Surrender

Surrender.  How quickly I move from one area of holding on to yet another.

It loomed large last week, this decision making surrounding insulin therapy.  All encompassing, overwhelming it was to think of giving up eighteen years of what I had come to know and feel secure in...needles and pens.  Could I surrender to change and an advanced way to manage my health care?

Seven days later I am on new terrain.  Seven days of processing and questions answered and attentive professionals and wealthy information and I am at peace with adopting pump therapy.  Still seven weeks from having to sign on the dotted line, but my pen is in hand.

But now there's more.  A new area rather.  A new area to process, more to ask of me, more to ask of God, more to empty myself of, more to surrender.

Is it always to be this way?

A reconciliation with one mountain only to find myself at the base of another?

And this one towers...immense, and I wonder, can I ever truly reach this mountain's summit?  It's overshadowed my days far too long e'en though I've prayed fervently and sought in earnest to lay it all at His feet.

But I'm being summoned again by the One who is jealous for me...all of me and I desire to abandon myself to His ways...an emptying of me so there can be a filling of Him.  The way is opaque before me, but He will lead the dance and I will fall into step as we go.

Pump me up...or Not

"You are what we refer to as a 'brittle diabetic'", she said.  I think the Insulin Pump would work well for you."

I continue to mull those words over in my mind, seeking to digest the implications of this advice from my Endocrinologist.  It's true that I have been unable to maintain stable blood sugars for some time now, regardless of adhering to a strict diet.  The orderly ways in which I govern my lifestyle the majority of the time is failing to reward me on a consistent basis.  And so I find myself at this crossroads with an April 19(my next appointment) date set as decision day.

I could still continue with multiple daily injections or I can choose this alternative therapy which will ultimately provide me with better control of my blood sugars.  I suppose when one reads this from an objective side, the decision seems obvious.  Even writing this, filled with my subjective thoughts, I can clearly see the fork in the road that I should take.  And in all probability, I will decide to venture into new terrain in order to give my body the optimum care possible.

But it doesn't mean that there are not a myriad of thoughts and feelings thrown into this decision which I must think through, and come to terms with.  There will be intensive changes to my life in the initial period as I adapt to something fresh and new.  Change and I are not kindred spirits by any stretch, but I am much better equipped to enter into change than in past years.

In the meantime, my doctor has outlined a concentrated regime for me to follow.  She bowed to my request to try another method of seeking to achieve control of my blood sugars.  In hindsight, I am somewhat questioning my ask of her, as I'm now experiencing an overdose of focus on this area of my health.

Gratefully, I am not alone in this.  I'm blessed with people who will listen to this whirlwind in my mind, and as time goes on, I will have the gift of professionals who are able and willing to assist me on this journey.

It doesn't surprise me that surrender is an area of my heart that God has been addressing with me these past weeks.  Lent too, is nearing, which is drawing me into a frame of heart that will benefit me over these next couple of months.  God is carefully putting details in place to enable me to respond well.

I love that I can rest in God's all sufficiency.  I'm thankful that He accepts my uncensored thoughts and the emotional shading within my being, which at times colors reason.  I know that though this feels bigger than me, that it is microscopic to Him. I know that all He asks of me is trust--

One day at a time.

Birthday Blessings...A Hundredfold

I am now officially closer to 50 than to 40.  Sigh.  Forty-five felt rather neutral I suppose, but 46 reminds me that time is marching on to that half a century mark.  And that seems so impossible.  Gertrude Stein says, "We are always the same age inside."  I couldn't agree more!  There are a multitude of ways in which I still feel like a young girl.  I think that's a good thing.

Oh blessed day yesterday....snail mail, e-mail and phone well-wishers were part of my bounty throughout the day.   Once I had finished the lunch dishes, that was the last of any domesticated work.  I went out shopping for a brief time and then went to the gym with Ashley and friend for a workout. 

Meanwhile, Cam was home making supper!!!  He was quite the trooper yesterday, spending 3 hours in the kitchen preparing my birthday meal:  Savory Rice, Herbed Chicken, Squash, and Home made French Bread.  The aroma was incredible!!

  Does that not look amazing?!!!!!!!!  It was as scrumptious as it looks.

I opted for no birthday cake.  I can only enjoy a small piece anyway, and then I would just be sitting there watching the rest of my family gorge on MY birthday cake.  Instead I feasted on my own version of a decadent dessert...1/3 cup ice cream, sugar free chocolate sauce, a tbsp. of  Soybutter and some soya nuts.  With a birthday candle of course!

My children showered me with "Juanita gifts" which means card making paper and supplies, a gift card and candle.  The birthday card was my fav.  Oh, honorable mention should also be given to my kids who got along during the entire celebration event!!!  Someday they will understand what a gift this is!!!

My hubby knows my love language as well, and gave me a Gift Certificate for a 60 minute Aromatherapy Massage at my favorite spa just down the street.  "Thanks my sweetheart...can hardly wait!"

I ended the day with a long bubble bath, reading in bed and knowing the peaceful joy of being richly blessed.

My Baby Girl...Growing Up

I can still hear my OB's announcement singing in my ears, "It's a girl!", he called out.  I remember bursting into tears, deeply grateful for the safe arrival of all that spelled pink and lace and ponytails. 

In a few months she will be sweet sixteen.  There is a shock and normalcy to this next stage.  It did not all happen overnight.  Each stage came upon us and somehow just meshed into the next stage.  I never wanted to hurry any stage, no matter how difficult.  It was just "where we were at".  But I did at times, wish that the calender would come to a standstill and we would stay a little longer in a particular season. 

Oh sure, those early years were physically draining and emotionally trying.
With a newborn there was the constant care  of providing even just the basics.  Sometimes I was overcome with fear, wondering why her fever continued to prevail.   And the toddler years?  Teaching seemed to be a constant as she discovered life in a myriad of ways.  I was being taught myself.  I had an auburn haired part of my DNA who was part of me but not me.  I was learning who she was.  I distinctly remember Kindergarten.  In many ways it was a very somber time within me as I faced this stark reality.  The world will now have my daughter for six hours, five days a week.  Up until then, I decided what would make up her world.  I chose what would fill her little mind.  I purposefully nurtured her according to who she was.

I suppose in many ways, I'm feeling this sobering, inescapable fact right now.  But it travels even further.  It's not just that she spends time in the world's environment.  It's this very real reality that the world is calling my daughter's name.  Often and consistently, something other than home is vying for her attention.  My mother heart yearns to be that ever present filter and ongoing protector of her mind and heart.  At times my lips voice "yes" when my heart is screaming "no".  Regularly I am caught up in the drama of a moment, desperately searching for the right response.  Yes, she is still in need of my guidance and authority and nurturing.  I'm not giving up my mother-role by no means!  But I cannot always be the voice over her shoulder.  It is well within her age requirement to be learning a growing sense of independence.  It is important that she venture out and make her own decisions and make choices.

But I can't say I like it.  Truthfully, it scares me.  A lot.  I see the excitement in her eyes after a sleepover with friends.  I hear the frustration in her voice when we limit her adventures to non-alcoholic parties.  I hear the teenage angst of how much life sucks at times.   The song that the world sings to her is strong and clear and enticing.

This morning I sang another song in my place of worship.  Several songs actually...

"Fear not, for I am with you", says the Lord. 

"Glory, glory, Hallelujah He reigns."

"Why should I be afraid when You put the stars in place?
 Why should I lose heart when I know how great You are?
 You shine brighter than the brightest star--filling us with courage and hope to follow You."

My pastor spoke on Daniel and the strength of this truth tugged at my heart, "Yahweh is above all gods."

For that hour, I listened to His voice and feasted on His promises and drank in His power.  I need the wattage of these truthful reminders.  I need them often. I need them daily.

My baby girl is growing up.  I know this hasn't caught her Creator by surprise.  He's fully "in the know", and fully God. 

"O secret Christ,
Lord of the rose of dawn,
hide me within Thy silent peace,
that throughout the turmoil of day,
I may abide within the quiet of the daybreak."
--Anonymous  



 






 

Slowly

Slowly, ever so slowly, I'm crawling towards grace.  The crawling seems to be what best describes my movement.  It's slow, laborious at times, and with the knowledge that I am still so much in the baby stage of grasping this mind-boggling gift called grace. 

This afternoon there seemed a gentleness of the presence of God and Jesus.  I generally find them both to be taskmasters.  Of course this is wholly because I live so much under my own laws and my need to keep my pencil ready to scratch off another check mark.

But I am so intent on not living here anymore.  I am purposefully seeking grace.

Today I met with my Spiritual Director again.  She is truly a gift from God in my life.  Shauna Niequist, in her book, "Cold Tangerines", shares these words..words I resonate with:

"My friend goes to a spiritual director, and I was asking her about it, and she said, basically, Sister Carmen asks her to talk about her life, and she points out the presence and action and grace of God when my friend didn't even notice it was there.  So it was there all along, and the trick is learning to see it.  
Each one of our lives is shot through, threaded in and out with God's provision, his grace, his protection, but on the average day, we notice it about as much as we really notice gravity or the hole in the ozone.  So what I'm trying to do is learn to see the way Sister Carmen sees.  Because once you start seeing the faithfulness and the hope, you see it everywhere...And little by little, here and there, you realize that...all of life is littered with bits and stories of God's goodness."

This is what I experience when I sit with my Spiritual Director.  I feel somewhat like a schoolgirl(except that I don't recall having had a desire to learn at that point in my life.  But now, when it comes to my spiritual journey, I am aching to learn.  And being in the presence of one who is so very gifted in imparting Christ to me, is incredibly gratifying.

So I keep crawling.  And I'm okay with that.  I think this process needs to be slow and methodical; an integral part of the preparation for walking in grace. 

"Spirit of the Living God,
I live this day in the presence of your truth,
by the power of your grace,
with thanksgiving for the longing
I have for you and
the longing you have for me.
Drench me, shape me, move me.
Amen."
--Pamela Hawkins
"The Awkward Season:  Prayers for Lent"
 

 

 


 

I Am Not

"Life is the tale of two stories--one finite and frail, the other eternal and enduring.  The tiny one--the story of us--is as brief as the blink of an eye.  Yet somehow our infatuation with our own little story--and our determination to make it as big as we possibly can--blinds us to the massive God Story that surrounds us on every side."

And so speaks the first paragraph of Louie Giglio's book, "i am not but i know I AM--Welcome to the Story of God.". 

http://www.amazon.ca/Am-Not-But-Know-Welcome/dp/1590522753/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1296262718&sr=1-1


 Perhaps a somewhat awkward sounding title, but it's pages are anything but awkward.  The words being driven into my soul are re-framing how I think about my life's story.

It could just be my sense, but I am wondering if we Christ followers in general have become somewhat wrapped up in our own personal stories.  We often talk about "my story" and our quest to see God intersect throughout the pages of "our lives".  In seasons of intense struggle, loss or suffering, we sooooo crave to see His handwriting on the parchment of our everyday living.  At least these are laments I hear, and ones which I have expressed myself.

And don't we so deeply desire our stories to be full and big and yes, even glamorous?  I do.  It's been a road that I've been on since I was a little girl and began hearing the age old question, "What do you want to be when you grow up?"  And now that I am grown up (or so they tell me), I'm still reading through the pages of my life and wondering if it's full or big or glamorous.  Okay, so it's definitely not  glamorous.

Don't get me wrong.  Desiring to see God's hand print is what often encourages and spurs us on.  I'm just thinking that we need to reverse our thinking.  Perhaps we need to let God take His rightful place, and we ours.  It's God's story that should get center stage.  And yes we are a part of His story, but oh such a tiny, minuscule part.

I'm quite sure that if I had even a glimpse of the far reaching height and depth of the tapestry He's weaving, I would be more content with the single thread that I am.  If I wholly believed that His plans are sovereign and good, I'm sure I would more graciously accept the way in which He's weaving the events of my life.

Like I said, there's a re-framing of my mind going on.  And if it means opening the eyes of my heart to the bigness of my God
    and realizing the 
           smallness that is me,
than I say, "Come Holy Spirit and teach me." 

Creating

"When you are completely caught up in something, you become oblivious to things around you, or to the passage of time.  It is this absorption in what you are doing that frees your unconscious and releases your creative imagination."--Rollo May  "The Courage to Create"

I'm thankful to my husband who allowed my indulgence this weekend in creating a new look to my blog.  My kids are gone to Snow Camp and did not have to endure my absorption with this wildly exciting, sometimes frustrating project. 

I love that my Creator gives me the joy of creating in small, but enjoyable ways.

Twas rejuvenating...now for restful sleep.

A Work in Progress

I'm having fun...but I'm still figuring this all out...and it's time to call it a night!!
Back tomorrow!

His Presence

I love her depth and insight.  I love her authentic words filled with hope and promises and purpose.  I love her attentiveness and willingness to probe into my soul.  I love the way in which she takes a few verses from my Bible and brings them to life...so that I might have life.

Yet again, my Spiritual Director has pulled back the curtains to reveal truth and beauty in God's Word. 

It was a familiar story in the book of Matthew and although there is much in all that unfolds between Jesus and his disciples, all that you need to be aware of is that this group of men are out at sea in what the Bible refers to as a "tormenting" wind.  If that isn't terrifying enough, they think they are seeing a ghost coming towards them on the water.  Of course it is Jesus, but they do not know this until He says:


"Take courage,
      it is I;
           do not be afraid."

It's the three simple but powerful words, sandwiched in between the others, that I find so captivating.

"It is I."

Jesus.

Jesus is there.  In the whipping wind and the tossing waves.  In the dark of night and the frozen fear of the disciples.

And if Jesus is there...and He is...everything changes.

 Who else can tell me to have courage and me reach out with both hands?  Who else dare shell out the words, "do not be afraid?" 

Only Jesus.  

Now to really live as though His presence makes a difference.  I mean it's one thing for the words of God to leap off the page, but quite another to acknowledge and invite and rest in His presence throughout the course of my day.  I so desire this reality.  And if anyone can make it happen, He's the One.

So tomorrow, if the wind takes my breath away, or fear grips my heart, or if it's just a harder-than-normal part of my day which threatens to throw me off course, I sincerely hope I remember Jesus.  I hope I will stop long enough to hear Him say, "It is I." 

Because I know His presence changes everything.   

Starting Today with Grace

"Oh Father God, I invite You into my weakness and ask You to be my strength.

I acknowledge that You have won the victory--I only need to receive it.

I am reminded that I do not need a new program or method to run my life.  I need the person of Jesus Christ.

I am aware that trying harder will not put an end to my inner turmoil.   Trusting Christ alone to express Himself through me is the pathway my feet should take.

My felt need of learning to cope is better replaced by surrendering MY resources to Him.

Thinking that I must be more committed is erroneous.  Letting God do what HE wants with me is all that's required.

The issue it not my performance.  The issue is my identity--it's in Christ."

Our "Farewell to the Holiday's" Adventure: World Junior Hockey

What a fantastic way for our family to end the holidays!  My hubby was given 4 tickets to the World Junior Quarter Finals in Buffalo for Sunday Jan 2.  Our excitement was increased dramatically when we learned that Canada was going to be playing against Switzerland.  Brian started e-mailing people for Canada Jerseys so we could be part of the sea of red and white.  Three out of the four of us ended up sporting Canadian attire.

It may have been only a 2 1/2 hour game, but we knew it was going to an all day affair for us with traveling time.  Sunday morning found us preparing lunches and gathering passports, American $, boots, coats, hats and mitts.  Except Cam of course.  Remember, he's the guy who eats farmer's corn and half eaten pitas from the side of the road.  We did manage to convince him to wear a winter coat, reminding him that we were going to park a distance from the HSBC Arena and that weather was forecast as windy, cold and snow flurries.   But take along mitts??? " What for???  I've got pockets."  I told him that pockets wouldn't help him if he had to push the car out of the ditch.  But Mr. Debater indicated that in such a situation, his mother would be in the car and he could borrow my mitts!!!  (Mentioning all of this will become important in this adventure later on)

10:30 a.m. and we are out the door and on our way.  A brief stop before the border gave us time to eat our prepared lunches in the car.  Then on to join the lengthy lines of vehicles filled with excited Canadians waiting to cross the border.  It was a 45 minute lesson in patience for Ashley who does not like to wait. Personally I thought it was awesome!
We arrived well in advance of the 3:30 game start, and were able to park on a street for free.  Much better than the $60 price gouging lots we were warned of.

  Because my procrastinating daughter still had an unfinished homework assignment, we stayed in the car for a time while she laboriously sought to complete it.  The car engine was off, but music still playing(because heaven forbid that she would have to work in silence!!)  Eventually, the chill was becoming too much for me, and Brian turned on the ignition.

Nothing
.
He tried again.

Nothing.

Oh my...not good.  So what does one do when your car doesn't start and Canada is warming up for the big game?  YOU WORRY ABOUT THE CAR LATER AND GO TO THE GAME!!!!

The game was not the thunderously loud riot we had expected, but still, tons of fun for all of us.  The first period was mostly a nail biter until Canada tied it up.  As the goals slowly increased, we relaxed a little more and cheered for all we were worth each time the puck found its way past the Swiss goalie.  What a feeling to be in an arena filled with Canadians!!!  It was such a unified roaring-to-our-feet celebration with each goal.  I just loved it!!!  Final score? (For those of you who don't watch hockey....do you people really exist???!!!!) 4-1 for Canada!!!!!!!!!  Woo-hoo!!!

 Thanks to my brother for this Jersey!!!!!!

 Now for the trek back to our dead car.  Of course we are all hoping it will miraculously start and yes, some of us prayed for this.  But why end the adventure with the hockey game?

The car continued to quietly protest the turning of the key.

Now, there are two tangents I must go on to explain this ongoing saga.  Remember my boy without mitts?  The one who is now standing outside in the cold and wind with his father opening up the hood of the car?  Yep, that boy.  I opened my door and called to him, "Cam, do you want to borrow my mitts?"

"Sure", came the response with a grin attached.  Need I say more!!!

Shortly thereafter, a nice young Canadian fan arrived to pick up his vehicle and helped to give us a boost.   Thanks so much!!!

The other tangent I must mention is that apparently it was MY fault that the car wouldn't start.  You see, I prayed that the car would start OR that God would provide someone to help us.  But this, I discovered, makes God think.  Because I gave Him two options, He now has to weigh them out and make a decision.  I should have just kept it simple with, "Please make the car start."

Ashley's response to the 2 nameless people who blamed me, was, "I can't believe you're arguing about God...I think He does whatever the heck it is that He wants to."  Ha,ha

Okay let's get back to that warm, humming car, and make our way back across the border.  It was probably closer to 30 minutes this time, of waiting to enter our "home and native land".  Meanwhile, the discussion revolved around whether we were going to stop for supper at Swiss Chalet and risk the car dying again, or go through a drive through.  We opted to stop, and enjoyed a delicious dinner as a family, with a server who actually enjoyed her job!!  (Unlike the border personnel who clearly dislike what they do)

And the car started!!!!!!!!  "Thanks God" :)

Destination...home.  Arrival...9:35 pm.  An absolutely fun-filled, adventure laden, memory-making day, and a perfect way to bid farewell to the holiday

 Can't wait for the really big game tonight!!!!!!!!!!!


 Now, for a return to what I'm calling, "The 6 R's"

Return to routines
Reduce food consumption
Reinstate exercise
Reintroduce flossing (yes, I took a holiday from that too!)
Recall memory-filled moments of Christmas
Remember... this new year is a gift