Ready or Not....

Today I have been sitting in my room in the hospital awaiting my hip replacement surgery tomorrow....It's been a lovely day. A day of chatting with a few friends online, uninterrupted by my normal life. A day of reading my Kindle, listening to an Mp3 version of the Bible ...studying and prayer. A day of speaking to and hearing from God.

My soul lately has been like a wrung out washcloth. All of the endurance and hope squeezed out of it by the hands of circumstance and most of all pain (as is evidenced by the last post here). While I have not lost my faith...it has become one of altogether too much grim effort. Clinging to it with a white knuckled grip, I have not had the experience much lately of resting in Jesus' arms and receiving his comfort. While in times past, of equal suffering, I DID have that sweet communion, lately it's been absent...And concurrently, the joy has very much left my life. I've become tight-lipped and grim. And my language has often erupted into angry expletives and this has been a great source of sadness to me. As the Bible says, "Can both blessing and cursing come from the same mouth? Can good and bad water flow from a single source?"
MAY IT NEVER BE! And sadly, it HAS been.

I am reading a book by Richard Foster (another one of my favorite authors and Christians) called "Prayer; Finding the Heart's True Home." And I just was reading about various types of prayer...and the things I've been thinking and learning would make this post WAY too long and probably boring to a lot of you, so I won't go into detail...but will simply say that I enjoyed a long period of prayer today...sweet, soul-healing prayer....of the type that my soul has been missing and for which it has been longing for a long time. But as Foster often points out...."Prayer is all of God and none of you." One cannot enjoy satisfying or powerful prayer simply because they WANT to. True , we must first want. Then we must ASK, and third we must WAIT. And fifth OBEY ....

As Oswald Chambers said today in my reading, "Whatever He says to you, do it" And in this case it was to repent and confess my hardened heart and to ask him to give me the new heart he's promised me: A soft, penitent, broken heart. ...One that will hear and respond to his Spirit and not be so determined to HANG ON, but one that is willing to LET GO.

And now, I'm ready to go into this surgery...ready to face the certain pain and whatever post op junk there is to deal with....Whether or not I'm ready to return to the embrace of my dysfunctional family is another question...and I'm trusting God to work that 0ne out before the necessary time for that arrives as well.

Profane Pain

copyrighted

by Cynthia Lott Vogel

3-25-11

Something is there....

It rudely elbow-shoves its way into my peaceful sleep,

Tossing aside my dreams like fist-fighting TV ninjas accost an opponent.

It screams its way through the darkness splitting the silence with an alarm shrill as an

Ambulance shrieks terror into the night.

A raucous pain as unwelcome as a 4 a.m. wake-up call.

Pain starts at my exploding head and screams its way down my spine,

Numbing my lumbar-stump legs and splitting those wooden appendages as cleanly as

An ax might fell a mighty oak.

Faith music sings into the night mocking my pain

(Or is it the other way around?)

The sweet tunes and their lilting joy oppose and are made foolish by

The unholy sacrilege of agony.

The joyful tones become the heresy

As the profanity of pain assumes the throne...

Spewing its vulgar vernacular

which then becomes my mother tongue.

A becoming as unbecoming as they come.

No.

This is the cross:

A bloody debauchery of Promise.

A spectacle of suffering that abases every hope

of Life reigning glorious and is rather,

A revolting depravity of expectation.

It calls to question

every assumption of life and self.

And challenges every fiber of Belief in my being;

Squashes every aspiration of my future.

But those concerns are the background drumbeat to the

Melody line of agony.

The immediate thing

to be tackled (by) is the present tensing of every fiber

and the shrill cackle of a tone-deaf singer

-to whom Music is a foreign tongue-

Who shrieks her way into my morning and

Launches the paroxysm of dance's mockery:

The convulsing contortions;

My body's gyrations to her tune

in its efforts to Find. Some. Relief. NOW.

Hand shaking top popping pill dropping

water guzzling desperate measures

come from desperate people

In desperate times of desperate need.

Do Words Ever Go Away??

I need to write this. And writing the outpourings of my heart may be just the thing that has gotten me into this plight.

But maybe that is a good thing. Maybe I needed my eyes to be open to the fact that not EVERYTHING should be poured out of my heart into a public venue such as this. Even though the people who read this do not know me NOR my family, perhaps just the speaking or writing of things is crossing some kind of line of trust or of propriety. I don’t know. I am a writer. What is in my heart has ALWAYS had to come out on paper or onto a screen. And it is true that, were someone to read these things which may speak of them; they could be hurtful in ways I’d never ever intended to hurt.

It was for this reason (and some others) that I burned YEARS of diaries…from 8th grade until my 32nd year or so. Some things just should not be read by others. Why?? Because they do not comprehend that often it is illness which spawns them; or that what may be true in my heart one day, will totally NOT be true the next; that words spoken in the heat of pain and anger do not really resound from the truest depths of my heart….but are merely the froth of the ocean waves which crash on my beach. There is this fallacy floating around that you never really say anything which you don’t truly believe on some level. I completely disagree with that statement. I have said hurtful things to the very LAST people on earth whom I’d want to hurt. And regretted them – often immediately – from the very core of my being….with every neuron in my body.

So maybe putting things into writing is NOT a good idea…because it gives permanence to things which should be repented of and washed away by the blood of Christ forever and ever.

And it also gives me a false sense of anonymity….of privacy. But what happens when I’m dead? Who will it be that reads those piles of journals…the stash of online JUNK; the things stored on my hard drive? They become open game. And they become weapons of mass destruction to the ones I love…and the worse thing is that they can never ever be erased or confessed or forgiven…because I will no longer be there to ask for forgiveness or to explain that they were not really meant or intended in any way to hurt or harm. And not only that, but as Randy Alcorn says through the voice of an angel character in his book “The Edge of Eternity:” “There is no such thing as a private moment.” or in this case, ” There is no such thing as an unheard word.” The fact is that the “great cloud of witnesses,” those people who have gone into Eternity and all the armies of the Lord’s heavenly armies, hear every. single. word.

Even our thoughts are heard and examined by the Lord.

And one day we will stand in front of that throne, believer and unbeliever alike, and will have to answer for them. These words of venom or blessing. This thought does not so much terrify me as it does fill me with an immense shame and a sense of my sinfulness. Sin that goes to my very core. Sin that is so great that it overpowers every ounce of ‘self control” or kindness, or every good intention, and it comes out of my mouth. or fingers onto paper or keyboard. or even just corrupts my thoughts with its poison.

Some verses come to mind. The first one is this: “For it is from the overflow of the heart that the mouth speaks.” and “a bad tree cannot produce good fruit.” and when James asked his audience, “how is it that, from a single mouth, both evil and blessing flow? Can a well produce both good and bad water? This cannot be!” (those are the words from my memory…I may have something slightly wrong in my renditions of them but the meaning is unchanged. So what conclusions may I draw from these word

That I am evil.

RESOUNDING LY and completely corrupt. Any good that I do , is in itself a misrepresentation of my evil heart warring against what God would have me to do.

And yes, I now am possessing two warring forces with in me. God has given me a new heart. A pure one that only intends to do what he wants me to do or say. But I cannot fool myself. The evil is still there. The enemy of my soul is still working …in fact working harder than he has ever had to work in me, to make those evil impulses override the restraint and love placed there by the Holy Spirit.
It also means that I am without excuse.

People who do not have the Spirit dwelling in their souls are incapable of successfully resisting the evil that is in them. In them, the old heart is their ONLY heart…and yes, decency, kindness or self-control may cause them to edit their words or actions…but when a negative impulmlse comes, they are powerless to overcome it with a truly loving heart. They can say the right words…but they are really empty words springing from propriety, not love.

So in reality–I am more without excuse then they are. Because I HAVE the ability and the power to go to God for cleansing from any evil intent, or impatient impulse and to REPLACE it with HIS love. The love to which the cross has given me access.

So I am more, but also I have a solution. I have an antidote to the failure I’ve just had. And that too is the cross of Y’shua (Jesus), where that guilt is not only pardoned, but ELIMINATED. The sad part though , is that this does not always eliminate the pain that my words may have caused someone. And if my words are spoken and were heard; if they are written and read–their potential to bring harm and hurt goes on and on. This is why Scripture is so PACKED with injunctions and wisdom about the power of our words and how to best manage them. The book of Proverbs (some call it the “Song of Solomon”) is loaded especially full of this wisdom about words and the tongue.

So today, my heart is ACHING with my failure…with things I’ve spoken and written which could be misinterpreted or which, shamefully, are true and which were hurtful and wounding.

And I beg and plead with the Spirit of Y’shua for his blood to cover my failures and sins. To work in the hearts of those I’ve injured. For them to have the supernatural ability to forgive me and move on in our relationships.To understand the pain of my heart for having caused tears on the faces of the LAST people on earth whom I would wish to wound, and to try to forgive me and understand that I still struggle with sin just like they do. I say things I don’t mean…just like they do…And I pl ead and beg with God’s Spirit to forgive and restore my heart to the place where he would want it to be.

And if you too, are wanting to be cleansed of this or other sins, and you need this NEW heart in order to do it…(which you DO in order to have victory over such sins as these) I would recommend speaking to a friend or minister whom you KNOW has that heart already…or contact me at the email address in the sidebar…Or best of all, go directly to the source and pick up a Bible. Read from a good translation that is easy to understand (I recommend the New Living Translation ((NLT)) ) and maybe begin with the book of Matthew or John…Ask God first to explain it to you and make it clear to you by his Spirit…and he will. And THEN go to someone reliable spiritually, for the answers to your questions.

Lunar Affinity

My husband and I were getting the mail at the office of our community last night and as we turned into the office parking lot we were accosted and held captive by the incredible HUGE glowing orb hanging close to the horizon. It was
slightly reddish orange and simply amazing.

With frustration I said, "OH I wish I had my camera!" and with no small joy suddenly bolted upright in the car and said "OH WAIT! I DO!!!" and, finding it, left the car and went in search of the best angle. There were trees obscuring it from every angle, but I sort of think they add to the picture rather than detract.

I love the moon and have a very strong affinity for it. After all. My first name MEANs "moon goddess" being one of the alternate names for Artemis, the Goddess of the Moon in ancient mythology. (betcha didn't know that did you??) But I think that it is more than awesome to have a God of the Moon...and of the Sun ...and of the earth and everything in it all wrapped up in the ONE God, Yahweh and the threesome of whom he consists. I think that the moon is one of his most beautiful creations...and the most fascinating. (but that's just my opinion, obviously).

Anyway, here is a picture of the "Super Moon" ...the moon is the closest to the earth that it has been in 19 years...Enjoy it!

The Ash Heap

I just found a couple of new websites. One is called, “Testify: the Blog” and it is a blog created by four woman bloggers who got together to share their faith and their stories via a blogsite. It can be found at : www.testifyblog.com and the other site was a link I found at Testify. And that is about a Christian Women bloggers conference. ( http://therelevantconference.com/ ) And I got all excited. Even more excited when I saw it is in my own state. And then I read the bios of the guest speakers.

Ann Voskamp led the list. She is my hero. I 'd mentioned her and written a review of her book in "The Fertilizer of Faith" on Feb. 23rd of this year: Her blog at www.aholyexperience.com is beautiful. Intimidatingly so.

The other speakers, like Ann, are Homeschooling-mom-ish-Christian -wiferly types , who, if you ask me, are “perfect people with perfect lives”.....NOT that there is anything wrong with that. Don't get me wrong...They are laudable. Applaudable …. and compltely different animals than am I. People who make me look at my life and question my sanctification. And feel completely inferior and unworthy to share the same cyberspace with them.

Initially, I wanted nothing more than to go to this conference, but then I suddenly felt like I used to feel when attending church, just slowly, tentatively returning to the community of faith after over a decade away, dressed all in black, weighing 90 pounds wringing wet, with cigarette breath and anxiety so great that I couldn't remain seated throughout the whole service, but would have to escape to the foyer and pace back and forth as I listened to the remainder of the sermon through the open doors to the sanctuary. This mess...amongst all those smiling perfect people.

And this early morning in the darkness way before dawn, that unworthiness washed over me again. I suddenly thought of heaven with terror. Is THIS the kind of people by whom heaven is populated????

Panic.

Maybe I shouldn't go.

I mean, put me in a room with Paul, Peter, Moses, Bonhoeffer, Julian of Norwich, and Thomas a Kempis and I think I'd be completely comfortable. But with THESE women? I think I'd have to have a cigarette. Never mind the fact that I haven't had one in 16 years. I'd definitely need one then.

Why is this?

They are, after all, women with hurts and struggles and who passionately love Jesus. I should be completely comfortable . They are my sisters.

But no. They all remind me of who I am not. Of WHAT I am not. Of the life I maybe could have had....had I not had schizophrenia and illness in my life.

OHH, is that what this is?

This is not humility folks.

It's JEALOUSY...Laced with disparagement because I have to make myself feel better about my life and my failures.

Gosh.

I didn't know, honestly didn't know, that that is what it was.

Oh man. This is ugly.

Firstly, I have NO RIGHT to be disparaging because, for example, Ann V. is brilliant. She was as much Harvard material as I was. She is more talented as a writer and as a photographer. And her mothering skills are without par in my book. It's not like these are “dumb blondes.” So the scorn is definitely and absolutely an attempt on my part to lift myself up from the pit I find myself sinking into. It's a pit of bitterness and disappointment. Bitter disappointment. I look at my life. My failures. My imperfect family. And I want to crawl away in shame.

And I should be ashamed.

But not ashamed of my life.

I should be ashamed of my attitude.

My life? It is what it is. I've done the best that I could with the hand God dealt to me.

And really? If you'd ask those people working in some of the psych hospitals where I've been, I've accomplished a HUGE amount. Just in getting married and raising a daughter and having some semblance of a career, until health made that impossible any longer....These are things that the doctors and mental health workers who knew me, pinned down in restraints and shrieking curses at them, could never have anticipated or hoped for me.

Even a year ago last October, things looked hopeless. Once again.

And like that phoenix who refused to crash and burn, time after time, I arose from my Job-ish ash heap and returned to some pretense of reality and normalcy.

(NOTE here what I am doing...Patting myself on the back and saying , “Look, it isn't so bad....” Restoring wounded pride to its normal state of residence in my heart. It's the pride that tells me, “you are better than this. Better than what your life has turned out to be. You had more potential than this....but an ill fate sidelined and squashed you. Poor baby” )

So, like, every emotion I've displayed thus far in this blog is pretty ugly.

Shame,

Unworthiness

Jealousy

Disparagement

Pride

Excuse-making

And then self-placation.

If anyone had any doubt as to the REAL reason I don't belong at this conference; they should be dispelled by now. Lol

I'd better end this blog now...I've got some talking to God to do.

The Answer....

Lord,
I'm here in my bed. The hour is late. My mind is full. And when the light goes off, the darkness comes alive with leering fears. Fears of what the future holds for me...fear of the pain that this night holds. The pain that wakens me, with streaming tears to stumble stiffly out of bed and to fumble my way to the hall, to "walk it off;" this pain that cannot be outwalked or outrun. The pain that will send me fish flopping into my recliner and then back to bed seeking some kind of relief....relief that will not come despite my best efforts.

I am afraid too, Lord, of the more distant future. Fear that my hip will dislocate again...at a time when I cannot get help and will be left alone to suffer in the silent house, enduring that pain which, I am sure, could kill a person from its very intensity. Fear. That my future holds more pain. Worse pain (although that seems unimaginable and impossible) ...Disability as part after body part ceases to function...with increasing loss of independence. increasing helplessness and dependence...on what I don't know...because there is nothing and no one to depend on but you, Lord.

Fear. of financial catastrophe. Of the time when my husband due to age or illness must cease to work...and then we will be left to face the consequences of having no savings or financial plan or pension. Fear of what the current tide in politics and medicine may bring my way as expensive treatment may easily become withheld from a money-sucking hopeless example of non-productivity such as I. Fear of what will happen when my cervical discs finally collapse or the bony growths with are currently flattening and compressing my spinal cord finally sever or severely impinge on it.

Fear.
The night is populated and inhabited by it.
I breathe it in. I breathe it out.
Lord where are you in this pervasive darkness? I reach out my hands...grasping. And
I clutch....air.

And despite the mockery of the night, I have peace somewhere in my chest; because there is a knowledge outside of my cowardice, that there exists a God; who is bigger and Other than my fear and doubt. A God who is NOT. NOT like anything else; who isn't compelled to please me or answer to me and who is not threatened by my fear nor my questions...and yet who is a huge IS. A God who can roar into the silence of my night; into the howling dark wilderness of my doubt and boom his answer and his self explanation in two words: I AM. That is it. All of the assurance we need. All of the answer to our fear. To our doubt. The simple fact of his existence is the resolution and sufficiency for every need; every gaping lack.

It is the statement which is the answer to every one of our inadequacies both of character, and supply. I AM- all you could want or need; I AM the extinguisher of fear; I AM what will get you through the darkness of your nights, the uncertainties of your tomorrows. I AM HOLY, HOLY, HOLY...the LORD God Almighty ,,...who was and IS and yet will be. Fear not, little one, I am here. I am with you --ALWAYS...EVEN WHEN THE WORLD ROCKS ON ITS FOUNDATIONS AND MELTS IN TO THE SEAS...I am with you now and will be with you through your nights. I will uphold you by your hand; will ride the winds to help you; will hold you so that when you stumble you WILL NOT FALL....because I am there to lift you up. I will be there in your dark nights when pain threatens to rock and roar over you.

Here, take my Peace which I am offering you. Peace which no one else will or can understand. Peace that will carry you because it is embedded in the bedrock of trust. And your trust is mounted in the verity of my existence and in the truth of my promises. It is grounded in who who and what I AM. So do not fear, little one; little trembling Child of Clay. Do not quiver and shake....merely curl up into my strength and let ME worry about those tomorrows. And rest in the fact of my Presence and in my promise never to leave you nor to forsake you; NOR to give you anything that is bigger than I can handle for you.

And I smile into the darkness at the God who somehow manages in two words not to coddle but to give a cuddle. And I know now that sleep or no sleep; pain or no pain...I am safe. I am loved.

Amen and Amen

My Soul Sings

I have spent the majority of the past week in bed, grounded by spinal pain--and in the past two days, without internet on my laptop due to network problems...So I lay down until the pain subsides to a roar and then when I have to...or when I need to change position, I get up and wander about the house or go on the living room PC for about ten minutes...and then pain escalates once more and it's back to bed.

It has been growing progressively worse...I'd gone in the past year from spending up to five hours at church on a Sunday morning to only being there for an hour...And lately, that hour has become more and more agonizing. I spend so much time squirming and shifting my weight back and forth, seeking a bit of relief...and then finally exiting to pace in the lobby, that I've gotten precious little out of going. I don't even get to talk to or visit anyone, because pain demands I leave NOW, right at the end of the service.

This realization...that my days there from now on will be few and far between...fills me with immense sadness. Church was the high light of my week...So now I am left to worship...just me and God, here in my room...I find that YouTube is of great help in this for me...I have a good friend who always sends me videos of music to watch and she picks some excellent ones. Please listen to the following two as they've meant a lot to me this week.

This one is by an artist named Ginny Owens, who is a new name to me, but whom I will definitely be following henceforth:

If You Want me to- Ginny Owens


Yes, I can say to him that "I will walk through the fire if you want me to," but those words have taken some time in coming readily to my heart. God is patient and he loves me...and he's allowed me to travel through a bit of sadness and tears this week, but he's been with me through it, speaking through music very often. I am laying my future...and each day at Jesus' feet, because that is the only way it can be endured.
And now, my greatest urge is not to cry...but to worship. May his name be forever praised!

At Your Feet by Casting Crowns:



Another favorite one of mine is the one I've embedded at the bottom of my blogpage. It's probably my all time favorite...When ever you need a lift, or a reason to lift up your hands to the heavens..stop by and give it a play!

Fly LIttle Bird

My daughter is no longer living at home.

She just recently went to North Carolina in search of herself and in search of a life of her own. I don't blame her....and while I miss her horribly; I pray for her success. She has much to overcome in terms of pain from her past her past here in this family and in other relationships. There's been a lot of trauma. A lot of difficulty involving separation from those she loves. After all, she 's had a mom who from her young age of four months has been gone, sometimes for months at a time...and has frequently been so sick that there was serious doubt that she would ever come home again at all.

Now after the dust settles from her departure and we have stopped listening for her voice in the next room, we must get down to the question: WHAT NOW? What now in our marriage...in terms of a career...or living arrangements? What now in the sense of what now defines us as we are no longer actively, "mom" and "dad." What now in terms of what our future holds for us....a new career for me? A nursing facility? Coming to grips with being disabled and almost homebound? Coming to terms with our lives thus far, forgiving ourselves and each other for our mistakes and failures? Or do we go our separate ways in search of something "other"? (For me the last question is not much of a question in my mind....I'm staying where I am, unless forced to leave. But it is something which may be crossing my husband's mind...I'm really not sure...things like that frequently do emerge at this point in a man's life.)

I've heard of the "Empty Nest Syndrome" and truthfully had never given too much thought to it....I somehow didn't think it would be something I would really have to face. Especially not at the distance of a six hour drive from the fledgling. But here it is. And it's real although I still have not assimilated that.

I look back a lot lately - at my marriage; at my raising of my daughter....and I have a lot of regrets. I see so much that i should have done differently or better. And my daughter told me this in a Facebook message today: "We HAVE good memories as a family. I have tons of beautiful memories of you and daddy. Not everything about our family was/is bad. I wish you could remember some of the things I do. Maybe then you wouldn't feel so helpless and upset."

It's true that much is gone from my memory...due to the damage done both by this cursed illness and by the treatments for it. And I want to scream at the unfairness of it...to be deprived, not only of my child, but of so many memories that SHOULD by rights, be mine to ponder and treasure! But I do have some. And these I'll have to polish up and cling to tightly so that they do not slip into the fog that is pervading my mind.

I may be confused and foggy about a lot of things..but not about this: my daughter is the best thing that ever happened to me and I will thank God for her daily until I can tell him in person.