It’s Good Friday. A day Christians reflect and remember. A day to consider and contemplate. It’s a day to rejoice, because without the cross there would be no salvation. Without the cross there wouldn’t be an empty tomb. Without the empty tomb there wouldn’t be a resurrection. Because of the resurrection, death has been defeated. Because He lives, we will too … forever!
It didn’t end at the cross. It only began there.
It’s Friday but Sunday is coming.
Happy Easter!
Blessings,
I sat at the lake watching the waves crash against the breakwater
Surrounded by the wilderness of winter, the lake shook violently
The angry wind grabbed ahold of the water pushing it forward
Relentlessly tossing it in my direction on the shore
I was mezmerized by the force that couldn’t be controlled
Sometimes lately I feel like I’m out in the middle of that big lake
Being tossed to and fro, back and forth, buffeted by the force of a storm
I’d like to go back to an easier place, I thought
But I caught myself and steadied my thoughts. I can’t go back, not even to yesterday
I knew that deep in my soul. And then I heard a quiet voice
It was The Still Small Voice speaking to my soul
“The only way is forward. Adjust your sails.”
There’s really not many new truths to learn in this wilderness storm
Only a repositioning, a growing deeper in lessons learned through other storms
I cannot control the way the wind is blowing
The way it’s pushing the water into giant, forceful waves
I can allow the fatigue, the weariness to undo me
Let my hope turn to despair and succumb to the storm
Give it permission to drown me in oppressive thoughts
Or I can choose to adjust my sails and catch the powerful breath of God
And allow His Holy Spirit to aid in moving me forward
I will not focus on the waves, the wind, the storm
I will adjust my sails
Blessings,
*My photo was taken on the shore of Lake Michigan
One of my writing instructors, from long ago, often quoted Mark Twain. She’d say, “Write what you know.”
There’s wisdom in that. We really can’t write what we don’t already know. Even fantasy and fiction draws from our own life experiences.
I’ve been at a loss for words lately. I know things. I have stories to share but they’re obstructed.
Is there a creative roto-router? You know…something I can use to loosen up and smooth out this damed up, constricted pathway that hinders my words?
Write what you know…
All I know is what is happening within the four walls of my home.
It’s been a difficult 6 months here. If you’ve been reading my blog, especially pre 2018 and before I took a 4 year hiatus from this community, you know about the medical journey my husband, Bob, has been on and my role as his caregiver.
The last month has presented some new challenges for us. One particular hard day in December, Bob sat on the sofa struggling to breathe. I walked over to reposition him and I tripped over his oxygen tubing. He’s never needed oxygen before so this is a new fixture in our home. My foot caught the tube and before I knew it I was flying across our living room and landed on both of my knees. The hardwood flooring didn’t cushion the blow.
I sat there and wept, criticizing myself for being so careless. Then Bob wept. We were both exhausted. Thankfully I didn’t break anything and when I managed to get up, I grabbed my Bible and sobbed, we need to pray, Bob.
As I walked toward him a 3×5 card fell out of my bible. On it were the words:
So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand. Isaiah 41:10
It’s a familiar verse that has helped Bob and me through some tough spots over the past 6 years
I hadn’t read it recently but it was just what I needed…what we both needed.
Bob said, “That’s God. He’s letting us know that we’re not alone.”
Two days later we received a card from my daughter-in-law’s aunt. We’ve only met her once but she sent cards to us after Bob’s bone marrow transplant and again after his open heart surgeries.
This one was precious. She wrote a lovely hand written note saying she was thinking about both of us and that our journey helped her and her husband stay positive during his journey through cancer. Sadly, he passed away last year.
At the end of her note she shared her favorite verse that she clung to and recited throughout the day to stay calm and hopeful during the most difficult days of her husband’s battle. It was the same verse that fell out of my Bible … Isaiah 41:10.
So this is what I know. God is listening to our prayers. He’s still with us in this struggle and telling us not to be afraid.
Blessings,
O Come, O Come, Emmanuel, I sang as I lit the candles on my table.
I noticed the E had slipped off my peace sign. As I went to straighten it, still singing the words of that familiar Christmas carol, I thought about how the E in PEACE could represent Emmanuel.
There’s no real peace without him.
No peace in our hearts.
No peace in our relationships.
No peace in our world.
No real or lasting peace can be found anywhere else ~ O come, O come Emmanuel.
We often talk about that first Christmas and the gift we received through the babe in the manger.
The perfect gift given that no other gift could ever outdo or outshine.
Emmanuel: God with us.
As I fixed the E, I thought about how I was bringing (or not bringing) Emmanuel into my family, my relationships, my little corner of the world and beyond.
I don’t want to just receive the gift. I want to give the gift.
But I know I can’t humanly do that unless I invite the gift into my own life and not just once but everyday. O come, O come Emmanuel.
I need him here, now … right where I am.
Bob and I have conversations about this as he struggles with his health. We’ve talked about how we need Emmanuel to come daily into our situation. We have sung or just recited those words as a prayer often through the month of December… O come, O come Emmanuel. Here now. In this present moment. God with us. Emmanuel.
We’ve also examined ourselves in the days leading up to Christmas to make sure (as far as it depends on us) that we have given the gift of peace to others in our lives, offering forgiveness, asking for forgiveness and extending grace and love to others. O come, O come Emmanuel.
The broken parts of the world around us can only be mended as we carry the light into the dark. Emmanuel, the light in us leads the way.
These are the gifts that mean the most to us this year. The gifts we will give and hope to receive.
How about you? What gifts can you give to others? How can you bring Emmanuel into your life and into your relationships this Christmas? Real peace comes from the Prince of Peace. It’s that settled feeling deep in our souls that we are right with God and others.
Some gifts can only be wrapped in love and given in peace.
Blessings,
Me: God, I’m angry. I need help dealing with this.
God: You’re not really angry.
Me: What? You are all knowing. You see me, know the circumstances I’m facing and you’re telling me I’m not angry?
God: You don’t have to hide your feelings from me. I want you to be vulnerable and authentic.
Me: Huh? I am being vulnerable.
God: Today you finally stopped carrying this alone and brought it to me for help.
Me: Yes, I need help with this anger.
God: So why are you angry?
Me: You know how I’ve been hurt in that relationship. There’s so much that I don’t understand and after all these years of friendship to be treated like an enemy is hurtful and makes me sad. I tried to reach out to talk but she shut the door on all communication.
God: Ah, so you’re hurt and sad? Have you read Psalm 55: 12-14?
If an enemy were insulting me, I could endure it; if a foe were raising himself against me, I could hide from him. But it is you, a man like myself, my companion, my close friend, with whom I once enjoyed sweet fellowship as we walked with the throng at the house of God. Psalm 55: 12-14
Me: Tears flow …
God: My door is always open to you. Read Matthew 5: 3-4 and mediate on those verses for awhile.
I come before the Lord empty.
Spiritually I’m destitute. I’m not strong enough in my own strength to handle this. I need Him. I open my bible to Matthew 5: 3-4:
Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.
There’s no room for anger, unforgiveness or pride, not even a little wiggle room.
I humble myself, I’m truthful about who I am and what I’m feeling.
Lacking what I need, I open my hands. I’m ready to receive.
This is my vulnerable place.
My mind flashes back to when I first came to Jesus years ago. I was finally truthful with Him about who I was. That was the door to salvation.
He swung open the door and welcomed me in and here in this present moment He does the same.
That vulnerability that brings me to God comes through what the Bible refers to as lament.
Lament means: “To express sorrow, regret, or unhappiness about something.” Or: “A passionate expression of grief or sorrow.”
Jesus’ first sermon goes counter culturally to what our world says we need in order to be fulfilled and lamenting seems weak.
But God shows me, in the first beatitude, that being poor in spirit brings me blessing and that His kingdom is mine.
I read it again: “Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven”. Matthew 5:3
That’s present tense. That means right here; right now.
Honest lament and being truthful with God is the doorway into His presence and that doorway leads to His kingdom … on earth as it is in Heaven.
I share my hurt, sorrow, confusion, grief and I am transported above this painful circumstance.
I’m free to grieve. I’m free to be vulnerable. It’s ok to not be ok when I’m in His presence.
I mourn my loss. I read Matthew 5:4 again. “Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted”.
I am comforted, at peace and spiritually full. This is what it means to be blessed.
Since my husband, Bob, became critically ill 6 years ago, I’ve been referred to as his anchor. Mostly by his medical care teams and by his friends whom he confides in about what direction my role has taken in our marriage.
Being a caregiver to a spouse who has been hospitalized at least 12 times in 6 years with many of them being 1-4 week hospital stays has been daunting.
At the beginning of this journey, I knew that the only way that I was going to be able to fulfill my calling as Bob’s caregiver was to make sure that I took care of myself as well.
That becomes difficult when you feel the pressure to be the anchor of the family. The one who keeps the ship (so to speak) stable, secure, supported and free from floating erratically in the wind of the storm, keeping it in our safe harbor protected from invaders … or in our case, pathogens that can infiltrate the weak and vulnerable one on board.
The anchor is lifted when we have to sail to another medical procedure, treatment or check up and anchor in that harbor until it’s time to return to the safety of our home. Anchor down. Our life once again lived in our isolated stable environment. It takes its toll at times to be the support in turbulent times.
God knew long before I knew that this was going to be a difficult storm. One that would not be over quickly or easily and that Bob would be on deaths doorstep several times and I would be called upon to buoy him up and hold our ship steady. Miraculously his life has been spared time and time again and most recently when a palliative care/hospice physician released him from his care with the words, “Not time yet.” God knew and His plan prevails. How grateful I am to still have Bob here with me.
At the outset of his illness I knew that part of taking care of myself was remembering that I wasn’t capable, in my own strength, to be an anchor. It was too heavy for me. When I tried, when I became overwhelmed, I needed someone to help lighten the load. God provided everything that I needed in Jesus and through the harshness of the forces coming against us He became enough. He is still enough …
Enough, enough, enough…He is always enough.
And definitely enough to help me take on this assignment with grace for such a time as this. I feel deep in my soul that this is my best work. A deeply spiritual work. A job here on earth with remarkable meaning and purpose. A holy work. This job of taking care of someone who relies on me as I rely on God is truly holy work. I have to be mindful of this daily and to practice the presence of my Lord and talk to him throughout the day and not just during my designated prayer times. He is the anchor of hope and the anchor of storms.
That’s not to say Bob doesn’t rely on God. He does. I could never take that number one place in his life. Nor would he want me to. Bob has a solid faith, his soul is healthy and strong but his body is weak. Our anchor, our God, our all in all, is the one anchoring our lives in this storm.
Blessings,
Nancy
It was a few months into the global pandemic and her husband left her for another woman. With a wounded heart and two young children holding onto each of her hands, she tried to muster up the strength to move forward.
Then came her cancer diagnosis. Suddenly the path ahead became a mountain to scale.
It was as if she was traveling through an ash heap of burnt up memories, promises and lost dreams.
Surgery, radiation, ongoing treatment and sorrow filled her days and I imagine trying to be strong for her children only made the load heavier.
She’s a woman of faith, a photographer friend who gave me permission to share a little bit of her story here.
She set her camera aside for awhile. She told me that she didn’t have the strength to pick it up anymore and her passion for photography was gone. Her brokenheart didn’t have room for it anymore.
But God. But grace.
He’s been showing her that beauty and sadness can coexist. He’s given her strength and the desire to pick up her camera again. She’s sharing her art and the beauty she creates but sometimes the titles or captions on her photographs reveal her not so beautiful emotions … her unseen wounds.
I wrote a comment on one of her instagram posts when the sorrow of her words didn’t match the beauty of her photograph. “This is art (I wrote)…when beauty and sadness occupy the same space. It is possible to have both together.”
And it’s true. Isn’t it?
I thought about how that could be a metaphor for life. In the deepest of sadness there will always be times of encouragement. It can come from God in many ways but one way is through the beauty we see around us and even through the beauty we create.
I’ve noticed that most of us have an innate desire to create. That takes on different forms but think about yourself. What are your interests? Do you like to cook, bake, paint, draw, decorate, garden, craft, tackle home improvement projects … ? Also trouble shooting and coming up with new ways to handle a difficult situation falls under the umbrella of creativity as well.
We were designed by ‘The Creator’ and we were created in His image. Therefore, we must have those same qualities in us. Right?
I think we were all designed to be appreciators too. When we notice the beauty we see in our environment and appreciate it, we become people of gratitude. Writing down something we’re grateful for in a notebook or a journal at the end of the day can help shift our focus from our problems and alleviate some of the stress we’re feeling. This is especially helpful at the end of a hard day.
I was happy to see my brave friend capturing beauty again and creating art. Her sadness isn’t gone, her emotional and health struggles are still there but she’s managing to scale her mountain while trying to keep her mind on …
Whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable — if anything is excellent or praiseworthy– think about such things. Philippians 4:8
Seeking the good through our trials, being able to see the beauty in spite of our battles, and trusting that the mountains we scale will produce spiritual strength and ultimate growth will help us persevere. The outcome …the strength; the growth … that’s a wonderful gift from God. He recycles our ash heaps and gives us beauty.
That’s grace. That’s mercy.
Blessings,
Nancy
A Jewish prayer/blessing I heard recently and find myself repeating often lately: Blessed are you, LORD our God, King of the Universe, through whose word everything comes into being.
Well hello there. It’s been 9 months since I visited the pages of this journal so I just may be typing to myself.
During the past 9 months, like the 9 months that it takes to birth a new life, something new has been developing, growing and birthing in me.
I’m not sure if that means that I will consistently write in this space again but that may happen.
I’ve been up to soul care. My soul care. Sometimes, like King David, we need to speak to our souls. I love the Psalms. The honesty of David is so refreshing. He was honest but always ended his prayers with attention directed toward God. He may have been depressed, downtrodden, running for his life at times but in his honestly he found God to always be enough. He could praise and worship the God who loved him only after pouring out his heart before him. Sometimes he had to speak directly to his soul…Why, my soul, are you downcast? Why so disturbed within me? Put your hope in God, for I will yet praise him, my Savior and my God. Psalm 42:5
When Bob and I returned home after almost 11 months away for Bob’s cancer treatment and ultimate bone marrow transplant, I thought I’d pick up right where I left off. But as Bob recovered I found that I needed a period of recovery too.
For so many months I ran 90 miles an hour without thinking much about what I/we were going through. I had to stay strong, above collapsing, taking care of Bob, arranging hospital and doctor appointments, organizing the dozens of medications that he needed, making sure he received the correct doses at the right time, administering medications through IV’s, keeping everything sterile, watching him helpless; limp with barely being able to lift his head off of his pillow most days and feeling helpless when I couldn’t take his discomfort away.
Not much changed after we got home. I was on high alert as Bob struggled with more setbacks and serious hospitalizations. Go, go go… that’s what I did without much thinking, without much down time except praying and asking God to supply what I needed to keep going at that crazy pace. I knew that I couldn’t get sick and that put more pressure on me. There were times when I would think: I feel sick. What was that pain? Oh no, I can’t get sick. Bob needs me. Sometimes my thoughts were irrational. Stress will do that.
Bob’s doctors told us that it wasn’t going to be easy but we didn’t fully grasp the full scope of it until we got to the other side and looked back.
As Bob recovered and could do more for himself again, I found I remained on high alert not able to relax nor could I find lasting inner peace and quiet that I often experienced during the months away. There was more peace during the hardest places because I was being carried…carried by the Lord even when I couldn’t feel it. It’s obvious now in hindsight.
Many people run through life at high speed so they don’t have to face the truth about themselves or the thorny, painful, hurtful areas of life. They know if they slow down they would have to come face to face with themselves, their fears and anxiety. Running from the pain seems easier so they continue running in the wrong direction. Trying to quench their thirst for God with counterfeit gods doesn’t bring lasting peace. It’s just a bandage but won’t reach or heal the deep wounds of life.
What brings peace is being honest with ourselves, with God, facing our fears, hurts and surrendering them to God. Then we can slow down and live at peace, because we’re no longer running away but toward the one who cares for us like a good father.
I’m by nature a quiet, reflective type. It’s always been easy for me to unwind. I always thrived on peace, quiet, and by being alone but the running to care for Bob, living for so long on high alert, in the flight or fright syndrome — not by choice but by necessity — I became accustomed to that lifestyle. The hypervigilance that I lived for so long left me jumpy, waiting for the next crisis to respond to when I didn’t have to do that anymore. It served me well for many months but began to hurt me when I couldn’t let it go after the necessity to live that way was gone.
I needed to face my fear, anxiety, claim it, speak it out loud, tell God about it and then surrender it all to him. So I have been in process of letting go of the lifestyle I lived for so long and allowing a peaceful, quiet life to be birthed in me again.
That’s where I am. I haven’t been gone just facing myself, those deepest fears, anxiety, realizing it’s okay to rest now. Jesus says: “Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.” (Matthew 11:28) It’s been good for me to rest in Christ.
Healing comes in different ways. Bob is in a complete molecular remission and I am healing emotionally.
Here’s a great song that speaks to me right now. You may like it too. Sometimes we just need to speak to our soul like King David did…
It’s all good, because like the lyrics by Casting Crowns says … “Oh my soul you are not alone. There’s a place for fear to face the God you know. One more day he will make a way. Let him show you how you can lay this down. Cause you’re not alone.”
That’s for me, for you, for all of us.
Blessings,
Nancy
We are handing in the keys to our temporary home tomorrow. After almost 11 months, this place is no longer needed.
The most intense part of my husband’s Leukemia treatments are behind us.
We spent 3 weeks at our real home this month and returned here this week for Bob’s check-up and biopsy. He’s still in remission and we are going home for good now only to return for periodic cancer checks.
As I walk through the rooms of this small apartment packing up the last of our belongings, I can’t help but think back on all that’s happened here. There were many days of uncertainty. Many lonely nights for me as Bob spent days, weeks, months of his own lonely days and nights in the hospital for treatment.
There were dressing changes, IV magnesium and antibiotic infusions done here and long periods of time when all Bob could do was sleep in this space that we called home. And all I could do was feel helpless — with only a prayer in my heart — as I watched him go through his suffering. There were several emergency trips to the hospital after the bone marrow transplant, because of infections, virus’, graft vs host rashes, low blood pressure and a fall that ended up with a stitched forehead. Then there were the re-admittance to the hospital times, because those side effects and illnesses became serious.
And there were times when I looked up and asked, “Where are you God?” There were times when Bob cried out, in familiar to us words,…”My God, my God why have you forsaken me?”
And that’s when Christ identified with us. That’s when His presence became more real. That’s when His compassion flowed into our hearts and uplifted our spirits.
Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves have received from God. For just as the sufferings of Christ flow over into our lives, so also through Christ our comfort overflows. 2 Corinthians 1: 3-5
And that’s when suffering becomes a gift.
So we leave this place changed. We are forever changed and forever grateful knowing that God won’t waste our pain and grateful for this apartment that so often became our holy ground even in the middle of the not so wonderful times.
God doesn’t waste a second of our suffering. There’s purpose in everything and the hardest of times, those times of trouble prune away the unnecessary to make room for the necessary.
Blessings,
Nancy ❤
( I shared how this apartment was provided for us here: Your answer could be right around the corner and a little of our holy ground experience here: An Unexpected Gift)
I wrote the following words on January 11, 2015 in my piece titled, Our Spring is coming…
“We are looking forward to the end of this storm, this winter that we are in. We are looking forward to seeing all the signs of spring and new life…The crocus’ poking up from beneath the snow, the sun shining brighter, the patches of snow disappearing and the grass greening.
We are looking forward to spring with the hope of being home where we can live out what the medical staff is calling our new normal.”
As spring and the promise of new life arrived, we received the results of Bob’s spinal fluid and bone marrow biopsies, CANCER FREE! Two of the most beautiful words that we’ve ever heard!
Through the sovereignty of God and our son, Scott, agreeing to God’s plan through his bone marrow donation, Bob received a second chance at life; a rebirth so to speak.
After 8 months in this medical community, we thought by now we could make plans to return home but Bob is fighting an intestinal infection. The transplant knocked down his immune system so it will be an uphill climb for a year from the date of his transplant. The complete recovery process, at times, is grueling. What would be a minor illness for you or me, becomes serious for Bob.
What we have learned through this experience, right from the beginning, is that we never know what tomorrow may bring so we must hold tight to the ONE who holds tomorrow in His hands.
In the middle of our own medical odyssey, my dad had a heart attack and a stroke and is recovering nearby.
We’re a little battle fatigued but remain hopeful.
Our hope lies in the one who holds tomorrow in His hands and those hands are holding both of the special men in my life…my husband and my father.
I wrote a poem years ago that I completely forgot about until I received a letter in the mail recently. The letter came from a mission publication stating that they were going to publish my poem. It was an unexpected surprise. A gift of God’s timing. Here are those words:
Rejoice and Be Glad
Springtime brings new energy
And all nature is refreshed;
The veil of winter lifted,
Feeling by the sun, to be caressed.
The earth begins to come alive
As presenting a new song
And all that is within us
Begins to sing along.
God paints the earth with greenery
And colors every flower,
Showcasing birds against blue skies
With a demonstration of His power.
Somewhere deep within the heart
There’s a joy we can’t contain;
Surrounded by spring’s newness,
Hope and happiness remain.
Skipping to the beat of spring
Floods the soul with peace.
After the wilderness of winter,
God brings us sweet relief.
God is bringing us sweet relief slowly from our winter wilderness. What was buried beneath the winter of our souls, is emerging stronger, resilient, joyful and thankful.
Many of you have been part of this second chance at life for Bob — especially through your prayers — and for that we are thankful. We are thankful to God and to all of you. And now we wait in hope for God to clear up Bob’s infection and make his recovery complete.
Blessings,
Nancy ❤
Pens and Journals 