On turning 40...

Forty isn't old, if you're a tree-anonymous 

Today I turn 40, the big 4-0.  I'd love to impress you with all the cool things I did to usher in a new decade, but I spent the last day of my 30s pretty uneventfully.  I cleaned some things around the house, did some laundry, got myself a coffee on my way into work, and spent the afternoon and evening at work-with people MUCH older than 40.   Suddenly, 40 didn't seem so old after all.  Ahhh, perspective.     After work, I came home and said "goodbye" to my 30s.    I thought about some things.  I thought about a lot of things.  

I clearly remember when I was about to turn 30.  That was a hard birthday.  I knew I was supposed to really be a grown up and have my act together at 30, but I wasn't even anywhere close to having much of anything together.   I thought, well maybe I'd have it figured out when I hit 40.  Now I'm 40 and the more I learn the less I feel I really know.   

But that's OK.  At 40 I'm not thinking about how I'm going to figure things out anymore.  I don't need to.  Figuring things out isn't really working for me.  Trusting and believing and staying true to the One who knit me together,  planned out every one of my days, and wrote them in a book before I was even born-that's where I need to keep my focus. (Psalm 139:13-16)  Even when I don't understand, I just need to keep walking-walking ahead, walking through the pain in the night and walking in the joy that comes in the morning, walking through "goodbyes", walking through endings, walking through new beginnings, walking in the wind and rain and sunshine and warm breezes alike, walking the course that has been set before me, and following the examples of those who are faithful in their walk and those who have been faithful and have finished their course.   Just walking faithfully in His plan for my life, no matter what lies ahead.

I am blessed to have others that link their arms with mine and choose to walk with me.   God has made us and fashioned us for relationships, with Himself and with each other.   I'm grateful for those I call friends(family included).   One of my heart-sister friends introduced me, some time ago, to Patty Griffin (one of my favorite artists)  She has this song called 10 million miles, that I love love love.  
"I must've walked 10 million miles" and I'm sure I have at least as many miles left to walk.   And so even when I don't understand my path I must keep walking.   When the clouds are blocking the light and I don't know which way this path is leading, when I can only see directly in front of me,  I must keep walking.   My friends, let us walk on in the path that is set before us.  Let's  not veer off, even if another way  looks better, even if the path we are on is suddenly looking pretty scary, even if we lose people along the way,  even if our path is rough and we see  pain up ahead, let us stay the course.   Because we know that He works ALL things out for our good when we love Him and are called according to His purpose (Romans 8:28) Even when we may feel alone,  let's remember that  He has promised to never leave or forsake us (Hebrews 13:5).  
At 40 years old I am so grateful that I have never walked a single mile alone.  Thank you to all my friends who have walked with me.  I "search for your sweet face" as I walk, for encouragement to keep on keepin' on.  

And friends, if I should  start to repeat to you the same story I told you yesterday, or start discussing my popping knee joint and sore back, or worse yet, continuously discuss how often my bowels move, all I can say is I'm 40 and walking 10 million miles takes its toll.

Thanks for reading.

The Search for Change

Because we are the Body of the Wounded Healer and we are the people who believe the impossible— that wounds can be openings to the beauty in us.  We’re the people who say: there’s no shame saying that your heart and head are broken because there’s a Doctor in the house. It’s the wisest and the bravest who cry for help when lost.  There’s no stigma in saying you’re sick because there’s a wounded Healer who uses nails to buy freedom and crosses to resurrect hope and medicine to make miracles.  There’s no guilt in mental illness because depression is a kind of cancer that attacks the mind. You don’t shame cancer, you treat cancer. You don’t treat those with hurting insides as less than. You get them the most treatment.-Ann Voskamp


May is Mental Health Awareness Month.   Can I get WOO HOO?  Yea, not so much, right?   Who wants to bring to attention those ugly things that attack our minds?   Too often we turn away from people, and sometimes even ourselves, who are plagued with mental illness.  We would never say to a man with a broken leg, "Hey, you.  I want you to run" and then criticize him because he didn't  run fast enough, balanced enough, or well enough.  And yet we say to others whose minds are just as broken, "Hey, don't feel that way" or "just count your blessings" or worse yet "You are a Christian, you're not supposed to be this way."    Oh, I think we mean well, we just don't necessarily want to get our hands dirty.  I'm certainly not suggesting that everyone get involved in helping people who suffer with mental illness.   Not everyone is cut out for that.  What I am suggesting is that we, as a society, and especially as those who are believers in Christ, stop drawing our own conclusions and sitting in judgement of things we just don't understand.   And maybe extend a little grace and kindness to those who are suffering, rather than more blame and shame on them for a condition they can't control.

On my way home from a Dr. appointment, in utter frustration, I called my sister.  I cried and yelled and told her how it wasn't fair, how I didn't want to take medicine my whole life long because I couldn't control my mind.  I told her I don't mind taking medicine for my stomach, because that's physical, but this...this is because I'm crazy?!   Why can't I just be better, just make myself not go up and down like a yo-yo,  Just not have panic attacks,  just go places and live my life without this constant inner turmoil and struggle to live??   Everyone's going to see that I'm different.  They are going to say it's all my fault that I'm like this"   And She, being her, said "SO WHAT!  They don't know you, it doesn't matter what they think.  And just because you can't see it doesn't mean it's not broken."    Yes.  She's right.    Just because we can't see it, doesn't mean it's not broken.

Some days are hard and I wish I were anyone but me.  I wish I were strong and brave and free.  I down right wish myself away and pray for a better girl, a better wife, a better friend, and a better mother to come in and take my place.   I wrote this down one day when I was searching for change, desperate to rid myself of some of the yuck-that is me.   Instead, I found a grace large enough to cover all of who I am.   I believe in a God who heals, and I believe in a God who covers us with grace while He does the healing in His time.  And in the meantime...His grace is sufficient for me and His strength is made perfect in my weakness, so I'm going to fly my freak flag high and proud about my weakness, because it's then that His power rests on me. (2 Corinthians 12:9-paraphrased-pretty sure 'flying my freak flag' isn't in any version...yet).  Let us be aware of those who are buckling under the weight of a broken mind, and offer them the One who heals our wounds with His own. 

The Search for Change

I went and stood outside in the sun
Hoping to quench the darkness
Hoping its rays would warm the chill
I stood there awhile
But the darkness was too deep
The chill was too cold
I stood in the sun unchanged

I went and stood outside in the wind
Hoping to rid myself of the gnawing guilt
Hoping its gale would blow away my failings
I stood there awhile
But the guilt was too heavy
My failings too many
I stood in the wind unchanged

I went and stood outside in the rain
Hoping to drowned  the shame
Hoping the downpour would wash away who I am
I stood there awhile
But the torrent wasn't enough to loosen the grip
Shame had attached itself too tightly
I stood in the rain unchanged

I went and stood under a tree on a hill
Hoping it would illuminate the darkness
Hoping it would take away the guilt and shame
I stood there awhile
Grace poured down and saturated the darkness, guilt and shame
Grace that was brighter, stronger and heavier than all I had become
I stood at the cross forever changed.

Thanks for reading.

In that moment

Forever is composed of nows.-Emily Dickinson

Hello there.

I realize that it has been a looooong time since my last blog post.  I apologize to  my faithful followers (all 13 of you).  I'm sure you have been thankful missing these brilliant posts of mine ;)   I'd like to say that I was much too busy climbing mountains, sailing the high seas, or finding a cure for cancer to blog, but truthfully I have been busy adjusting.  Adjusting.  yep.  That's it.  Unimpressed? Yea, me too, but that's the truth.   I won't bore you with the details of how my life has changed this last year.  I will, however, share with you something I've learned.

I work, part time,  as a nurse's aid in a nursing home.  The people I care for are in advanced stage dementia.  Dementia includes Alzheimers as well as several other diseases that cause the brain to  literally stop functioning.  It is a terrible thing to watch a person slowly lose their ability to do a simple task such as washing their face.    You watch and care for them as they go from semi-independent to completely dependent and then you watch and care for them as they die.    I've worked at this place for a little less than a year, and we've had 13 deaths.  It's heartbreaking.

These are men and women you don't see out in society.  These are men and women who in a values clarification class would be thrown off the lifeboat.    These are men and women spending their last days here on earth forgetting all they have ever known.   And yet, these are men and women of great value.  They have purpose.  They are great teachers.    If you look beyond the surface of their weaknesses,  you can see that in them lies a treasure.

When I first began working with this people group, I was very discouraged.  I was wondering how I could possibly make any lasting difference in their lives when I knew that they would probably not even remember my name the next time I came into work.  I thought what a defeating job this is.  What does anything I do with them even matter if they will never remember anything.    I remember praying and asking what the purpose of this could possibly be.  When everything you build with these people is torn down within minutes, what good could I ever be to this people group?

That day, the day I asked that question, I received an answer.  For that moment.  That was the answer.  For that moment.  And what I had to do was change the way I viewed the work I was doing-and life I was living.   Maybe I wasn't building relationships that would be remembered for days or even hours, but I was giving love and care for that moment.   And for those who suffer with dementia, that moment is all they have.    And so when I grab the hand of a sweet elder and look into their eyes as they are  babbling nonsensically and I nod my head and say "Ok, that sounds good" or some other various form of a response,  in that moment that elder knows that they are important enough to be heard, they are seen and worth paying attention to, and they are valuable enough to be loved.  Maybe in 10 minutes they will not remember what happened, but in each moment spent listening, caring, loving I can share the love of Christ.  

Some remember me.  Some remember my face, but not my name.   Some think I'm somebody else and they are so glad to see me when I come, because they've been waiting for me for a long time.   It doesn't matter to me anymore what they remember, or who they think I am,  because when I'm with them we live together only in that moment.  And if in that moment I can help them feel important, valued and loved just for who they are in that moment,  then that counts.

I have been learning, as I continue to work with these sweet elders, that sometimes, well LOTS of times, I try look too far ahead.  I wonder what the lasting impact of each day will be.  I attempt to live for the future.  In that, lots of times I miss what's happening in that moment.  I can't hear the laughter of my children, because I'm too busy worrying about preparing them for their future.  I can't  smell the spring blossoms in the air because I'm too busy thinking about work I need to get to.  I miss opportunities to show my children that I love and value them for who they are right now in this moment, when I'm too focused on preparing them for the future.  I miss the blessing of God's gift of spring smells and songs from the birds when I'm focused on getting on with my day.

I have learned that love given and love received counts, even if it is only remembered in that moment.   I have learned that laughter is indeed good medicine and a good sense of humor is essential when working with this group of people.  I have learned that gifts from God come in the strangest of packages.  The gift of learning to stop and live in this moment has come to me in a package of worn out bodies and wrinkled faces.  It has come to me in laughter and singing from a woman who, while she can't feed herself, she can still teach me that love happens in that moment that I stop to receive it.   When a hand worn by time reaches out to grab mine, I receive that gift.  When the arms of one who has carried nine babies and lived a full life reach out to hug me, I receive that gift.   The gift of the now is continually presented to me every time I walk through those doors.  Now is all they have, and really isn't it also all we have?   All this I have learned from these elders.

AT work this afternoon we had a Mother's Day Tea Party.  Some family members of the elders joined us as we celebrated life with tea and sweets.   Some family members brought pictures of their mothers that were taken years ago, in a different time.  Before time had worn out their bodies and this wretched disease had stolen their minds.  These people I care for were once young and strong. Some were lawyers, judges, nurses, teachers, mothers, fathers.  They were all people of purpose.  While they are no longer young and their bodies no longer strong,  they are still people of purpose.  Because until we take our last breath here on this earth, we all still have purpose.  And our purpose is fulfilled one moment at a time.  

Yes, Emily, forever is composed of nows.  I am thankful that these elders are teaching me just how to live in that moment.

Thanks for reading.