Faced with a dilemma, what is right?
I wonder do I act, or just hold tight?
Godly wisdom is all I seek.
The answer is not the one I need.
"To do" that's the way I'm lead.
When "not to do" was in my head.
I fight the urge but God wins out.
Now I'm filled with lots of doubt.
Why me Lord? Ask someone else today.
But His answer is clear and so I obey.
My task now done it hurt to do.
No glory for me, I turn to You.
God be honored use this for good.
Released to you - its all soul food.
Trust the Lord with eternity.
These are the things I pray for me.
WELCOME!
T - i - double G - grrrr
April 16, 2009
April 13, 2009
The dream
So I lost my voice and found out how much I need something that I take for granted. Then that night I had this dream.
I can't remember most of it. But I remember the lesson. I was wandering around this city with my family (husband and kids) when everything started to change and get complicated. One by one my family left me. They said they would be back but never did return. I had a purse and other things but someone robbed me and took it all. Except for one dollar. They told me to leave and so I just started wandering around. I was crying and frightened. All I had was the cloths I was wearing and that one dollar bill. Everything important to me was gone. Somehow I knew it was God who took it all. It was so difficult to comprehend what I was feeling at that moment but I guess helplessness comes to mind.
I woke up still uneasy about the dream. I thought that maybe is was due to having lost my voice. But I found that over the next few days I would often reflect back on this dream and the feelings I had during it. Feelings that are difficult to find words to express. Someone who once had it all and now had nothing could probably understand what it felt like. I'm sure that Job from the Bible knew.
The next three days were spent in the rehab center with my in-laws. My father-in-law is 88 and has many health issues. Day one was hard as he was so drugged up he didn't even know who we were. Day two we had them reduce the pain meds and he was only slightly better. I think he knew we were there but communicating with us was not possible. He also was unable to remain awake or complete a sentence. At the end of day we (the family) said to take him off all the narcotics he was on since we didn't even recognize him anymore. Day three we could see signs of his personality coming back to us. He will most likely never go back home to his apartment. He will need medical care for whatever remaining days God gives him.
As I watched him I reflected on the long life this man has had. I remember that he served in WWII, skiing the border of Alaska - protected America. Frost bite and the cold took its toll on this man but he survived and returned home to get a job, a wife, and raise of family of five. For decades he worked in a factory job that also took its toll on his body. Now at the age of 88 he sits in this wheelchair unable to lift his head from the slumped over position we are getting used to seeing.
Simple tasks are no longer possible for him. He has had everything taken away from him. He can't walk, he needs help to eat, he can't focus on things, even simple tasks like blowing his nose are challenging. And when he looks at his wife of over 60 years you can see the sadness in his eyes as you realize that he understands his condition and knows he will always need someones help to eat. Quietly he whispers to her "I'm tired." Again and again I hear him whisper this to her. He doesn't mean physically tired even though that small sentence took a lot of energy for him to say. He has been battling strong and hard for over 10 years now. A constant war with pain that he may not have the ability to keep fighting.
My heart hurts as I hold back tears and wish growing old didn't have to include these types of difficulties. Yet, I walk the halls of the rehab center and see many many elderly men and women all fighting their own private war. I realize that the feelings I can't find words to express from my dream may slightly be what my father-in-law is feeling. He tries to express it at times but he is from a generation where men did not show weakness.
We watch as the physical therapist pushes him to but one cup on another. A small task but we celebrate when he accomplishes it. He looks over at us and you know that he knows how embarassing this is. And it is only one of the minor things that causes him embarassment these days. I wonder what he is thinking. Is he thinking that you celebrate when a 3 year old places cups in the right order and can stack them one on the other, not 88 year old men?
He looks at his wife, she looks back, and the words that are unsaid between the two of them could fill an entire novel. Again, I want to cry but I know if I do he will know that I know too much; so I hold my tears and wait until later when I am alone. I pray and am not sure what to even ask for so I ask for nothing.
Later it comes to me and I ask God to please find a way, any way, to give this dignified man some sense of dignity. It doesn't seem like much to ask for but it does seem like it is something only God could provide him at this point.
I'm left to wonder if the loss of my voice and the dream from the other night were gifts to me so that I would observe more and be more in tune to what my in-laws might be going through. I'm sure that when they were in their 20's and newly married they had dreams for their old age that didn't include what they are now living. My dream was just that, a dream. What I felt as a result of that dream was just a tiny sampling of what they must be experiencing and feeling.
My voice is back now, not fully normal but on its way to being what it once was. Their lives will never be the same again. Dear Heavenly Father, please show them Your infinite mercy. AMEN
I can't remember most of it. But I remember the lesson. I was wandering around this city with my family (husband and kids) when everything started to change and get complicated. One by one my family left me. They said they would be back but never did return. I had a purse and other things but someone robbed me and took it all. Except for one dollar. They told me to leave and so I just started wandering around. I was crying and frightened. All I had was the cloths I was wearing and that one dollar bill. Everything important to me was gone. Somehow I knew it was God who took it all. It was so difficult to comprehend what I was feeling at that moment but I guess helplessness comes to mind.
I woke up still uneasy about the dream. I thought that maybe is was due to having lost my voice. But I found that over the next few days I would often reflect back on this dream and the feelings I had during it. Feelings that are difficult to find words to express. Someone who once had it all and now had nothing could probably understand what it felt like. I'm sure that Job from the Bible knew.
The next three days were spent in the rehab center with my in-laws. My father-in-law is 88 and has many health issues. Day one was hard as he was so drugged up he didn't even know who we were. Day two we had them reduce the pain meds and he was only slightly better. I think he knew we were there but communicating with us was not possible. He also was unable to remain awake or complete a sentence. At the end of day we (the family) said to take him off all the narcotics he was on since we didn't even recognize him anymore. Day three we could see signs of his personality coming back to us. He will most likely never go back home to his apartment. He will need medical care for whatever remaining days God gives him.
As I watched him I reflected on the long life this man has had. I remember that he served in WWII, skiing the border of Alaska - protected America. Frost bite and the cold took its toll on this man but he survived and returned home to get a job, a wife, and raise of family of five. For decades he worked in a factory job that also took its toll on his body. Now at the age of 88 he sits in this wheelchair unable to lift his head from the slumped over position we are getting used to seeing.
Simple tasks are no longer possible for him. He has had everything taken away from him. He can't walk, he needs help to eat, he can't focus on things, even simple tasks like blowing his nose are challenging. And when he looks at his wife of over 60 years you can see the sadness in his eyes as you realize that he understands his condition and knows he will always need someones help to eat. Quietly he whispers to her "I'm tired." Again and again I hear him whisper this to her. He doesn't mean physically tired even though that small sentence took a lot of energy for him to say. He has been battling strong and hard for over 10 years now. A constant war with pain that he may not have the ability to keep fighting.
My heart hurts as I hold back tears and wish growing old didn't have to include these types of difficulties. Yet, I walk the halls of the rehab center and see many many elderly men and women all fighting their own private war. I realize that the feelings I can't find words to express from my dream may slightly be what my father-in-law is feeling. He tries to express it at times but he is from a generation where men did not show weakness.
We watch as the physical therapist pushes him to but one cup on another. A small task but we celebrate when he accomplishes it. He looks over at us and you know that he knows how embarassing this is. And it is only one of the minor things that causes him embarassment these days. I wonder what he is thinking. Is he thinking that you celebrate when a 3 year old places cups in the right order and can stack them one on the other, not 88 year old men?
He looks at his wife, she looks back, and the words that are unsaid between the two of them could fill an entire novel. Again, I want to cry but I know if I do he will know that I know too much; so I hold my tears and wait until later when I am alone. I pray and am not sure what to even ask for so I ask for nothing.
Later it comes to me and I ask God to please find a way, any way, to give this dignified man some sense of dignity. It doesn't seem like much to ask for but it does seem like it is something only God could provide him at this point.
I'm left to wonder if the loss of my voice and the dream from the other night were gifts to me so that I would observe more and be more in tune to what my in-laws might be going through. I'm sure that when they were in their 20's and newly married they had dreams for their old age that didn't include what they are now living. My dream was just that, a dream. What I felt as a result of that dream was just a tiny sampling of what they must be experiencing and feeling.
My voice is back now, not fully normal but on its way to being what it once was. Their lives will never be the same again. Dear Heavenly Father, please show them Your infinite mercy. AMEN
April 12, 2009
Mute
They say "you don't know what you have until it is gone". Gone is my voice, my friend, my ability to share all the many words that show up in my head. It's been 14 hours since I woke up and found out that my vocal cords had decided to take some time off. Vacation? I don't know. It has been a long day without the ability to communicate with language.
There are some noises that still come out. When I cough for instance. Ironically I found that I can still say "shhhhh" which doesn't come in handy too much. I had no idea how much I have to say. It is when you can't talk that you find out how much you really wish you could talk.
It reminded me of a recent meeting I had with a person who is in a world of hurt. She is heartbroken and there is very little comfort that I had for her. Her pain is deep and the wound is at the soul level. She knows God exists but has no interest in discussing matters of the soul. So we talked and stayed at the surface level. I prayed as we spoke and asked God for wisdom on how to share Him with her. Each time I spoke of God it was almost as if you could see the words fall from my mouth right to the floor.
She didn't seem to even hear them and had ignored each opening I offered. All I could think was that I was holding this incredible treasure in my hands, right in front of her, and she could see it but did not want it. It was as if she saw it but decided there might be something better out there and if she took it she might miss a better treasure that might exist somewhere. All the time I'm thinking, "THIS IS IT! This is THE treasure you are looking for. All you have to do is accept it." But she passed on it and left.
Back to my inability to speak. There are these precious thoughts in my head, pearls of wisdom, and yet they are trapped there and I can't share them. Sometimes I can manage a few words but they come out in an almost inaudible whisper. My sweet husband works hard to hear and understand what I need. I try to remember some of the sign language I learned years ago but why. No one around me will understand the signs. I manage to say "thank you" in sign language to a kind waitress and I think she maybe knew what I was saying. This small recognition from a stranger gives me a little hope.
So I drive the car for nine hours without being able to yell when someone cuts me off. Without being able to have a conversation with my husband. Without being able to sing out loud to my favorite songs. It was a very long trip. We arrive in WI to see family. We are at the rehab center and I can't even say "hi" to my dear father-in-law who may be in the last few days of his life. My heart hurts as I can't answer the many questions family ask, "how are the kids?", "how is your precious grandchild?", and even "are you okay?".
No I am silent and listen as my husband explains I can't talk and answers the questions in words I wouldn't have used. I am sad and think about my good friend Kiersten. I see her in my minds eye looking right at me, putting a finger to her lips and saying "hmmmm".
I know that that means. That is always her way of saying, "wonder what God is teaching you here". Which I have now been asking myself for 14 hours and have found no answer. The Bible verse "be still and know that I am God" comes to mind. Well perhaps being silent is not the same as being still. Actually I would have to say it absolutely is not the same thing.
Soon I will going to bed. I wonder if speech will return to me in the morning. I pray it will.
Written Thursday evening 4/9/09
There are some noises that still come out. When I cough for instance. Ironically I found that I can still say "shhhhh" which doesn't come in handy too much. I had no idea how much I have to say. It is when you can't talk that you find out how much you really wish you could talk.
It reminded me of a recent meeting I had with a person who is in a world of hurt. She is heartbroken and there is very little comfort that I had for her. Her pain is deep and the wound is at the soul level. She knows God exists but has no interest in discussing matters of the soul. So we talked and stayed at the surface level. I prayed as we spoke and asked God for wisdom on how to share Him with her. Each time I spoke of God it was almost as if you could see the words fall from my mouth right to the floor.
She didn't seem to even hear them and had ignored each opening I offered. All I could think was that I was holding this incredible treasure in my hands, right in front of her, and she could see it but did not want it. It was as if she saw it but decided there might be something better out there and if she took it she might miss a better treasure that might exist somewhere. All the time I'm thinking, "THIS IS IT! This is THE treasure you are looking for. All you have to do is accept it." But she passed on it and left.
Back to my inability to speak. There are these precious thoughts in my head, pearls of wisdom, and yet they are trapped there and I can't share them. Sometimes I can manage a few words but they come out in an almost inaudible whisper. My sweet husband works hard to hear and understand what I need. I try to remember some of the sign language I learned years ago but why. No one around me will understand the signs. I manage to say "thank you" in sign language to a kind waitress and I think she maybe knew what I was saying. This small recognition from a stranger gives me a little hope.
So I drive the car for nine hours without being able to yell when someone cuts me off. Without being able to have a conversation with my husband. Without being able to sing out loud to my favorite songs. It was a very long trip. We arrive in WI to see family. We are at the rehab center and I can't even say "hi" to my dear father-in-law who may be in the last few days of his life. My heart hurts as I can't answer the many questions family ask, "how are the kids?", "how is your precious grandchild?", and even "are you okay?".
No I am silent and listen as my husband explains I can't talk and answers the questions in words I wouldn't have used. I am sad and think about my good friend Kiersten. I see her in my minds eye looking right at me, putting a finger to her lips and saying "hmmmm".
I know that that means. That is always her way of saying, "wonder what God is teaching you here". Which I have now been asking myself for 14 hours and have found no answer. The Bible verse "be still and know that I am God" comes to mind. Well perhaps being silent is not the same as being still. Actually I would have to say it absolutely is not the same thing.
Soon I will going to bed. I wonder if speech will return to me in the morning. I pray it will.
Written Thursday evening 4/9/09
April 3, 2009
The Tree - Easter 2009
The tree, the tree, the mysterious tree.
What does it hold for you and me?
Was Christ nailed there or just a man?
Just history or the Master's plan?
How could a tree hold such pain?
Why would God die for other's shame?
That tree, that tree, that blood stained tree.
Why would He die for you and me?
Christ left heaven and all it holds.
Left the crystal sea and streets of gold.
Heaven with angels all around.
Gone now, Christ is earthly bound.
That tree, that tree, that infamous tree.
Held our Lord for all to see.
Pain and death, they hung Him there.
Soldiers watched, didn't care.
Yet, Christ chose to stay upon that cross.
Chose to suffer and die for the lost.
Nailed to that tree is where he died.
Had power to leave but never tried.
That tree, that tree, that eternal tree.
Twas love that held him to that tree.
The tree, the tree, that wonderful tree.
Designed by God for you and me.
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