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.

My Marvelous Fiji Vacation

As we passed through security at the LA airport on our way to Fiji, Bob's glasses fell out of the bin and were mangled between the rollers. I managed to find and retrieve the lenses from under the conveyer belt, but when I held the plastic discs up to the twisted strips of metal that had been the frames, none of the shapes remotely matched. I wanted to show Bob all the spectacular things my mother and I had seen last year. How could he possibly see them now? My heart plunged into despair.

During the next few hours, God started showing me how my perfectionism puts a damper on my joy. I have a hard time being happy unless everything is just right. And not just with me, but also with those around me. How can I be happy if the people I care about are having troubles?

Could I overlook this glasses catastrophe and enjoy my vacation? I prayed for a miracle−only divine intervention could put these Humpty Dumpty glasses back together again. Then I wrestled with God as I strained to let go, accept and enjoy the trip.

In Fiji, we took our sorry handful of parts to a new jeweler in town who was able to fix them. Later that day each lens fell out again, but God enabled me to slip them back into place. They miraculously remained intact the rest of the trip.

On the boat ride to the resort, God again blessed me with new wonders as, to our delight, we saw flying fish soaring above the waves and dolphins arching alongside our vessel. With fresh enthusiasm I bounded into the resort dining room to greet my favorite staff member.

A new server greeted me. When I asked if John was there, she hesitatingly told me he died unexpectedly last month. Died. Tears blurred my vision as reality set in. Was I now supposed to enjoy a happy vacation in light of such grave news?

Over the next few hours I processed the ramifications of John's life and death. I remembered his hospitality and kindness to me, and his prayers for my salvation and healing when I had the bends. He had told me his testimony so I knew he was a Christian, and at peace in heaven. I accepted life there without him, and let him go.

The skies were sunny when we arrived at Namena Island, but that afternoon a storm blew in and remained the entire week we were there. The year before, perfectly calm weather enabled my mother and I to snorkel the reef almost every day. This time the wind-blown waves were so rough we couldn't do this even once. But God continued to show his grace by giving us four beautiful dives, wowing us with His underwater creation. He showed His love by parting the clouds whenever we dove, casting rays of sunlight into the depths to reveal the vibrant colors.

Bob and I had a romantic, intimate week huddled in our cliff-side cottage, sheltered from the wind. We couldn't see all the amazing critters from past trips, but God gifted us with new ones. The protected red-footed boobie birds were sitting on their nests, and we got to see one of the first fluffy chicks up close.

Each day brought new surprises−a garden of giant clams, sightings of blue-spotted stingrays, and a swim with a school of barracuda. We even got to cuddle some adorable, tame flying foxes (yes−they are bats). There were a few more disappointments. I got sick shortly after our kids joined us, and the accommodations at the last resort were challenging. But God guided me through and helped me make the best of each circumstance.

Jesus showed me it's normal to have some bad mixed with the good. Everything doesn't have to be perfect for me to be happy. It's okay to deal with the problems with God's help and let them go, then focus on the good gifts God showers on me.

It was a joyous vacation.