverance." This is encouraging.  
{4. Patience P: an amazing light in my life who brings me great joy; a beautiful, amazing person: to spend time with Patience on New Year's Eve is a sign of great things for the year ahead and a blessing}.


As much as on one extreme (and I am choosing to focus on this end of the pendulum swing) I am bursting at the seams for gratefulness in my healing, I am still impatient.  Setbacks in energy, increases in pain and limitations of my ability where I had recently gained ground are incredibly frustrating.  


I am contented to know that Arden is on his final night shift; after he started this set working through from the 26th, I've been on a challenging path.  Despite the fact that I am so thankful to be able to spend more time caring for these amazing boys, I long for the energy that I once possessed.  The onset of the flu bug on the 26th, the break from school (4 children 24/7) and the lengthy days have kept me stretched to capacity.  


My heart frequently hurts in disappointment in having to decline an invitation, delay a dream or defer an event for another time.  As a verse in Proverbs points out, this longing of another time is a tree of life.  


It is in this season of my life that I've been weathering many storms.  I am working at walking through these storms faithfully, recognizing the need to seek God's strength continually.  In the last few days, my eyes were opened to this passage from Mark. 

He saw that they were in serious trouble, rowing hard and struggling against the wind and waves. About three o'clock in the morning Jesus came toward them, walking on the water. He intended to go past them,

Jesus was about to walk by the boat.  


Interesting.  He saw they were in serious trouble so He came out on the water to help.  He came out. on. the. water. at. three. in. the. morning.  (For those of you who know what a grammar nerd I am, you know how hard it is for me to add all those superfluous periods... but I thought writing in ALL CAPS seemed too much like shouting and that's my last intention here).  


I have to tell you: He has come through for me each and every time - when I'm in serious trouble, battling the wind and waves - in the middle of the night when the tears have created their own flood.  He comes toward us.  I thought it was profound that He came out on the water but that He was intending to go past them.  That's the God that I know: ready to save us, but respecting our free will.  It is only when we cry out (verse 49) that we can let Him in.   Another thing that amazed me is that the disciples didn't know that they were seeing Him; sometimes the hand of God is most apparent when we least expect it.


Sometimes Christ walks through our crisis dressed in the best disguise of all: ordinary events.  He tucks a miracle in the fold of His robe and sweeps in and out unnoticed. Only in retrospect do we realize that a divine visitation graced our cold, crude winter and the resurrection of spring is on its way. [...] Just to know that we are significant to God and He's willing to orchestrate a holy set-up to speak to us is monumental to every woman who ever feared she was invisible or unremarkable.

[Beth Moore, Esther: What Goes Around]  

Finishing the passage in Mark, Jesus tells them to "Take courage!  It is I.  Don't be afraid."  8 simple words, but a gift of a world of peace.

Take courage.

I am reverently taking it while seeking His face and leaving my fear behind.

Never lacking in inspiration, this path has made me live in a depth (deep calls to deep) that I've never known.

I am so grateful for joy. "Now IT is Somer Now": joy makes this January of pain, grief, and challenge summer for me.  I am bolstered by a thousand gestures of love each day.  In some of the hardest moments, music often pulls me through: Restless and Long Way Home, and - for something completely different - Here in this moment are on my playlist.  The encouragement I receive from my sorority of faithful loved ones is incredible.  There are blessings upon blessings - miracles - in each and every day.

It is in the middle of the physical pain that I am humbly aware once again of God's providence.  It is in the middle of pure emotional collapse that I recognize that fragile transparency that I am called to.  It is in the middle of the longest, loneliest night - when it is most hardest to praise Him - that whilst I'm persevering despite frailty, I feel His presence the most.

{See?  My nerdy grammar ways are further revealed: I used whilst in the blog :).}

If it is through a wealth of experience that we are enriched with the capacity to love in extraordinary ways...
if it is through trial that our faith transforms from a philosophy into a way of living...
if it is through illness and pain that our lives gain purpose and perspective...
and if it is through winter that we learn patience and a appreciation for the summer that comes, I can say for certain that, for me, it is well worth the wait.

Choices

res·o·lu·tion 1. The state or quality of being resolute; firm determination. 2. A resolving to do something. 3. A course of action determined or decided on. choice 1. The act of choosing; selection. 2. The power, right, or liberty to choose; option. 3. One that is chosen. 4. A number or variety from which to choose. 5. The best or most preferable part. 6. Care in choosing. 7. An alternative.

It was many years ago that I had resolved not to make resolutions on the eve of a new year.  Instead my goal was to make choices.  Where resolutions are firm, choices allow for compassion.  I knew that I would still be making choices for big picture planning as I went along but, more importantly, I'd be making conscious choices for each and every moment.

This journey has allowed me the ability to re-evaluate the choices which are important to me.  My decisions these days are often rooted in my humble attempts to live a purpose-driven life.  There are threads of this purpose woven throughout my journeys which means that my life is (and I am) a continual work in progress.  

Healing is also a work in progress.  However, despite having still a way to go, I am in awe to find myself in such a place of functional health.  In God's healing, my functionality has increased to a place of what I consider miraculous ability: the strength (and extra hands) He has given me have helped me even though I've been feeling overextended to get through the sicknesses of these four little boys while Arden has been working lengthy days and nights.  I choose to be in a place of thankfulness.

I am thankful for choice.  I find myself making a lot of little choices that are ending up to be significant on the big picture.  There is freedom in letting go, paring down and eliminating those little things and habits that have hindered me.  They have to go.  I'm no longer collecting anything that holds me back from living my primary purpose of living a life of love.  Cheesy, I know... but I believe it.

I'm not writing this post as an entry against resolutions; in fact, I look at resolutions as decisions as to where we are going to place our love.  Name a resolution, I'll track the source back to love.  A lot of our resolutions are designed for a positive conclusion.  For example, taking the top ten resolutions here, relationship love is at the core of 'wanting to spend more time with family and friends' or a love for healthy living and a love for self is rooted in 'wanting to get fit'.

In making choices, I am making the decision to look at the means for change (love) rather than the perceived result.

All the same, resolutions don't allow for us to change in big ways. When we're too rigid in our thinking, we limit our potential which means that we can't transform our lives.  Ultimately, we change the manifestation but not the heart of the matter.  I think that we are often in situations where we feel that the circumstances are too much for us and therefore, living our lives the way we want to - in freedom, in love - is not possible.  These ideals are something to be invested in as an after thought or put off until... well, later.  If it's something we can have after we've done everything else we've got to do then we're a few steps ahead.  We'll get to it down the road when we get things together; when it's less busy; when we have more resources.

But one of the beauties of life is that we never get things all together.  This is a good thing because if we ever feel that we've got it together, we stop growing.  We never get less busy the way we expect we will and when we have more resources we may just find that we don't have more time.  What if our busyness is distracting us from a bigger plan for our lives?  I'm writing this because I feel that it is so essential to think about it and I'm writing it from a point of view of someone who has traveled there and back again.  This moment is all about choice: live right now.  Love right now.

If given every choice, how would you live this next year out?   It's not about considering what you would do but rather how you would live.

I'm discovering through my continued journey of faith and discovery that love and freedom and grace can be a way of life.  That means that I can deal with situations which make me envision a Gary Larson Far Side box drawn around them and still persevere.

It may not always be pretty but it is a mess-iful, bountiful, miraculous and wonderful life.

This photo represents so many miracles to me (fodder for another post, another time).

But those who plan what is good find love and faithfulness ~ Proverbs 14:22b

Wonder

I thank you God for this most amazing day, for the leaping greenly spirits of trees, and for the blue dream of sky and for everything which is natural, which is infinite, which is yes. 

--e.e. cummings

Christmas this year is unlike any I've ever celebrated before.  In the process of this journey, the depth and breadth of my experience has transformed my perspective in both the small moments and significant ones.

Although there is much that I wrestle with on many levels, I recognize with a great deal of clarity that trials bring an understanding of what is most important in a life.

From this, I now see that despite my desire in the past to demonstrate how much I cared through words, gestures and tokens, the essence of the gifts is what has the biggest impact.

It's not that I leave the language of gifts behind; rather the pursuit of gifting through words, gestures and tokens is still something that that I think is even more significant to me now as I see how much it can make a difference.  However, I have come to the recognition that the catalyst and the meaning behind the gift is more essential than I had ever realized.

In this vein - and to parallel the three gifts brought to the king - I'd like to give to you the three gifts of Peace, Love and Joy this Christmas.  All I ask is that you consider the catalyst, ponder the meaning and embrace the perspective - even for a moment in the midst of the Christmas celebrations.

Peace: Listening to the song Better Days, forgive.

Love: Read 1 Corinthians 13... you've surely heard it before; reflect on unconditional love... and then find innumerable ways to embrace and extend it.

Joy: After walking through these photos of the Thickwood trail from a December afternoon, seek the wonder that is found on your path... on your journey.

People usually consider walking on water or in thin air a miracle. But I think the real miracle is not to walk either on water or in thin air, but to walk on earth. 
Every day we are engaged in a miracle which we don't even recognize: a blue sky, white clouds, green leaves, the black, curious eyes of a child -- our own two eyes. 
All is a miracle.
--Thich Nhat Hanh

Love. Peace. Joy.

Merry Christmas.

Love One Another

Yesterday was another Sunday in advent which meant another candle to light on our advent wreath.  I love the preparations for Christmas and I love singing "O Come All Ye Faithful" off-key with four little boys (none of them know the words but it's adorable to see them all trying to add to the chorus) as we light our purple candles.

In last week's confusion of Sunday night pre-dinner chaos, I quickly read off 'love' as the theme for week 2 of advent.   Somehow as the week progressed I realized that in fact 'love' is traditionally reserved for week 4.  All the same, I was so thankful for my error.

The week did have some challenges.  However, as Beth Moore so aptly points out, we often don't have a choice about what we face but we do have a choice about how we are going to go through it.  Meditating on love - family love, friendship love, and most importantly for me, God's love - this week proved important as I struggled through a minor but frustrating time with my health.

***
Christmas.  Stories of love.  Thankfulness.

I have been immeasurably blessed during this season of my life; I struggle with translating the depth of my gratitude.  This doesn't make sense to me when I have such a love of writing... surely I'd have a way to be able to say 'thank you'. And yet I find myself unable to express this gratefulness.

I struggle to tell someone that her baking brought me to a place of indescribable thankfulness.  Who knew a baked good could flood a heart with joy?  For it's not just about a cookie, but rather it's about the love behind it... which then leads me to ask: how can I return the joy?  I know that the person who has blessed me looks for nothing in return - but I feel compelled to demonstrate the significance it has had in my life.  

Lacking in a method (though I have considered writing out a lengthy list of thankfulness here and I will most certainly try to get working on those thank you notes), I have been attempting to redesign the thankfulness into blessing others - propelling me to love in ways I never thought possible.

I suppose that's one of the things that amazes me the most about this experience; just when I thought I couldn't possibly be blessed any more, I am inundated by love.  Love from those closest to me and love from friends of friends of friends.  And that love then  flows into the lives of the four little boys in my care and then gets transferred out into the world.  How amazing is that?

I have realized that the more I tear down walls, the more I yield to love.  And the more I yield to love - it is a humbling, amazing experience - the more I am able to love.

***

Things are continually in flux.  I am more aware of the ebb and flow of seasons - and the fact that there is a time for everything - more now than ever before.  Meaningfulness becomes essential:

Family.  Friendships.  Loyalty.  Fidelity.  Celebrations.  Love.

You know that sensation when you truly connect with someone?  When you are in the middle of a conversation and you inherently know that you have found your kindred spirit?  Have you ever known that a friend is so much more than a friend?  That when you introduce her that you feel like the way to describe your connection as 'friend' seems wildly inadequate?  I have.  Not only am I blessed with a sister by birth, I have had the blessing of some incredibly phenomenal women who I'd be honoured to introduce as my sisters.

I have had the opportunity to grow close to women - each whose value is immeasurable.  I wish I could write about each individual; these women - these friendships - are amazing.  I am honoured to know them in a close relationship that has no term to describe it.  I have shared their laughter and their tears - and they mine - and side-by-side we have weathered long winters and basked in summer sunlight as we walked together; we have watched our children grow; we have encouraged and supported one another; we have been witnesses to each others' lives as they've moved through lows and highs.

I can tell you that neither time nor distance apart will ever change the way I feel about the kindred spirits in my life.  I know this from the amazing women who I am still close with regardless of geographical distance that separates regardless of how often we talk.  It's a form of sympatico.

So how do you express that succinctly?  I may have a wordsmith perspective, but I truly lack the words.

***
The foundations of my faith - in particular regarding the principles of love - have taught me that in the journey, it's not about 'what' but rather about 'who'.

I am discovering how love runs in a depth and a breadth that I never knew was possible.

***

Saturday was a 'snow day' for us... and it was a memorable trip to the park - the first for me since August.  It was Andrew & Samuel's first earnest snow fun.

I never thought I could love snow so much.  How I love these moments... and these boys!

I loved seeing these little birds in flight on my way home... the symbolism of the sparrow has been such a comfort to me during my healing.

***

On the health level, my world is pretty small these days.  My 'circuit' is primarily from home to bloodwork to picking up John at school and back home.  I am so thankful for the dear friends who come over twice a week to help with the twins.  

Friday night I was comforted after seeing the doctor earlier in the day.  I had been struggling for two weeks with a persistent dry cough that had felt suffocating as, with limited lung capacity, I just couldn't kick it until I had taken the prescribed bronchodilator (it dilates the bronchi).  Having the weight lifted off my chest - first earlier in the day with a hand lovingly placed and prayer offered up - and then next with this inhaler was an unbelievable feeling of freedom.

I was elated.

Saturday night around midnight found me back three steps - grappling to find breath and feeling the weight of the pain nearly unbearable.  Despite the inhaler, the cough medicine, and prayer, I laid awake searching for relief.

And I suppose that's where I came to accept the conclusion with regards to my lungs.  On one hand, I need to be aware that it will be a year's worth of recovery from the initial incident; on the other hand, I need to be able to move forward with courage no longer meditating on the fact that I have an unexplainable blood condition.

We're often prepared for what we need to face.  On Thursday night, my Beth Moore message from Esther presented the fact that it is only through courage that I will continue to move forward on this journey.  The quote about how "walking in the shadow of death was as perilous as dying" hit home for me; in this experience, I have been freed from the fear of death.  Further, in facing my fears about my condition, I choose to move forward courageously.  

In courage, I am choosing to live my life of love out loud.