"Pure gold put in the fire comes out of it proved pure; genuine faith put through this suffering comes out proved genuine. When Jesus wraps this all up, it's your faith, not your gold, that God will have on display as evidence of His victory."
One reason for April soaring past March in the "great months" category, is that I'm helping my good friend Christina host a bible study for the next five weeks all centered around growing our faith and getting fit. This weekly study is just a small part of her long-term mission to create a world-wide community for fit and faithful women through her blog "Her Heart."
Hey people! Guess what? Two more weeks until Springtime! We're almost there! We are THIS close to being able to walk out of our abodes with our jackets unbuttoned or unzipped again. We are THIS close to not having to fumble around in the morning for our cat-shaped earmuffs and snow boots. We are THIS close to reducing that heating bill. Word. In honor of the new season that is upon us, bringing with it a new weather pattern and new greenery and flower beds, I figured I'd share a few new things that I am loving right now. First up, The Increase!
Between last Monday and this past Sunday I baked over 100 cookies, two different varieties. I attended three parties, and hosted one of my own, on a weeknight, at my apartment. I did this while working, doing chores--because I had to clean and re-clean the kitchen about a dozen times (I think I washed the same bowl about five or six within the span of 36 hours)--and trying to get started on my own Christmas shopping.
I think I'm done baking cookies until Christmas Eve. I had to freeze what remained of my peanut butter chocolate chip cookie mix that I used on Sunday because it was calling to me from the fridge. And I've been really bad about working out lately. But the Christmas shopping still isn't complete. So there's that.
I think this year, I'm finally beginning to understand why people are sometimes stressed during the holidays. I don't know how it happened, but I get it. I really do. After baking all those cookies and hosting people for a night I ended up having to take a day off work because I was so exhausted.
But this is how it goes right? Even the best laid plans sometimes unravel like a torn sweater and things end up being rushed/last minute/cluttered. And in an effort to make the holiday season and celebrations perfect, we stretch ourselves too thin, which can sometimes result in attitude that's less than celebratory and more cranky and irritated.
The two things that have really calmed me down and helped me focus on what really truly matters--what Christmas is about--are my YouVersion Bible App and the daily devotions that come with it. It has a whole category for Christmas. So I just want to share with you some of the readings that have really stuck with me and pulled me out of some of those crazy moments that have come about over the past two weeks:
Isn't Christmas awesome? Isn't God awesome? Yeah. I think so. Anyway, you'll be happy to know that I've been using this week of December for some much needed rest, relaxation and rejuvenation. The apartment isn't that clean, and Ben and I have been watching movies on Netflix and playing with the new WiiU console. No parties until Friday. Loving this week.
I can't thank you enough for coming back to this blog time and time again. It really means a lot to me. I hope you liked the interview I did with Julia. If you haven't read it, go check it out!
I haven't done a "Faith Through Hearing" post in a while. But recently I got inspired to share something I read in my daily devotional. I'm finishing up Pastor Rick Warren's 22-day plan "Life's Healing Choices." And I really like it. Here's an excerpt from one of the daily reads:
"Don't waste your pain. If you hide it and hold it back, it doesn't do any good. But if you're honest with God and yourself and with other people, God can use the thing you hate the most in your life, that you're most disappointed by, that you wish had never happened. God says, 'You can't change what happened to you. But I can use it for your benefit and for my purposes. When you're willing to share your brokenness, I can use it to help other people."
That passage really hit a nerve with me.
I've shared a lot with you all on this blog. And sometimes, I think back on my old posts and wonder, "Should I have shared that? Should I have written that? Was it too negative?" I've thought about going back and changing certain things that I've written, especially some of the more negative or sad-sounding posts. Because, I honestly am in a better place now! I'm healthier and happier and I look back and see how this trial of living with kidney disease and having a transplant has transformed me into the person that I really want to become. I always tried to remind myself of Romans 5:3 and Romans 8:38, that good things would come of it, but I didn't always believe it.
I've shared on this blog the many times when I felt broken. When I was broken. When I wished and hoped and prayed that kidney failure had never happened to me. Being in a trial is hard! You do feel hopeless at times, and your faith can be shaken. And I had to constantly remind myself of who God is, and what his promises are.
If you're going through a painful situation right now--and it can be anything; it doesn't have to be kidney disease!--I just want to remind you that God is good. He is good. And just know that once you have been tested you WILL have a testimony. And that testimony will be used to bring others to the one who rescues us, who heals us and loves us.
God is good. You will be OK. And good things will come of this.
"He comes alongside us when we go through hard times, and before you know it, he brings us alongside someone else who is going through hard times so that we can be there for that person just as God was there for us." 2 Corinthians 1:4 MSG
Anyhoo... Here's a picture of me with a wolf-dog. Yes a wolf-dog. I met him at a cafe last Friday and he tried to eat my gelato.
"Let
us give thanks to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ! Because
of His great mercy He gave us new life by raising Jesus Christ from
death. This fills us with a living hope, and so we look forward to
possessing the rich blessings that God keeps for his people. He keeps
them for you in heaven, where they cannot decay or spoil or fade away."
1 Peter 1:3-4
**Inspiration for this blog post came from a Godly woman to whom I promised I would not give up on Jesus if the tomatoes in my pizza garden do not grow.**
Bein' sick is hard, isn't it? I ask this and just assume that you, dear reader, at some point in your life have been sick. And I'm not just talking about my kind of sick . I'm not just talking about the kind of sick that is days, weeks, months of depressing health reports; miniature anthills of prescription drugs; and having to welcome Valium and anesthesia into your blood stream more times than you care to count. I'm also talking about the sick where you wake up with a pounding headache. Or maybe you've vomited twice in one hour. Or hell, maybe you just sneezed three times in a row while you were waiting outside for the bus because, well, springtime. Because let's be real here--we've got a lot of crap to do during the day. Am I right? Do you have a to-do list with a million things on it? Let me guess...you have a "plan," a "blueprint" for how the hours should flow into each other and how you are going to check off each and every single task. You have an idea, a thought, a hope for how whatever you do in the next minute, hour, day or 17 months is going to make your life AWESOME.
And to do that thing or those things, you need to have a body that's working at 100 percent. The sick person's hope: I need the headache to go away so that I can think straight and get that dream job that I've been thinking about for the past 10 years. The sick person's hope: God, I need to breathe! So I don't have to spend anymore money on those stupid stickers you put over your nose that claim to open up your sinus cavities. My hope, once upon a time: I need to get my kidney transplant YESTERDAY so that I can A) finish planning this wedding; B) get married to Ben; C) go to Greece because D) I need to be see things and travel as much as I can before I have kids so that E) I won't feel shackled to my life here in Virginia and wish that I had traveled more and done more stuff like drink wine or go to Vegas before I got fat and birthed three minions...BASICALLY, God, Your gonna give me my sister's kidney in February so that I can make my life AWESOME. I'm just one person. I'm in my 20s. And yes, I'm incredibly selfish at times. But that was my hope for a while. I can see clearly now... And I'm not ashamed to admit that I was pretty f*$#ed up for thinking that way. If you've been on the blog for a while, then you know what happened. I didn't get my sister's kidney. I didn't get it in February. Shoot, I didn't even get to go to Greece right after my wedding! I had to postpone it! Yeah! Sucks, right. And I was destroyed. My entire family was destroyed. I read this here. Sums things up way better than I can:
"If our future is not secured and satisfied by God then we are going to
be excessively anxious. This results either in paralyzing fear or in
self-managed, greedy control. We end up thinking about ourselves, our
future, our problems and our potential, and that keeps us from loving. If we don't have the hope that Christ is for us then we will be engaged in self-preservation and self-enhancement."
--John Piper
As a former chronically sick person who will always be able to understand the "sick person life perspective," being sick is hard. During much of my time living with chronic kidney disease it was so EASY (super easy) to turn my focus away from God and what He's said over and over again that He has for me and will do for me, and turn it inward toward what can I get for myself. What can I do/eat/say/ to heal myself? I'm not saying we shouldn't strive to take care of ourselves when we're chronically ill! Especially since receiving a kidney transplant depends so much on how well you're able to maintain health leading up to the surgery and post-surgery. But...what if we gave in to a hope that's in something better? A hope that's not necessarily in your sister's ability to pass the donor exam; or a hope that's in the doctor who makes the final decision about her approval; or a wedding. LOL Sorry. I have to laugh because weddings are ridiculous things to put your hope in (I've been there. I can say this. So HA). What if we said...
"Hey God, I'm gonna take my pills and cut out my sodium intake and walk up and down the escalator instead of just standing because I really want to stay healthy so that I can get a kidney. But, at the end of the day...I know you'll take care of me. So even if I stood on the Metro escalator that one time coming out of the station, it's gonna be alright. Because you promised it would. And my hope is in that promise."
Just a thought. It's hard being sick. It's hard living with sickness. He never promised life would be easy, but you, person reading this, are better for all the hard times you've endured. Trust me God. You're awesome.
The doubts started with a middle name. And a question, or more like a quiz, testing my knowledge of my nephew (on my husband’s side) for whom I would be his Godmother.
Before the pop quiz, I was probably what most people would describe as a little too enthused about being a Godparent, especially nowadays where more and more people in the country are moving away from bestowing such a title. But over the past year, alongside with me battling kidney failure which was testing my own relationship with God and others, I felt like I might have a lot to give if I was to become someone’s Godparent. I’ve had trials. I’ve had tribulations. I know things. I know bedtime stories. I have...some money. But inquiries into my Godparent qualifications were clearly further down the list on the “do you know your Godson pop quiz.” And The first essay question posed to me by my father-in-law. What is my future Godson Ryker’s middle name?
Of course I knew the middle name, I said. Ummm, it’s…um…it’s…”
No matter how many times I ummed I couldn’t think of it. How did this become my first test as a Godmother? Who uses middle names anyways? I never use my middle name. I don’t even remember some of my family members’ middle names. Middle names are where women’s maiden names go to die. Middle names are those names that outgoing seniors prefer not to have read aloud when they walk across the stage at their high school graduation.
I know his first name. And his last name. What is the big deal, I thought?
Question two: Did you prepare a speech, my father-in-law asked. Again, my response started with Um.
I went home that night thinking about all the things I didn’t know: his middle name, a potential speech requirement, how to turn a pumpkin into a carriage and make Cinderella’s dreams come true. Lying in bed, staring at the ceiling I could feel little thought-seedlings taking root and sprouting little buds, each one opening up and releasing the very pungent aroma of “You’re not good enough” and the fragrance sequel of “They’re going to regret asking you to be the Godmother”
I flung my body to its other side, facing Ben’s back, and asked him if he thought I’d be a terrible Godmother. He muttered something that sounded like a yes and then went back to sleep.
In the days that followed, I Googled as much as possible about Godparents and what I was supposed to do. I even hashed out a few strategies I could use on my journey to induction into the Godmother Hall of fame. The first of which being to buy ten kiddie shirts from Baby Gap on the 9th of every month, to commemorate the monthiversary of his baptism. The second: Stuff a build-a-bear once a month, each one with different occupations to inspire my little Godson to be a fireman bear, a baseball bear, and astronaut bear...or even just a bear if that’s what he chooses to do for his future occupation. Every kid wants to be an animal at some point.
I also planned to go to Costco once a month and buy one bulk-sized bag of candy and wrap it in a box and ship it to my Godson so that he knows how much I love him. This will eventually lead into a lesson on how to avoid crying while getting your cavities filled in hell...also known as the dentist’s office. Yes, these were all good strategies I thought. I was so proud of myself. There’s no way this baby was going to have an absent Godmother. This baby will know how much I love him because he’ll have a closet full of clothes to outgrow in the next month., and enough build a bears to form a seven-nation army of stuffed animals, and enough candy to guarantee he’ll never have to go to bed without dessert. Yes. I will buy his love. Because that’s always worked.
And then I started feeling depressed again because the truth is that I am one financially challenged Godmother who should probably be applying the cost of that Costco-sized bag of candy to my college loans.
I was back to where I started, throwing myself a pity party for being a terrible Godmother before my duties have officially begun.
While at brunch one day with some friends, I told them what I’d been struggling with. I’d been working myself into a panic over whether I would be a good Godmom. I wondered allowed if this is how REAL parents feel: like they’re not going to measure up. Do they worry that that their kids are going end up making mistakes like getting suspended from junior high or skipping school to drink before the football game? Do they worry that their kids will end up blaming their actions or inactions for their relationship issues, or financial issues or emotional issues? In my situation, I worry that because of some inaction or action on my part, this baby will grow up with some warped perception of God, the Bible, church-folk, possibly because I still fall short in my relationship with God...because I still haven’t memorized those six Bible verses that I said I would memorize, because I still haven’t joined a serving team at church after saying I was going to do it 10 months ago. And because sometimes I still say that grace over dinner that I learned with I was four (God is great, God is good. Let us thank him for our food)
“I was reading somewhere,” my friend Ann recalled, “that the best thing that you could ever do for your child, is pray for them.”
Could that really be it, I wondered?
The week leading up to my Godson’s baptism, I prepared my G-son’s little gifts and purchased tissue paper and bags. No card though because I couldn’t find one worthy of NOT throwing in the trash. During one free night I had, I decided to do some journaling, and jot down some thoughts. Unexpectedly, I started to write what was beginning to look like a list of wishes and hopes for my Godson. A prayer even. A prayer that Ryker grows into a man who knows God and knows Him well, and will choose to have a close and personal with Him someday. I prayed that once he learns to walk, while it’ll start out as a crawl, and then a little staggering through the living room, and eventually a run down the sidewalk near his house, that God will walk with him ordering his steps. Boys will be boys, and Ryker is no exception. I hope that even when he’s in the midst of “being a boy” and getting dirty and skinning his knee, and dating that girl, and doing that keg stand if he so chooses too, that he will remember that he is a child of a God that loves unconditionally, and forgives, even when Ryker feels he’s not worthy of it.
I also asked God to help me give Ryker good advice when he asks for it, and keep my mouth shut when he doesn’t. More than anything I ask that God help me to lead Ryker to Him during every challenge, victory, upset, and happiness in life.
The day of the baptism arrived. And Ben, my sister, and I arrived super early, half an hour early. This is not us. We’re usually half an hour late. While waiting for everyone else to show up we explored the inside of the sanctuary, stopping at the “stations” depicting different scenes from Jesus’s crucifixion. And of course no baptism is complete without a sisterly rendition of “The Blood Will Never Lose It’s Power” and “Oh Happy Day” in a cold empty church.
Eventually the crowd arrived--grandparents, parents, aunts, uncles, and my Godson, all dressed in white, ready to have water poured on his head. I held him until the ceremony began and PRAISE THE LORD he did not cry. First Godmother mission accomplished. Pat on the back.
Then the baptism ceremony began, and a book was read aloud about a mom who was crazy in love with her baby boy, which eventually ended up telling the story about a mom who has some serious boundary issues. Just kidding but not really. It was a sweet book...up until the point where the mom entered her grown son’s house through his bedroom window to rock him to sleep (he can’t be married, clearly).
After the reading it was time for action to begin. Ryker and I walked up to the front of the church, where a stone basin with water sat. I was prepared for my second Godmother duty of the day….to hand the child off to the priest so that he could pour the water on his head. That was the plan right? I’d memorized the middle name. I even thought about a few lines for a speech. I bought gifts. I prayed. I held the baby. My role for the day was just about over. Oh, except for the part where the priest asked me to lean the baby over the basin. This was part of the plan that I hadn’t Googled or prepared for. And I definitely didn’t pray about it.
As I started to lean Ryker over the basin, several scary visions flashed before my eyes. An image of Ryker’s head hitting the concrete basin appeared. Then I saw myself unintentionally giving Ryker a full water baptism. It was then that I made my first “Godmommy” decision to delegate my first real responsibility to the Godfather. And he dunked the baby and I was thankful. I didn’t want to be the one to blame for giving Ryker a concussion as soon as he received the Holy Spirit.
I looked on as the water hit his little scalp and he wiggled. I felt a bit sad that I couldn’t do this one thing that I was expected to do as a Godmother on the day of his baptism...along with remembering names, and buying candy and giving advice. But I felt like I was doing what I was supposed to do in that moment. I thanked God for that moment. And I sent up a prayer asking God to show me how to be a good Godmother to Ryker, how to be a good role model for him, and how to pray for him. And how to play with him and love him and teach him about God, and how incredibly awesome and wonderful and GOOD God is.
I also prayed that Ryker would not remember how I bobbled him over a sink filled with cold November water before he could even swim. Amen.
"Now listen to me, you that say, 'Today or tomorrow we will travel to a certain city, where we will stay a year and go into business and make a lot of money.' You don't even know what your life tomorrow will be! You are like a puff of smoke, which appears for a moment and then disappears. What you should say is this: 'If the Lord is willing, we will live and do this or that.'"
James 4:13-15 (GNT)
When I was a teenager, as a way to cope with my diagnosis with kidney disease and bring some stability to my world, I became a chronic planner. To this day, I get made fun of by my sisters because of all the pieces of computer paper, journal paper, and sticky notes with scratched out To-Do lists I'd leave around. They'd be complete with timelines to the second and an estimated amount of time that it would take me to complete an action. I was obsessed, I was sick, and I didn't know how else to cope. Actual hours would pass in a day where I'd sit in my room, journal, write to-do lists, and cry.
I eventually grew out of it. I'm still very much a natural planner. I wouldn't be defined as "spontaneous" by an meaning of the word. Have I relaxed over the years? Yes. I'll usually plan things up until a certain point, and then (in the words of one of Ben's and my favorite songs) let Jesus take the wheel. And sometimes that wheel leads us to having a really awesome unexpected experience.
Life is very different for me now. Not that Ben and I never planned anything before, but now that we're married we have so much fun just talking about the future. And we talk about these things as if being married means they are automatically going to happen. It's almost as if when we were engaged or just dating, we weren't sure if these things were really going to happen, because there was always the possibility of an unexpected break-up. But now that we're married, we've started to think more about things we plan actually coming to pass.
When I discuss "plans" with other people, I'm always incredibly excited. Dreaming and imagining is one of my favorite pastimes, as is planning stuff. But then it's only a matter of time before I start to have a panic attack, and anxiety and frustration creeps into my psyche. When you've gone through any experience with chronic illness, you know that even the best laid plans can fail. You've lived through it. You've seen dreams that you hoped, believed, and just knew would happen, shatter right before your eyes on the rough, gravelly concrete known as reality. You think about what it felt like to have that happen, how broken-hearted you were. You wonder, what's the point. When you have a disease with no cure, you feel like you're constantly in a state of limbo, waiting for the other shoe to drop...or organ to fail. Why even plan or dream of anything in the future? We can't predict what path our lives take. Only God knows. And God knows me so well.
This week of marriage, just as Ben and I passed the one month mark, was spent discussing our money, and what we want to do with it going forward. Like most young married couples, there's talk of houses and traveling and emergency funds. Unlike many married couples our age, there's talk of medical bills and health insurance and what if IT happens again. As excited as I was to have a joint budget and the same ideas on how we manage it, I was also nervous and frustrated with how we'd deal with another major surgery like this. I'd been studying this devotional on my Bible app called "Battlefield of the Mind" written by Joyce Meyer. On one of the days she wrote about a man who was big on saying D.V. after talking about everything he hoped to do for the next day, week, month, year, or even life. D.V. is an abbreviation for "Deo volente," which in Latin means "God willing." The man described his D.V. theory as "having great ideas" about things he wanted to do or see, but D.V. was a reminder to him that he just wanted his ideas to in line with what God had planned for his life.
I so want to subscribe to this D.V. mindset. Because it's been a struggle for me to be able to dream freely or even plan what I'm going to eat for dinner without thinking, "Well, that could happen, if my kidney doesn't fail." What I know for sure is that God says He knows the plans that He has for my life, "plans to bring you prosperity and not disaster, plans to bring about the future you hope for." So there is no need to feel like any idea I dream up will end in calamity. And what I hope to remember, as I dream and plan with Ben and as we talk about our lives together: even if something we really want falls through, we can still rejoice. Nothing that we want for ourselves is ever better than what God wants for us. And sometimes, what we want and what God want are the same thing.
I really wanted my sister to donate her kidney to me. We had both planned on it. We both wanted it to happen in February! As you know, it didn't happen that way. But you know what: what God had planned for me and my dad, and the way it happened, and the timing of it all, I wouldn't go back and change one single thing.
"My heavenly Father, please help me live today. Whether I actually say the words D.V. or not, remind me that Your will is more important than anything in my life. Help me not to allow Satan to get me thinking so much about tomorrow that I fail to live today in a way that pleases You. I ask this in Jesus' name. Amen."
"My Father's glory is shown by your bearing much fruit; and in this way you become my disciples."
John 15:8 (GNT)
I can't always predict when I'm going to write a "Faith Through Hearing" post. But regular readers of this blog know that I haven't done one in a while, and that's because nothing really spoke to me over the past few weeks. Every morning I wake up, and read the Bible. I don't make things too complicated--I just click on the YouVersion Bible app on my phone and read the verse of the day. Easy. This morning's scripture actually turned out to be the answer to a question I asked God right before my kidney transplant. God, how will your glory be revealed in all this....stuff? How will it show itself in the midst of all this blood and guts and IV cords and needles and...you get the point. How will people see You in this sucky situation?
Three weeks later, I open my Bible app and read John 15:8 and I have my answer! I love how God works like that. I had pretty much forgotten about my initial question. The effects of heavy anesthesia no doubt. But when I read the scripture I had a mild case of deja vu and I was taken back to the night before the surgery, when I lay awake staring at the ceiling searching for God-- scanning the white wall for his face, listening for his voice, hoping to reach a conclusion. I don't know if I even prayed that night. I think I just watched and waited, and eventually I was asleep and the next sound I heard was my alarm clock. That was my calm before the storm of anxiety arrived in the pre-op room.
Every day, lately, I've been thanking God for my new kidney and my dad, and asking him to use me, and use my experience somehow. I know God's grace is what saved me on that surgery table (when I had no blood! Thank ya, Lord!), and God's grace is what allowed me to narrowly avoid having to do dialysis (Thank GOD). Grace is my dad getting approved to be a kidney donor at 50-plus years old in like a month. I'm not sure I deserved ANY of those gifts. Actually, I know I didn't deserve any of that.
In John, Jesus tells the disciples that God's glory (aka his awesomeness) is shown to others when those joined in a relationship with Him begin "bearing much fruit." The last part took me back to this awesome Bible study I did with this great group of women at my church, and for three months we focused on the fruits of the spirit: defined in Galatians as love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. It was one of my favorite studies because seriously, those are ALL good things. It is my hope that from being a sick person, and now a "not so sick person" under the condition that I have this transplanted kidney, that I can become a little more loving, patient, kind, good, faithful, gentle, joyful, and peaceful, and learn to check myself before I wreck myself.
I feel like it's not enough to just be healed. People have to know why. And our trials have to mean something.
"If you only look at us you might well miss the brightness. We carry this precious Message around in the unadorned clay pots of our ordinary lives. That's to prevent anyone from confusing God's incomparable power with us."
By the time this is read by most, I'll be asleep on a hospital table, while surgeons do what has taken more than 50 years to perfect. May 3 is the last day that the kidneys that were provided to me at birth, perform their last few functions, and curl up and die. May 3 is also the first day of my second chance at living.
In the days leading up to the surgery, my nervousness played second fiddle to excitement. Two years ago, when I was told that my kidneys, which had been declining in functionfor the past ten years, would eventually fail I rejected the idea that I would need a transplant. I protested. I kicked, and screamed, and cried. I was angry at myself, my family, my fiance...God. Fast forward to May 3, and the thing I want most is to have this transplant. The thing I want most is to not be on the last leg of my life. I want to feel what it's like to be 15 years old again, because that was the last time my kidneys worked perfectly.
After everything is said and done, and I regain energy, stamina, health...I don't want to ever forget this time. I want to have this past year burned into my brain and imprinted on my heart. I want to think about this period of my life everyday. I want to photograph my scar. I want to stare at it. I want to flaunt it. I don't want to wake up one morning and forget what it has been like to cry, to wish I was dead, to wish I was alive, to wake up feeling awful, to go to sleep feeling awful, to be in pain, to feel alone. I don't want to forget what it was like to miss out on things, to take it easy, to quit drinking, to watch what I eat. I don't want to forget what it was like to have to call for help, to have to rely on Ben, to have to depend on God every second of every day. To count on God to perform miracles. I don't want to forget what it was like to watch other people, healthy people, and feel happy, sad, or jealous. I don't want to forget was it was like to want to give up, but then decide to push forward just one more day.I don't want to forget what if feels like to know you can't live without your kidneys. I don't want to forget all the people who have done so much for me. I don't want to forget what God has done for me. I don't want to forget that this has been the worst and best year of my life.
I want to remember this time so that there will never be a doubt in my mind that I am stronger than I think I am. That even when I feel most alone, I can count on more people than I could have imagined to be in my corner. That Ben and I can conquer anything, together. That hope is enough to keep two crippled kidneys chugging along for a whole year, functioning at less than 10 percent. That nothing is impossible for God. That He is good, all the time.
I don't want to take anything for granted. I want to be thankful for every single thing. Good and bad, because at the end of the day, it doesn't go to waste. It's all absorbed and becomes part of who we are.
"We continue to shout our praise even when we're hemmed in with troubles, because we know how troubles can develop passionate patience in us, and how that patience in turn forges the tempered steel of virtue, keeping us alert for whatever God will do next. In alert expectancy such as this, we're never left feeling shortchanged. Quite the contrary--we can't round up enough containers to hold everything God generously pours into our lives through the Holy Spirit."
Last week at Bible study, we had a great discussion about Sarah (or in some versions Sarai). For people unfamiliar with the Bible, Sarah was the wife of Abraham, the father of the Jewish people. Her case was quite special. God repeatedly promised Abraham that he would be the father of generations; that his offspring would outnumber the stars. Sounds good, doesn't it? One problem: Sarah was barren. She entered her old age without children. So much for being the "father of generations," huh? Just when Sarah and Abraham had pretty much given up, God tells Sarah that she will in fact conceive. And sure enough, when Abraham is about 100 years old, Sarah gives birth to their son, Issac.
I've always loved that story. During Wednesday Bible study, we talked about God's promise to Abraham, having faith, how it's very difficult to trust that God will take care of you and carry out what He has promised to you, even when all the evidence on Earth proves otherwise. And we also talked about what a privilege it is to in our hard times to just be able to let go, and let God do what he's best at-- making the impossible possible.
I can relate my current situation with Sarah's story. Sarah waited FOREVER for that child God had promised to her. And it looks like I might be in for my own long journey to kidney transplantation. Sarah was probably the first woman to have those feelings of doubt and worry, waiting for something, not knowing if it will ever, evercome. I definitely know what that's like. But there is hope in Sarah's story, and so many others' throughout the Bible. The birth of Issac teaches us that we shouldn't spend so much time worrying or doubting what God can do in our lives. Her story teaches us that he hasn't abandoned us that He will always come through for us in any situation to give us what we need.
As part of the study we had to read a few verses and tell which one we could really relate to. The one I picked was Philippians 4:19:
And my God will meet all your needs according to the riches of his glory in Christ Jesus.
This was one of the verses I read after receiving the news about my sister, and her inability to donate. I was so angry and frustrated, partly with God, for not giving me what I needed when I wanted it. But this verse reminded me that in this life, everything works according to God's plan, not mine. And I kid you not, after reading this verse, God gave me something that is probably so much better than any one else's kidney. He gave me peace. And just like that I was filled with this overwhelming belief that everything is going to be OK. I'll get my kidney, just like Sarah got her baby, when the time is right.
Consequently, faith comes from hearing the message, and the message is heard through the word about Christ. ~ Romans 10:17 (NIV)
Wow, Friday's post was a "Debbie Downer," wasn't it? Well, it was a downer kind of day. Writing that post was pretty therapeutic for me, but I needed something more to pull me out of my death slump. I'm not the type of person who can automatically turn my emotions off when I'm feeling upset. I've had plenty of people command me tojust "Smile!" when it looks like I'm not having a good day. As if that will help! Really? Smile?! I'm sorry but that's annoying, and it's not helpful. Living with a chronic illness, I've developed my own coping mechanism. It's called "Pity Party. Pray. Press On." I allow myself to sulk and cry and scream for 24 hours. Then I pray. So Thursday night, after getting the call, I prayed. I asked God for something, anything, to let me know it was going to be OK. My faith was small. I searched around in my heart trying to pull at whatever strands of hope remained and there were barely any. I had just enough faith to beg God to help me, to give me peace again, to take away the fear, to help me KNOW that he will make a way. Then I fell asleep.
The next morning, my eyes opened slowly. I was exhausted again. I couldn't get out of bed, I thought. I didn't want to. I decided to check the Bible App on my phone. This will be unbelievable, but here is what the App said.
Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged, for the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go.
~~ Joshua 1:9
After reading that verse, I was overcome with a flood of emotions. I was shocked, in disbelief that I was really getting an answer to my prayer. I was upset with myself because I almost gave up. I stared at the ceiling. My heart started to beat fast, I felt tears rising to the surface. This time it wasn't an hour of painful sobbing. I shed just a few tears because I was so happy I didn't know how else to express it. I was thankful. I turned to look at the cat, who had been sleeping right next to me. "Burton, God is here. He is here with us!" I said. The cat squinted almost as if to say, "Really? You woke me up to tell me something I already knew?" I jumped out of bed and squeezed the cat until he wiggled out of my arms. "We are going to work today Burton! Everything is going to be OK!"
For the rest of the day, I was encouraged. The lab report from Thursday was bad. My kidney function is down to 7 percent, and because the kidneys aren't filtering as much anymore, I'm a walking, talking tub of toxins and waste. There's no date for my surgery and it sounds like I'm probably going to have to go on dialysis. But I have hope. I'm hoping for something. I don't know what it is. I don't know when it will get here. But when it does arrive, I will be ready, and it will be awesome.
To the readers of this blog, how ever many or how few there may be, if you're going through something right now, I'm want you to know that I understand. It sucks. It's not fair. You just want it to end, but you're not sure when it will. But open your eyes: God is with you. He is here, and He will always be. He is working on your behalf. He is orchestrating something so amazing and beautiful for you that when it is finally revealed you will not be able to believe it, because it will be that magnificent. He loves you. He will see you through. This is His promise, forever.
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