Saturday, November 22, 2014

Just As I Am

Today, while writing morning pages, I wrote that I am hoping for deliverance and transformation. Do you know that you CAN'T clean up after your own sins? Do you know that God wants you to ask Him for help. Do you know that God doesn't expect you to try to make yourself "good enough" to go to Him to clean up the mess you've made?

Just As I Am* (you know the song?) means just that. Jesus did it. Jesus still does it. It's His job to transform us. It's His job to change our desires, our habits, our focus. It's His job to heal our hurts which removes the need for pain management. Maybe it's better to be desperate because there's no mistaking our need for salvation. Those who seem to have a happy little life might have no way of knowing that "we" don't brush ourselves off to go to God. Rather, we go to God to brush ourselves off.

The Good Samaritan is the story of how God does this. It is His story of what He does. He sees us wounded, crippled and dying. He does not pass us by. He reaches out and finds the wounded, those who are desperately broken and unable to even get up much less walk. Jesus washes our wounds, puts soothing ointment on them and covers them with fresh linens, then He picks us up and carries us to safety. The Good Samaritan took the wounded man to a safe home where he could heal.

Read the story for yourself at: http://www.biblestudytools.com/luke/passage.aspx?q=luke+10:30-37
OK, in this story, He is telling that He expects us to be Good Samaritans as well, but we can only do that when we receive His healing.

*  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GBDu94k7flU (Instrumental)

*  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LUK6P_QmGjM (Choral singers with words posted)

It's good to know that He calls us (me and you) to come, Just As I Am!


Friday, November 21, 2014

He Will Rise!

It's too much. I can't bear it. The punishment (for my sin) is too great for me and I can't stand it.

Have you ever felt that way? Like the consequences of your bad choices have resulted in more sadness and difficulty than you ever thought possible and the realization is unbearable?

I felt this way last night and remembered that those words were said by someone else in the Bible. It was Cain after he was punished for killing his brother, Abel. I guess the difference is that Cain wasn't sad that he had killed his brother, but only sad for the harsh reality of his punishment.

For me? I believe that I am truly repentant. I know that we are easily deceived and highly susceptible to sin, especially when in a weakened state, similar to how difficult it is to handle life when you are overly hungry or tired. 

So, before I went to bed last night, I just told God how I felt and asked him to remove the pain and anxiety if it wasn't mine to bear in order that I might sleep more peacefully. It worked so well that I barely woke up when Roxie's hubby went to work and then when Roxie got up with Ry. It must have been a deep groggy sleep.

This morning while writing and praying, I wrote that the blood of Jesus would cover my son and transform his inner man. Yes, I bow, in worship, to honor The One who is able. The One who conquered Death! Even THIS (my personal murder), Yes. Even This! All praise to the Son. Yes!

In the midst of the depth of my despair, I saw the light. It is Jesus who gives us victory over the sting of sin's power. It is Jesus who bears the weight of the punishment. In the midst of our pain, we can stand in faith, fully assured. Death cannot hold my son! He will rise!

Yep. I will hold onto that vision and continue to pray that he will be restored. He will be strengthened in his inner man. He will be filled with Light to shine in his darkest corners, covered with Jesus and transformed! Yes, he will rise!

Thursday, November 20, 2014

Gonna Be All Right!

This morning started out similar to every other morning with stomach pains and diarrhea. Roxie said that she can now understand how granny felt because her whole body hurt. She immersed herself in a tub of Dr. Teal's Epsom Salts. It was very soothing. When she got out of the tub, I sprayed her down with the generic version of Vaseline Spray and Go Moisturizer.

While she was dressing we were sharing tears of how hard having to deal with cancer is and how difficult it is to feel so awful that she can't do anything. It sucks worse than anything ever. We both also kind of wondered if I had sympathy pains for her.

Then she took a pain pill and an anti-anxiety pill, as suggested by her physician. Shortly thereafter, she felt much better. I had started to straighten, dust and vacuum. Before I knew it, she was helping me, and we made some serious headway. It was a huge relief that we found a combination to help relieve the waves of stomach pain.

Again, I hoped that she is not overdoing it, but on the other hand, if it helps her emotionally to feel more productive then it's all good.

Sometime during this afternoon, I missed a phone call. While trying to retrieve my voice message, I discovered a message from my mom. I played it and couldn't hold back the tears. It was so sweet to hear her little voice telling me that she loved me. Roxie asked what it was and I shared it with her. Somehow, it felt like a little voice from heaven telling us, "everything is gonna be all right."


Wednesday, November 19, 2014

Unconscionable!

I HATE, yes HATE relying on people. I HATE even more when people make a promise to do something and then do not do so. 

I have hit a wall with the professional world here in Oshkosh. I made two phone calls yesterday and one more today. Apparently some doctors do not return phone calls. Apparently, some doctors do not care. O.k., One in particular. The one who happens to be prescribing drugs for my son's ADHD, depression and anxiety. Perhaps he has the attitude of some, "YOUR EMERGENCY does NOT constitute an emergency on my part." Perhaps, he is too busy. But, the gal who answered his phone promised me she would talk to the doctor and call me back. That was 24 hours ago.

I guess they do not take mental health seriously. Perhaps, even though I have been given permission to talk to the doctor (psychiatrist), he doesn't take severe depression or addiction and bipolar seriously. 

Hmmm. Brings back memories. When Roxie was born, she had serious colic. The pediatrician flippantly told me, "babies cry." By the time my third child was born, they had come out with some gas drops. When I called to ask the doctor if this was o.k. for him to take, the doctor said, "If this should become a problem, we'll check into it." I told him, "I call crying for 7 hours straight a problem!" 

My son has been sleeping since Monday night at 10:00 p.m. I call that severe depression. I call that a serious problem. He is unable to function and admits it. So, I called again today and asked them to please give me a courtesy call. That was six hours ago. What has happened to respect? What has happened to professionalism? What? Don't they care?

I guess nothing has changed in the medical field in the past, almost thirty years and customer service is a thing of the past. On a personal level, I guess I've come to take it more in stride, but on the professional level, this is unconscionable. 


Update: The doctor called! Yes. He finally called. He will meet with all of us on Monday.

Tuesday, November 18, 2014

Out of the Rain!

Sometime while I was in 6th grade, one of my friends hooked me up with a babysitting job. I don't remember if she warned me or not, but this was every girl's babysitting nightmare.

There were four boys. Whew. Makes me tired just thinking about it. Those boys were out of control. Now consider that this was probably 1967. Kids in those days were taught to be respectful. They most certainly wouldn't dare be so defiant for a babysitter. These boys were the exception to the rule. Although I did try to keep them in line, I was not able to cope with four of them at once. They ended up running around outside in the rain. 

The funny thing to me, even at the time, was that there was a pile of playboys on the coffee table. I had never seen such things in any homes I'd ever been in. It was definitely odd that they sat there for everyone to see, including their babysitter.

I remember hating those boys. I hated the house. I hated being there. I decided I didn't ever want to babysit them again. The next time they called me to sit, I would tell them I'd only do it if they paid me seventy-five cents an hour. That would be up from fifty cents per hour. Guess what? I never had to babysit them again. Phew. That was a relief.

This story is my strength for our family crises. We can tell our adult loved ones to come in out of the rain, but only they can decide if they'd like to. Only they can decide if they will accept our help to get off their personal merry-go-rounds and get out of the rain.