From Dark to Light

A dark cloud loomed over my bed this morning as I awoke thinking about a friend's health problem. Nothing I could do about it. Then I realized I had started my day with negative thoughts. I know what to do. Go to God.

"Dear Jesus, please help my friend. Touch her today with your healing hand. Let her know you're there, and how much you love her. Guide her in Your plan."

My heart felt lighter for a few seconds, then another friend's relationship feud came to mind. My chest tightened as I imagined the possible outcome of her circumstances. Take it to God right now.

"Dear God, you are the God of justice and mercy. Please comfort my friend. Give her peace in her chaos. Please work this situation to good for all concerned. In Jesus' name, amen."

Before I had the chance to resume a normal breathing pattern, another friend with multiple woes took center stage.

"They try so hard, God, but keep getting bombarded with one thing after another. Please help them, and let me know if there's something I can do."

"Give her a call this evening."

"I will."

All morning, problem after problem kept entering my mind. Each time, instead of dwelling on it, I deflected the situation up to God. As I did, I felt the clouds lift. My powerful God would be there for them. With Jesus' help hope shined through.

What started out as depressing thoughts turned into a morning of prayer and fellowship with my Savior. My friends had asked me to pray for them. I felt good about remembering to actually do it. God turned my negative thoughts into positive ones. Doing this did brighten my day.

 

What Do You Think?

I recently heard the average person has over 600,000 thoughts a day, and the vast majority of these−over 75%--are negative. Do you think this is true? It got me thinking about my own self-talk. Do I do this? If so, in what ways? I decided to take a week and evaluate my thought life. If the majority of my thoughts are negative, then replacing them with positive ones should improve my attitude and brighten my days. I'll keep you posted (this is the accountability part).

How Should I Feel?

Three people who are dear to me are in the middle of painful crises. In each situation, God is working miracles, and it looks like they will all be better off in the end than before. Should I be sad for the pain they are enduring, or happy because God is bringing them through?

I tend toward empathy. This morning I woke up feeling emotionally off. Of course I did. These tragic events shook me up. I reasoned that I should feel bad because bad things happened, and people I love are hurting.

I also lean toward worry. But that was hard for even me to do when God's guiding hand was working such obvious wonders and healing. Why be anxious? He has each situation under control.

So…should I feel happy today instead? I pondered and wrestled with God about this new idea.

It feels wrong to feel good in these circumstances.

Why?

Because they are in the middle of hardship.

I'm working everything out with them.

I care about what happens.

Pray for them.

Sharing their pain paralyzes me. Is it okay to focus on You and what You're doing, instead? May I let go of the hurt and trust your control of their situations?

Yes, you may.

Here's a radical thought. May I go one giant leap forward and actually rejoice in the good You're working?

Absolutely. I call that faith.

In that moment, I felt the Holy Spirit's power energize and lighten my heart. The pain disappeared, replaced by a tenuous joy.

This feels good, but do I have enough faith to endure? How long can I look past the waves of their present struggles and keep my eyes on Jesus?

And can I possibly accept this very imperfect situation? Is it really imperfect? I think of perfect as calm and trouble-free. Maybe God's perfect plan involves the pain of growth. Hmm.

Then I saw it−clear as day. Their trials are between God and them. Only they can work them out. I had a boundary issue. Yes, I must touch and understand their hurt, but not take the pain upon myself and carry it around all day. I should keep myself as healthy as possible so I can help. My job is to pray and encourage.

So today I'm drinking the whole glass of God's loving provision by exercising my faith in God's sovereignty, and focusing on His wonderful workings in my loved one's lives.

 

The Perfect Plan

All I wanted was for Mother to get the best care possible after her accident. Diagnosis and treatment−that seemed easy enough. In the emergency room, the barrage of complex tests and speed of specialist visits impressed me. Things were progressing quickly until Mom got admitted to a hospital room.

Once there, communication bogged down. The doctor gave a wrong order, the Physical Therapy department inadvertently canceled their diagnostic evaluation, the nurse misunderstood my mom's pain level, etc. I tried my best to intercede and clarify in an attempt to get the right help for the correct symptoms. But the harder I tried, the worse things seemed to get. In the end I had to give up on perfection and let others flounder around while Mother suffered. It was excruciating to watch.

Through this experience I learned we don't have a perfect hospital system, but we do have a perfect Savior. Jesus filled my heart with peace as I trusted that, though Mom's care seemed mediocre, he had the situation in his hands. God doesn't promise to eliminate the bad, but to walk us through in victory, and even in the worst circumstances, to work for the good of those who love him.

And he proved himself faithful. God provided caring staff all along the way to encourage us, and an extremely qualified surgeon who exceeded our expectations with his skill. God answered the myriads of prayers offered up by friends, and my mom's pleas for strength to persevere. Through it all he drew our family even closer to each other and to himself.

Over the last few months, Jesus prepared me for this ordeal by teaching me that things don't have to be perfect to be okay (see my Nov. & Dec. blog posts). Knowing this enabled me to drink the whole glass of God's love by letting go, accepting Plan B and watching God work in ways I couldn't have imagined.

Mother returned home last week in good spirits and well on her way to recovery.

Victory in Defeat

The midnight call two weeks ago knocked the wind out of me. My 82 year old mother had fallen, so my sister and I rushed to the hospital. I floated through the next five days in a nightmare of miscommunications and mistakes by hospital staff, while we sat watching Mother suffer. Taking on the role of advocate, I questioned, prodded and nagged in an attempt to get better, quicker service. But alas, the hospital system is hard to buck. In the end, the authorities won. I couldn't bear to sit by and watch them hurt my mom. Powerless and broken, I retreated home in defeat.

Alarmed by my disheveled state, Bob suggested I read a book by a certain lady he knew (me). He was right. I needed to seek God for help. I thought back on my book topics. Chapter one says trying to control something I have little or no control over causes stress. That explained my burnout. Turning the situation over to the One who has ultimate control relieves stress, but how could I in this case? All patients need an advocate to look, listen and fight for their welfare when they are disabled. I felt an urgency to stay in the mix and do what I could. Only now, that wasn't much. In my weakened state I could only sit on the sofa and mourn.

I rested, ate and requested prayer support. I listened for God's voice as I read my Bible. I washed clothes and straightened cushions on the sofa, stalling off the inevitable wrestling match with God. Finally I forced myself into the front room and turned on my praise music. With hands and heart raised but clenched I let the music slowly sink in.

"But God, I hurt. This is too hard."

"I know."

"It's my mom. I have to keep fighting, don't I?"

The music pounded on.

"I know I need to release her to you, but I can't."

"I am here."

"How can I know you'll take care of her?"

"Because I love you, and I love her."

With tear-filled eyes I watched my fists struggle to open.

"I can't let go. The stakes are too high. I need to make things happen. I have to save my mom."

The song tugged at my heart, declaring God's strength, God's care.

In an anguished act of will, I forced my fingers to move a couple of inches, my hands now upraised cups. Then, with a final cry and God's help, I uncurled my fingers and flattened my hands.

It was done. I was free.

Peace and strength replaced torment and fear. The painful ache inside me dissipated as a quiet confidence in God grew. Now I could return to Mother's bedside, with my Lord leading the way.

A Merrier Christmas

Gazing at the sparkling array of lights and ornaments on the Christmas tree is one of my favorite things to do, but putting up the tree is not. My beloved Christmas CDs and a steamy cup of hot chocolate usually sweeten the chore, but not this year. As I painstakingly labored to place each ornament in just the right place, I became aware that I felt so grumpy it hurt. How sad is that−having such a bad attitude I felt sick while preparing the Christmas joy?

Why did I dislike this chore so much? My perfectionism−again. With each stage of decorating, I faced the daunting task of arranging decorations symmetrically on an asymmetric tree. The garland needed to drape in a precise spiral. Every shiny ball must be evenly spaced and color balanced.

Frustration gripped me as gaping holes appeared at every turn. An almost imperceptible voice in my head whispered I don't want to do this. Press on and just get it done. Must find the perfect place for this one. No, that's not good enough. I hate this.

But wait a minute. This was a Christmas task. Shouldn't I be able to do it cheerfully?

How Lord?

My thoughts went back to four years ago when my arms ached while decorating the tree because of nerve damage from the bends. I should be happy to have healthy arms to reach and move. How many other people are not physically able to do what I can?

I have a beautiful tree, but that wasn't always so. In this economy, how many others wish they had a tree to adorn and enjoy? I should be grateful for all I have.

As my thinking shifted, the ache in my stomach disappeared. Just like that. The Christmas music seemed to get louder, and my newfound sense of wellbeing nudged me on.

I started thanking God for the people and events that came to mind with each ornament I picked up. My heart warmed with each fond memory.

Somehow, having a perfect tree didn't seem so important now. Instead of agonizing over the placement of each ornament, I started slapping them up just to get them on. I could always reposition them later. But a funny thing happened−I only changed a few. Most were fine just where they were.

This year for Christmas I received the antidote for grouchiness−thankfulness. I also took another step in conquering that joy-killer−perfectionism. Now it truly is a merrier Christmas.

Appreciation Drawing

Again, thanks to everyone who encourages me by posting on my blog. It helps to know others can relate to my feelings and experiences. Last week I put all follower's and commenter's names in a basket and Wendy's name was drawn to receive the thank you gift. I greatly appreciate her support and affirming words, as I do all of yours.