HANDS

There it was again, that old familiar wake-up call: a wave of nausea followed by a jolt of pain and then the rush of anxiety.  This journey through RA/Fibromyalgia has left me well acquainted with the Night Watches of Anxiety.  But this time, a word followed closely on the heels of the normal rush: HANDS, and it came so insistently that I felt there must be something my Lord wanted to uncover inside of my thoughts.  


And then it all came back in a flood: this is the week for my husband's hand surgeries. After all these months of the RA attacking MY hands, and the pain and swelling, and even the residual tendon damage left after my meds have begun to bring me relief, now we must face the surgeries to repair carpal tunnel damage in both of my HUSBAND'S wrists. Simultaneously.  

Are you asking me to examine my hands, Lord?

Or are you trying to teach me

more

about YOUR hands?

A few months ago, a dear blogging friend, Trudy Den Hoed, wrote a beautiful blogpost about looking up and trusting that God is holding us. As the pain and anxiety rushed through me, the words of her post and the song she had posted were also running through my mind, bringing great comfort in the middle of the night.

Click here to read her post

My mind and body found peace as the Lord brought STILLNESS to the night watch again. But when I woke this morning, the word HANDS was still echoing in my thoughts. 

Yes, Lord, I trust you.

You have us

and 

You hold us.

But where is the foundation

of my knowing that?

What is the reason

I know your hands

are safe?

I know that my hands

are weak.

Forever

I am left with a 

reminder

of what disease

has done to my body.

How can I hold onto

YOUR hands

when my hands

can not hold close

to anything?

And then I knew. This weakness left behind in me, forever keeps my gaze fixed upward. There is only ONE who has the strength, enough to win salvation for me. And this ONE left HIS HOME in Heaven to make HIS HOME in ME.

 

Sing to the Lord a new song,
    for he has done marvelous things;
his right hand and his holy arm
    have worked salvation for him.

Psalm 98:1 NIV 

 

My hands may be weak. My husband's hands may be damaged. But we were never meant to work the healing necessary on our own. Jesus is the only safe one to hold onto us. And Jesus is the only one who holds out God's Salvation 

for me

and for my husband

and for you.

I am linking this week over at these great sites:
#TellHisStory Jennifer Dukes Lee 
#TeaAndWordTuesday Meg Weyerbacher 





 

Rest for the Restless

I am slowly learning to recognize

the signals

my body tries to send out to me.

 These restless nights,

when my soul is so hungry for rest,

Is there a message that I am missing?

Since the RA/Fibromyalgia journey

set in,

I can no longer just push my way through

those signals.

The restless nights will grow longer,
the pain will intensify,

and the fog of the day will 

grow stronger.

Until I finally stop and look

and listen 

(there's that word from last month)

to what God is trying to speak.

This last month of writing was a beautiful

journey into hearing words

and expressing thoughts

that were full of deep surprises.

But it also has taken a toll on my physical strength.

Have you been in that place too?

When you sowed and reaped

and gained a harvest,

but then collapsed at the table

where the food was spread?

So I can hear my Lord whispering,

and see the signs placed before me:

He is calling me to enjoy the harvest,

to slow my thoughts

even as my work is slowed.

 

 

Ephesians 1:18 (NIV) "I pray that the eyes of your heart may be enlightened in order that you may know the hope to which he has called you, the riches of his glorious inheritance in his holy people."


He has given me a HOPE to linger in
right here, 
as I allow Him to open my eyes.
The Harvest that He wants 
me to enjoy?
It is the Fruit of His Presence.


We are the glorious inheritance
of our God. 
What an incredible thought,
mind-boggling to me.
But even more mind boggling
is the way that our God
wants us to enjoy Him.

His presence is the Fruit 
that He wants to give to us.
The FUTURE that He
has mapped out for us
is to walk with Him
through every moment.


So I will take JOY
and see with my eyes
and hear with my ears
so that my restless nights
might be filled with the fruit
of the Harvest of God.




Don't forget to leave a comment below
in order to be automatically entered into this week's give-away
for a copy of Cindee Snider Re's book,
Discovering Hope: Beginning the Journey Toward Hope in Chronic Illness  
 I will announce the 2 winners this Sunday, November 6. 



I am linking today with
Suzie Eller's #LiveFreeThursday  


 

Morning Glory

Morning Glory -- Glory of the Morning

My prayer this morning, from Suzie Eller's book, "Come With Me" 

"Jesus, thank you that I am your beloved disciple. As I sit at your feet, teach me. Let your words spring to life inside of me and take root. May I live what I believe in greater measure as I walk with you."

 I woke up this morning with a rock in my stomach. Oh yes, there is "that," as I remembered what was on my mind when I fell asleep last night. My testing ground of a few weeks ago, when my husband had the flu, came back to gain another level.  He was supposed to be going in for minor surgery this week, but it has been postponed because of a heart abnormality in his pre-op EKG. So we have set up the meetings and more tests with the specialist to find out what is going on.

Last night, hard as I tried, I couldn't keep my mind from wandering down the "what-if" paths.  What if he has heart disease? What if he needs heart surgery? What if he requires care that my weakened state is simply not able to give? 

I managed to lay the thoughts at the feet of Jesus, and drift off to sleep, but the thoughts rose to greet me along with the morning. If I say that my faith rests in Jesus, then why are my feet walking these paths of doubt?  

I've been taking part in an online study with Suzie Eller's book--a first for me!  It's been fun to see other people's postings as we all walk through the book together.  And I've had fun trying a little different approach by art-journaling my thoughts to her questions each week.  This morning as I doodled my way along the page, I realized that my pencil had stretched out the word from the prayer above, "Beloved" so that it looked more like two words than one.  And then it hit me: 

Beloved -- Be-loved

If I want to learn more about what it means to Be HIS Beloved Disciple, then I must let myself be loved by Jesus. If I want to learn more deeply what it means to live what I believe, then I must receive the offer He extends to me still, here in this place of 

not-yet-seeing.

I know that my strength is not enough to carry my husband through his own trials.  It's not even enough to carry myself. But isn't that what this Faith-Walk is really about? We are finding ourselves to be carried when we cannot walk, to be held when we cannot stand, and to be loved when the answers aren't given.

I thought I had a pretty firm grasp on what "living what I believe," looked like before this RA/Fibro Journey began.  But I am discovering that each new trial demands its own place of trusting.  Yesterday's Faith is not enough to sustain Today. But Yesterday's Lessons have laid the foundation for Today's Learning.  So while I may look back and rejoice in God's Faithfulness, I must also look to today to find God's Grace.

And in this Grace-of-Today, my Heavenly Beloved is asking me to let Him hold my Earthly Beloved as well.  Even after almost 38 years of marriage, the growing together is not enough. There are yet more places where our hearts need knitting and patching together.  Sometimes those knittings are seen in beautiful joyful patterns.  And sometimes the patching requires a tearing and a breaking to allow more of the One-ness that God designs for husband and wife.

A few weeks ago, our middle son sent my husband the link for this song.  But God meant it for today, as my prayers are not too weak to be carried to the heart of my Lord.  I will find my Glory-of-the-Morning as my faith looks up to Jesus.

I am linking this week with these great Bloggers:

  #TeaAndWordTuesday 
  #TellHisStory
 #LiveFreeThursday

We Are God's Garden

 

Another corner of my garden--God's Garden--where

He asks me to sit awhile

And listen

I've been pondering the pictures that my Counselor painted for me last week.  It was a word picture to help explain why my stamina has gone into hiding: What if I could picture my energy and stamina as being contained in one of those beverage coolers with a spigot on the bottom and a cap on top, and every time I use my energy for anything, it would flow out through the spigot in the bottom.  But while the outflow is moving steadily along, the inflow at the top of the container is only a slow drip.  The inflow is much slower than the outflow now. 

So where does that leave me when I choose to take on an extra activity, or go for an extra outing? Depleted for days.  The inflow takes longer to replenish than the actual time of the outflow--I cannot depend on my rejuvenation to happen in the same way that it used to, pre-RA/Fibro days.  Depletion is a negative in the bank-book nowadays. And my body screams at me on those negative days. 

But I have come to recognize another voice, quieter, and still, behind the clamoring voice of pain.  It is the voice of my Lord, asking me to ponder another picture.

"Instead of your shame you will have a double portion, And instead of humiliation they will shout for joy over their portion. Therefore they will possess a double portion in their land, Everlasting joy will be theirs."  Isaiah 61:7

Several weeks ago, I wrote a post about this topic of shame Here, but the learning still continues.  As I listened and pondered that verse, questions began swirling to the surface.  I had prayed that verse many times over some very specific situations.  Those situations did not turn out the way I had thought they would.  But even more unthinkable was the possibility that I should consider SHOUTING for joy over my own portion?  HERE?  . . .


"Yes, my daughter.  I am your portion.  And I have given you a double portion of  MY PRESENCE as you have climbed into the soul-deep-places of your heart where I dwell with you, IN THE MIDST OF YOUR PAIN."


There is no fear in love, and there is no shame in weakness, when Christ is pouring His Mercy over us.  His Presence teaches us how to walk and measure our steps to steward the time He has given us on this earth.  Never a step is taken with Him, unless His Heart has a reason.

The Poet Prays

By Grace Noll Crowell

The crushing of a thousand petals, Lord,

Distills one drop of essence from a flower.

Crush me, Oh God, if thereby my song makes

Some tired heart walk with beauty for an hour.

If under bruising pestle I give voice

To the high white rapture of a faint perfume,

And catching it, one weary of paved ways

Turns back a lost path where wood violets bloom.

If I can bring the quick relief of tears

To dry eyes dulled with bitterness for long,

Gather the fragrant petals of my life

And crush them, Lord, then help me sing the song.

I am linking with Jennifer Dukes Lee, and her #Tell His Story crew.


 

At His Feet

She wasted it all

This woman who sat at the feet of Jesus

Who suffered the rebuke of her sister for leaving duties undone

This same one would be called Beautiful

because of what Jesus saw in her Act of Worship

Pouring our her costly perfume

Just for Him

Last week, as I read a beautiful post, "God's Treasures in Clay Vessels" from Wendy at "Widows Manna," her words took me back to a day several years ago before my RA/Fibro journey had begun. (Thank you, Wendy for encouraging me to share my story here.) I was that Woman in a dramatic portrayal Jesus had put on my heart.  I had portrayed The Woman at the Well many years before, but after a time of brokenness in a relationship, the Lord stretched my heart to write one final drama that would combine the stories of three women whose brokenness had been turned into worship.  And the final segment belonged to Mary, as she broke open her alabaster box, anointing Jesus with her costly perfume.  

Oh what a freeing time of expression the Lord gave to me through that portrayal.  For you see the main thought that I expressed through Mary's Worship was in the Joy that she felt to be at Jesus' feet.  Joy to be allowed to sit and glean from His speaking, Joy to find her grief turned inside out when Jesus raised her brother Lazarus, and finally, Joy to have her Love be fully accepted when she poured out her worship on his feet.  That portrayal was a kind of culmination for me: an expression of what Jesus had worked in my own heart through the years of letting go of pain and embracing His healing.

But it turns out the culmination was actually a beginning. (Isn't that just like our God?  He seems to delight in re-telling our stories!)  One day last year, as I faithfully massaged my daily essential oils onto my sore and tired feet, my vision clouded and I saw myself going through the motions of pouring that oil out as Mary did.  And I heard the whisper of God saying to remember that anointing every night as I poured out the oil onto my own feet, because Jesus was now anointing me.  My act of worship to portray Mary, had now become my own act of prayer as I waited for the healing that was in His hand to provide.  

But as sweet as that was, the days moved on, and my feet continued to ache.  The inflammation continued to wax and wane.  Even as I found myself shut-in with Jesus, I chafed at the restrictions.  But He has been fulfilling my heart's desire:  to be at His feet.

In the night when my soul aches with anxiety, my words are few, and I have come to a new place of being poured out.  Even as healing comes to joints long stiffened with pain, my silent love is spilling out, Worshiping at HIS FEET.

My dear friend sang this song at the conclusion of the Drama, when we offered it for our Church's Women's Retreat.  I hope this version by Clint Brown blesses you as much as it continues to bless me.

Linking with Jennifer Dukes Lee at #TellHisStory