Who's the Cake?

I read a facebook badge last week that really spoke to me.  Then I wrote a short piece about it for MMW and Friends called WE ARE THE ICING, NOT THE CAKE.

Click on the title link to check it out.  Let me know what you think. You might think you're the cake.  Or someone you love is the cake.  We're easily confused when it comes to desserts. 

A Heavy Heart

I've been blogging in my head a lot lately, just haven't settled in at the computer to write down my thoughts.

Life has been sobering recently.  (Which implies I'm normally drunk, or high, so that is really a goofy statement.)  It's been stacked with serious issues that take some deep thought.

1.  Like ISIS, or ISIL, or whatever.  It's clear we are going to be dealing with these terrorists for quite a while. It's frightening.  

2.  Yesterday was the 13th anniversary of the 9/11/2001 terrorist attack.  This always makes me sad.

3.  UTIs.  I never knew a urinary tract infection (or 8) could cause such problems.

4.  Publication issues.  I'm a first-time author, and my brain is in constant turmoil about which direction to take my book, The 12 Days of Christmas Adventure.  I think about it so much, my brain feels like this.

Doesn't this give you a headache just looking at it?

5.  In addition, we received a letter today that our bank account was one of the many compromised in the recent Home Depot hack.  Ironic, as my husband is an operations manager for Home Depot.

Life is scary and sad and anxiety-ridden at times.  Sometimes, it makes me long for heaven.  Like, right now.

When I think of the horrors going on in the middle east, the beheadings, the kidnappings, the brutal taking of human life, it's more than I can stomach.  Please, come, Lord.  We clearly don't know how to get along.  Our hearts are so depraved and corrupt, we don't deserve the life you have given us.

When I take Dad to one more doctor, and we hear that he is becoming immune to antibiotics because he has had so many in the past year, my heart aches.  I pray, Lord, we need your peace and your guidance, because we are coming to the end of what medicine can do to kill a nasty bug called pseudomonas.

When I don't know which avenue (of several) to take with my book, I just do nothing, which is stupid, because then no progress is made.  Some days I just can't get past this.  So, I bake some cookies.  And eat too many.

When we get a second letter (my credit card was hacked a few months ago) that our finances have been compromised because some people are greedy, destructive thieves, I want to go back to the barter system.  You launder my clothes, and I'll make you cookies.  We can swap chores and resources, and forget the paper money and silver coins.  I might have had more peace of mind living on the Prairie next to the Ingalls.  

We just seem to be making such a mess of things.  Why can't we be kind, and respectful, and share?

I realize I'm not the first human to raise these questions.  And I know the answer, I just wish it was different.  I wish it was repairable.  But, as long as we have free will, there will be messes and hatred and disease.  It's the price we pay for freedom. 

So, it's not a dilemma I can solve.  But, how God must grieve for how we live.  The people we destroy, the opportunities we waste, the gifts we squander, it's all so ruinous.

For the past couple of weeks, I've been taking a little wooden cross with me to bed at nights.  It's shaped to fit in the grip of a hand. 

I talk to God as I grow sleepy and ask Him to help me see things from His view.  He sees all the details of everything, and only He can assure me that, no matter what, He's got His hand on me.

Money will come and go, America will always have enemies, my parents will (probably sooner than later) pass from this life, and my book may never leave my computer.  I need to remember this life is temporary.  I need to hold all things lightly, because all things come to pass.  They don't come to stay.   

In the end, injustices will be righted, and goodness will be rewarded.  And whatever I can do to walk justly and humbly with my God is all I can do.  It's all I can do.

Only One Thing is Unchanging

I just received some news that a blogging buddy has breast cancer.

This makes me sad.  She's a joyous writer who now has to make some difficult decisions.

I'm reminded of Angelina Jolie and her COURAGEOUS CHOICE.

T.D. Jakes wrote that "life is the great equalizer," and I think of that quote often.  No matter how young or beautiful or successful or healthy we are - eventually, we lose it all.  In our final hour, we can't take beauty or strength or money or power with us.

What we can leave behind is the effects of our generosity, or kindness, or sacrifice.  Loved ones will benefit by what we shared and gave, not by what we hoarded or wasted.  When someone I know becomes ill, or dies, I am reminded of this.  As Elton John referenced, our lives are "candles in the wind."  We are bright and shining for only a time, and then we are gone.

As many of you know, my parents are 91 and almost 94.  Their lights are dimming, but they still sparkle when we are with them.  They have made a lasting impact on so many people over the course of their lives.  They were both in the Navy, both served tirelessly in their church for over sixty years, raised four children, and buried one when he was just 23.  They've lost most of their friends and half of their siblings.  They understand heaven is close, but if there's still good work to be done, gosh darn, they're going to do it.

When some people become ill, they question God - why me?  My blogging friend said, Why not me?  I'm no more special than anyone else.  What a beautiful perspective.  As the saying goes, God never promised us a rose garden.  Even if He had, lest we forget - a rose garden is full of thorns.

Such is life here on the planet.  Roses and thorns.  God wants us to know He is with us through both - the smelling of the roses and the wounding by the thorns.  His love for us, His plans for us don't change.   He is the same yesterday, today, and tomorrow.

After the rose petals are crushed beneath the snow, and the thorns are rendered powerless, and the breasts are removed, and legs no longer work, and memories are no longer clear, God and His love for us is exactly the same.

WHERE WERE YOU?

The morning of September 11, 2001, I was at the gym.  The aerobics class I normally took on Tuesdays was cancelled because the instructor was stuck in Washington D.C.

Her flight had been delayed, for - to us - an unknown reason. 

Fifteen minutes later I arrived home and flipped on the news.  Matt Lauer was interviewing an author, when he interrupted the conversation to announce that a plane had crashed into a World Trade Center building.

That was the beginning. 

Minutes later, I watched in disbelief as a plane flew into a second building.

Then we knew.  Someone was intentionally killing Americians.

news.nationalgeographic.com

It was incomprehensible, just didn't seem real.  I tried to reach my daughter, away at college in Pennsylvania.  My son called from Maryland.  Is this really happening? we kept saying.

When the towers fell, I became nauseous.  This is what evil looks like, I thought.

By the time a fourth plane dove into the ground in Shanksville, I decided it was time to wake up my husband, who was working nights at the time.  I hated to do it.  He had served the Air Force for twenty years.  He would be heart-sick.

I got him up, and together, we stared at the TV for the rest of the day.   How could such a thing happen?  We kept shaking our heads, unable to imagine the level of hatred that devises such a plan. 

news.nationalgeographic.com

Through all the horror and grief, Americans united to support one another and stand resolute that this tragedy would not break us.

Today, I am praying for those who died on that day.  I'm praying for their families.  I'm remembering the days immediately following 9/11/2001, when the best of us emerged.  We turned to God and each other for comfort and healing.

And yet, years later...we are again bickering about politics, economics and social issues.  It seems we have forgotten how easily we can be humbled when the worldly things in which we place our trust are destroyed. 

The aerobics instructor returned safely to Florida to tell her story of how, after the first two planes struck, passengers in the airport were told to run from the terminal.  With hundreds of others, she ran for her life to an empty field and waited for instruction. 

There are many lessons from 9/11.  

blog.heritage.org

A frightening one is that evil exists.  

The good news is that, in the end...God wins.  

Dropping the Backpack

 

Years ago, I attended a youth group meeting with my sister and my nephews.  The youth pastor was talking to the teens about the challenges they were dealing with as emerging adults: peer pressure, difficulties at home, dating drama, academics, self-esteem issues, long-term goals, etc.

I sat there thinking, I'm so glad I'm not a teenager anymore.  The teen years are full of disappointments and angst.

But, then the pastor referenced Matthew 11:30, which reads, "For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light."  He went on to say that the world is full of trouble; Jesus told us we'd have trouble.  He also said He has overcome the world.

The pastor reiterated Matthew 11:30 in his own words. "God's burden is light.  That means...if your burden is heavy, it's not from God."

I spent a long time thinking about this.  I didn't have teenage burdens, but I certainly had adult burdens.  My husband and I were still in the throes of raising three children and hoping to get it right; we were always pinching pennies; the Air Force moved us every few years; and we rarely lived close to family.  Not life-threatening stuff, but things about which I was always praying.  The truth is, life often feels burdensome.

This young pastor changed my perspective.  His words made me realize if I was feeling burdened, I had not given God my backpack of concerns.  I needed to let the thing slide off my shoulders.  I needed to - literally - lighten up.  Light is from God; heavy is not.

Our shoulders and hearts are not designed to carry heavy; we're stick people with short-term brains and breakable hearts.  God's shoulders are made of granite; His heart and mind cannot be moved, nor broken.  He alone can lift up the burdens of this world.

Once I processed this, I had a sense of liberation.  God did not create me to be worried and burdened.  He created me to rejoice in His strength and willingly give Him the backpack.  That's my job.  

Just give Him the backpack.

Once it begins to feel heavy, hand it over.

Over the years, I've remembered this at times and forgotten it at others.  We cling to our backpacks because we forget that God is trustworthy.  We simply forget.  Because, we're stick people with distractable brains and fickle hearts.

Luckily, God loves us anyway and keeps reaching for the crippling backpacks.  "Let it go," He whispers.  Sometimes we wrestle Him over it, which is really silly.  Granite vs. sticks.  Solid vs. inconsistent.  Strong vs. weak.

We're so human.  And He's so not.

And, isn't that great? 

 p.s. what's in your backpack today?  What's keeping you from handing it over? 
 

What's Your Idol?

Growing up, I understood idols to be gold cows and silver coins and men lusting after women who were not their wives.  I didn't own any cows (of any color) or silver, and men were just rude, I thought.  So, idols weren't a problem for me.

Thirty-plus years later, I get it.  I still don't have any cows or silver, and I still believe that, yes, men can be rude.  So can women, but that's another post.

But, my, oh my, how God reveals the heart...if we ask Him to.

Years ago, a pastor defined an idol as whatever we can't live without.  Because, the only thing that should have such a hold on us is God.

Under that definition, things look a bit different, don't they? 

This pastor was not saying we can't have things in life we enjoy, cherish, and love - like hobbies, people, and chocolate.   Life is a gift, and we are meant to celebrate it while we're here.  

But, we have to be careful that whatever we're devoted to does not rise above our honoring of and devotion to God, who gave us life itself.  Because, in the end, everything but God will turn to dust.  Even people.  God is the constant.  The only eternal element.

That Gucci bag?  It's temporary.

Those eight pairs of heels?  Temporary. 

Starbucks?  Temporary.

Supple skin, perky breasts, and silky hair?  (Yes, we can be our own god.)  Temporary.  (How well I know this.)

Fettuccine Alfredo, homemade bread, good wine, Nutella?  After spending a few decades on your hips....temporary.  

My house.  My PT Cruiser.  The big screen TV.   The NFL.  The NBA.  The Housewives of Wherever.  Even (sigh) my LOST DVDs.   All temporary.  Future dust.  

Facebook, Twitter, Pinterest, even (gasp) blogs - in the end, they won't matter.  We won't care.

This pastor offered two questions that generally reveal our idols.

1.  What do we spend our time on?
2.  What do we spend our money on?

Those are the things we value.  If we can't live without them.....well.

Something to ponder.

I know what my idols are, and I swat at them daily.  They're persistent little buggers.  They are highly ingrained desires that are not in themselves bad, I just spend too much time with them. (Beware: on the surface, idols always look attractive and harmless.) 

So, for all us idol worshipers, here's my prayer:

Dear Lord, help me to remember that only You and your love for me can ultimately satisfy my longing, human heart.  The glitter/vices of this world are deceptive and fleeting.  Help me be grateful for all that You provide, but to keep in the forefront of my mind to use my resources wisely.  Help me to keep things in perspective.  Help me to invest in things of eternal value.  Help me to put nothing before my relationship with You.  And, let no one bring home any M&Ms this week.

Amen.    

WHO'S the BOSS? (reminder #3)

I’m struggling to come to terms with some hard facts of life this week: 

1.  I can’t bar disappointment or suffering from visiting my loved ones. 

2.  I can’t face people’s demons for them, as much as I want to. 

3.  I can’t implant solutions into a problem when the problem is not mine to solve. 

4.  I can’t take a burden that is not assigned to me. 

5.  I can’t halt the aging process.

The bottom line - I cannot ensure anyone’s happiness or peace of mind. 

This is a painful reality to accept.  For years, as a parent, keeping a child safe and relatively happy is doable.  When kids are young, so much is in our control.  Once they are of age and interacting with the world on their own, we can only watch.

And help, if asked. 

At the other end, our own parents are capable and independent, and we don’t spend any time thinking that there will come a time when they will not be.

When that time comes, it’s surreal, because it’s never been like this before.  They resist help, and we don’t know what to do.

We realize they are people, and not simply our parents, and we have to carve out a new relationship of sorts.  Mainly, we just watch.

And help, if asked. 

Watching loved ones, young and seasoned, face challenges is difficult.

Which drives me to God, because I don’t know what else to do.

I would like to hop into the head of loved ones and rearrange the furniture, but God didn’t create that option.  So I just pray that I can be loving and wise, if I’m asked to help, which I’m not always. 

So while God works things out, I wait (impatiently) and watch (with ideas spinning around).  And try not to get in the way - which (surprise, surprise) is a challenge for me.

I tend to think I know what loved ones should do, but then God reminds me of number 3 above.  And I have to shut up.

I’m not very good at this, but I’m always working on it.   I suspect I’ll be working on it until I draw my last breath.

So, today, I’m reminding myself (again) that God is in charge.

He alone knows the hearts of my loved ones.

He alone can guide them and bring them peace of mind.

He doesn't need my help. 

I don’t know why it’s so easy to forget this.

Who's the Boss? (reminder #2)

"Man can make his plans, but it is the Lord's plans that will be established." 
                                                 The Bible, somewhere

Somebody, tell me where this scripture is.  I need to put it on my refrigerator.

For the past few months, I've worked on not having a daily agenda.  It feels chaotic at times, but it beats feeling frustrated when events change as quickly as they have since February.

This is my new motto: Plan nothing. 

Which is kind of impossible, so I modified it:  Plan some things, but don't get attached to them.   

Yesterday offered stretching exercises in living in the moment. (Control freaks, read no further.)

Plan A:  Gym at 8:30.  Fish market on the way home.  Shower, eat breakfast, go see Mom and wait on Dr. R. to approve my taking Mom to the hospital to see Dad.  Catch up on some reading while they visit. 

What really happened:  Gym at 8:30.  Mom called, the nurses needed some info.  Bagged shower and Cheerios.  Headed to see Mom.  On the way, popped in to the health food store for a power shake and wheat grass breakfast.     

Plan B:  See Dr. R., take Mom to see Dad.  Get home, shower, mop the gunk off the kitchen, clear off the mess of paperwork on the bar that has stacked up all week.

What really happened:  We waited an hour and a half for Dr. R.   I slurped on my shake and watched the food channel... 

I smelled my own workout odor and realized I might be in ratty, pungent gym clothes all day.  

I began to get dozey.  I was thinking I might head home and attempt to get the lovebirds together tomorrow, when a nurse told me Dr. R. was on the phone.  He approved the visit.  

He was at the hospital, checking on patients, one of whom would be Dad.  If I could get Mom to Dad's room in half an hour, he could check on them both at the same time.

Okey-dokey. 

Plan C:  Scoot across the street with Mom to the hospital.  Easy Peasy.  Hope the folks have a good visit; Mom is getting tired.  Maybe I'll read, maybe not. 

What really happened:  Mom and I packed up and rolled to the car.  The wheelchair was heavy and bulky, and I couldn't get it in the car.  I tossed stuff around and rearranged.  Still didn't fit.  

I remembered that the rehab room had transfer chairs that are smaller, so I took Mom's chair back to her room and went to the gym for a transfer chair.  The therapist told me they only had one, and it was checked out for the day.

OK, then.  Back to Mom's room to reclaim her own chair.  

Back out to the car.  I consolidated the junk in the back of my car and vowed to clean it out soon.  By partly disassembling the chair, I got in it.  Yay!  We drove all of two blocks to the hospital. 

Wheeled Mom into Dad's room.  He was delighted to see his bride...

They had a sweet reunion...

Here they are comparing wrist bands...

I dragged a chair into the hall to read.  I'd read three sentences when Dr. R. arrived to look over Dad's chart.  

Within five minutes, Dr. R. was listening to Mom's lungs and determined she needed another week of Levaquin.  No surgery until the 18th at least.  

This was a surprise because he said her chest X-ray looked OK.  Apparently, there can still be some "rumbling" in the lungs that an X-ray doesn't reveal.  

Even though Mom's surgery is serious, hearing that we needed to wait another week was somehow disappointing.  We had mentally prepared.  

Dr. R. moved on to patient #2.  He spent ten minutes explaining Dad's condition and new meds to us.  Mom drifted off a bit.  The folks were tired by this point.  

Then, Dr. R. announced Dad could go home.  Today.  Right then. 

Wonderful surprise!  But unexpected. 

Plan D:  Hustle Mom back across the street, get her cozied up for her nap, return to the hospital to take Dad home to Southland.  He was so excited to be returning to his own bed.  

What really happened:  Mom got settled in bed.  Back at the hospital, I ran into the husband of a friend who had back surgery on Wednesday.  She'd had some complications, but would be alright.

On my way to the 7th floor to get Dad, I stopped on the 6th floor to see my friend, who I'd not seen in awhile. We chatted a bit, and prayed for a good recovery.  She looked better than I expected, and I was glad that I learned of her surgery. 

 

When I got to Dad's room, the nurse was just going over his paperwork.  He was dressed and ready to go.  

On the way home, we swung into the drive-through at the pharmacy for Dad's two new drugs.  

"We don't stock Tikosyn," I was told.  "It's a special drug. But I can have the other medicine for you tomorrow morning."  

Hhhmm.  I pulled into the parking lot and called Dr. R.'s answering service.  Within five minutes, he called me.  "I'll find a pharmacy that has it and call you back," he said. 

I drove Dad home, where he was greeted with hugs from his Southland family.  He headed into the dining room for dinner.  

They were having crab cakes, which I love, so I decided to stay, and ordered a plate.  Before I sat down, Dr. R. called to tell me there was one CVS that stocked Tikosyn. 

Plan E: I'll scarf down my meal and hustle to the drug store.  Return with Dad's med, get him settled at home, head home myself.  Get a shower. 

What really happened:  My sunglasses broke leaving Southland.  Which was OK for the moment, because it was, by then, dusk.

I arrived at the CVS where the Tikosyn is stocked.  The pharmacist told me that this med can only be prescribed by a cardiologist who is registered with the pharmaceutical company.  Dr. R. is not Dad's cardiologist.  

No problem, I said.  Dad's cardio is Dr. J., and this order originated with him.  

The pharmacist called Dr. J's answering service, only to be told that Dr. J. was gone for the weekend.  Dr. C. was filling in.  However, Dr. C. was not registered with the Tikosyn plan.  

Good grief, I thought.  What kind of magic/scary potion is this?

I called Dr. R's answering service again.  I was hanging around the candy aisle, eyeballing a Russell Stovers box of truffles, when he called me back.  

"Tell the pharmacist to call Dr. J. on Monday.  Your Dad will be OK for 24 hours.  Tikosyn has a long half-life (whatever that means), so he should be OK until Monday."

Then he added, "I'm sorry this has been so complicated.  I didn't know we'd have all this trouble.  If the pharmacy can't reach Dr. J. on Monday, call me.  I can reach him."  

I thanked him and finalized plans with the pharmacist.  I bought some fish oil that was BOGO, and left.

When I got home, I had a little snack...

I listened to phone messages, checked emails, and started this post.  Pretty soon it was 11 p.m. 

I went to bed, pooped and unshowered.

It was a haphazard day.  But, one authored by a sovereign God. 

So, I'm OK with it (I keep reminding myself.)

My plan for today - get a shower.

I wonder what God has planned.