Oh, Snap!

When you pull the lid off a tuna can, it makes a snapping sound as the last corner of the metal lid detaches from the side of the container.  This is how I felt this past weekend.  I am still buzzing with grace and love since the lid of favor continues to overflow in my life. It doesn’t mean only good things happen, but it does mean, I know how to see His goodness in all things!  And yes, I feel like my heart and my soul snapped into a new place of recognizing the depth of my Father’s love. In the core of my being, I understand I am loved, but as God continues to peel the lid off my eyes- “Overwhelmed” is the only word that even comes close to my response.

I was privileged this past weekend to attend a hospital Foundation benefit for women who need cancer screenings and treatment, but can’t afford it. It was entitled, “For the Women We Love.” This function was work related but so much more for me, so I bought an extra ticket for my man. The cost of a ticket, was the cost of a mamogram. The venue was brightly decorated.  There were pink cloth napkins shaped into ribbons and outlandish bras dangled from tall vases in the center of each table.  On the wall were 3 twelve foot posters of women the Foundation had helped. Sitting at my table was one of these ladies - a little weathered, but none the less here!  During the moving evening, the host asked every cancer survivor to stand to their feet.  As I rose from my chair, I looked around the room of 400 and saw perhaps twenty five or so people who fought the fight with me.  My heart was humbled as it exfoliated to expose the depth of the grace I have been afforded.

Some folks standing were not just people in the room that had fought the monster cancer, but they also were people who struggled with life issues to begin with. The crisis of cancer was the added lump of destruction- the icing on the cake, so to speak.  As I heard their stories, my insides churned. The biggest enemy of their souls was gripping fear.  It went from fear, and then encompassed families breaking down, loss of homes and jobs with no insurance. Fear led to despair and many were not at peace with God.  I am thrilled to say, the Foundation stepped in. They treated these women with respect and were able to make a huge difference in their lives by offering free treatment!  One lady was able to save her home because of their intervention.

As emotions fluctuated between my undeserving guilt and walking in kingdom grace, I mentally started taking note at the warm blanket of generosity that the Lord had draped over me and my family.  My story is supernatural and nothing of my own strength.  The first thing God covered me with in the very beginning, was Love.  You see, Love casts out Fear.  I honestly can say I never walked in fear of death or life. I win no matter what! Future and hope, I danced in.  As for my hubbie, he not for sale! There are no words for his daily and continued sacrifice to me.  He constantly thinks of ways to serve me or bless me and not just what he thinks he’d like to give me, but what I really want.  He listens!  We also weren’t hit financially, my income actually increased during treatment, because I had purchased a $30 a month Aflac cancer policy a year before –so like God to go before me! To this day, I don’t know why I bought it.  There was no threat of losing my home – I actually inherited it and remodeled it! I re-tiled the bathroom during chemo!  I was never in physical pain, just frustrated at the length of time for this inconvenience to end, even though I understood how serious it was.  Lastly, the best part of everything has been this incredible close relationship with God like never before.  His voice is so clear at times to me, I am astounded. 

So I’ve been meditating on this whole thing this week. What does one do with all these overpowering feelings?  SNAP?!! Well...Yes!  I have finally snapped!  My tuna lid is off!  I’m just going to swim in God’s pure delight. I won't be able to stop myself, because it will compel me to serve even more.

Shattered Glass

I don’t know why but the shattering sound of broken glass always comes with a dramatic pause of silence. And so it was in our living room the other day.  The distinct sound of breaking glassware! – I leaned my head to look around the corner to see what had happened
I saw my hubby with his mouth hung open and he stared in disbelief.     
           
 His words, frozen until they finally rolled out,

“I must be some kind of idiot!”  “How the heck did I do this?”

On the table, lay several broken plates that had died a violent death

Unfortunately truth be told, I had set up our dinning room table for disaster.  On the table, I had been sorting through the 80-some collector plates to label them and categorize them – The Wildlife Series, The Hummingbird Series, The Great Clipper Ships, etc.  Some of these plates were boxed and others were just stacked. It has been a work in progress.  There are far too many to keep as memories of my father who collected them.  I needed to get rid of most of them.  The sorted plate groups made tall perilous piles

Next to the table with plates is a tall china cabinet. A few days earlier before this incident, Doug and I had discussed that the china cabinet would look better in the corner.  On a whim of a moment, he got behind the loaded table to move the cabinet by himself.  His focus and attention was on the glassware inside the cabinet, unaware of the stack of plates on the table. In the end, the cabinet got moved, but my plates got shattered.

Looking at the aftermath, the warzone only lasted a brief moment before I screamed with delight! “These are beautifully colored pieces!” “Quick, let’s get a box to save them!”  Doug was looked at the mad woman he was married to and shook his head. He was staring at the mess and damage; However, I was seeing a work of art!  “These broken bits and pieces are great for making mosaics!” I rambled on.   I usually have to settle and use tile or marbles when making my mosaics.   There is nothing like a great colorful plate! I have to wait for an event like this to happen, or the “mercier” in me, feels too bad for the plate.

Our little story got me thinking. Maybe God looks at our broken lives as an opportunity for some of His best handiwork? A shattered life may just have the colored hues of humility needed for the mosaic He is creating.  I don’t believe He causes the entire calamity, but He certainly knows how to use opportunities to make us dazzling glimpses of His glory.  Today,  I’m asking to look at life deeper with His eyes,  instead of mine – most of us sit around and call ourselves idiots and beat up ourselves with “Why?” questions when crisis hits.  Or worse, why try gluing something back together that will never be right again, when we need to move on.  This is normal human response, but radically thinking- maybe “shattered” is just fine. What if God in His compassion is holding us when problems arise, but is also dancing around with delight because His creation is taking shape?   When we see as God does, we can relax knowing that something beautiful is around the corner because He always has plan!

HAIR

Standing in front my bathroom mirror, I look at the new me and think to myself, “I am almost put together again”.  When I dress each day and I am out marketing, no one really sees how vulnerable I am because they can’t see my hidden bandages that I still wear from wound care.  In fact truth be told, this is a better body – a flat stomach, I finally have cleavage, and Wow! - a new styling belly button! It’s all good until ,,,the hair.

 It’s the hair that gets me.  I can cover my body, but not the hair.  It’s like some took a black permanent marker and wrote across my face – HAD CANCER. It’s not even about how I look as much as why  I’m patchy bald.  Why did I have to be the 1% that doesn’t get their hair back and be left with this obvious reminder?  This is my big complaint to the Lord.  When this reconstruction process is over and when the 4 years are done of that darn Tamoxifen drug -that have packed the pounds on me – I’m DONE! This whole nightmare will be over and I will move on and forget about all of it!

I rant and rave, because now I can’t without hair. I will never be able to forget about Cancer each time I have to slip on a hat or hope it’s not too windy outside.  I want the memory erased God! I want to Forget!  Even my Onco..doctor tried with different treatments to get my hair follicles going because he knew it too and said, “It’s a reminder.”  Every minute of every day I am wondering if my wig is on crooked, or it feels like a tourniquet on my head.  I can’t let it go, it’s always there. And why?   Oh yeah,.. I had Cancer.

God gently nudged my heart the other day and met with me over my chronic frustration.

  He said, “Lynn, I WANT  to remember and I WANT you to remember too.”  I didn’t even have a chance to argue when He continued, “Your patchy hair is a marker of one of my most intimate times with you.” “I would never trade those dark days for your seemingly peaceful nights.”  “You cried out to me and I held you tightly and rocked your fears to sleep.”  “You pressed in and I loved being with you that close.” “Those were the days I visited each of your family members gave them strength and hope” They became soldiers in prayer and mighty warriors in my Kingdom.  “It was the time I imparted peace to your husband and told him he wouldn’t be alone for I was giving you both a future and a hope” “I made sure to partner with your friends to surround you with love and comfort” “I made you a better friend and them as well.“ 

Tears slid down my cheek as I rubbed my scrappy head.  I said, “You know God, I don’t want to forget either” “this hair is really beautiful isn’t it?”   I have realized that in life not everything just gets patched up and put together again.  Maybe when it’s not, it’s a sign God is moving in ways we can’t see just yet.

  His type of “moving” is invading like swirling smoke into every painful crevice of our being.
……It is  dispelling…it is deeper ….it is stronger and a love story at the highest form. 

 My eyes now still get misty, but for a different reason:

 I no longer see words written with a black marker – the person in the mirror looking at me is a woman of God defined by the Father who loves her and all those most precious to her.

 

The Hallway

Last Friday I found myself in a mammogram  hallway with about six other women.  We all had on the same dull matching medical gowns like no one had identity similar to pitiful cows with the same spots waiting for the slaughter.  One has to love the designer of those garments; the string ties don’t really do much for modesty.  I’ve found that a lot of times the ties are too short, misplaced or even missing.  Once they are tied, you find yourself hunched forward just to tuck all your body parts in. When you sit down the flaps just gape open.  Suddenly, you fill a slight breeze only to notice that you’ve just provided a peep show for an entire audience. 
Scanning the hall , I looked around for someplace in particular that I should sit. This is a practice I have picked up from all my treatment.  Either I can decide that I have to have treatment for things or I am sent!  I choose the latter!  The mammogram waiting chairs sit in front of the dressing rooms.  “Hum… where would God sit with me? “ I mused.   A chair opened up right in the middle of the room next to a 78 year old sad woman.  Being my friendly self and trying to break the nerves of silence in the room, I asked her, “So, how we doing today?”  It was  then her tyrant of despair and despondency spewed into the hallway.

“I would rather be anywhere else than here.”  She began wringing her hands together tightly and went on, “this place worries me.” “In fact, I worry all the time! “ “I worry for myself, because what would become of me if I’m be left behind. “I worry for my husband, if I die,” “Then there are my children – if something happens to them then my world has ended and I haven’t even got to the grandchildren yet.”  “I worry, worry, and worry.”

The slightest bit of hope that was in the hallway was sucked out like someone just used a Shopvac and directly pointed the nozzle upon each and every soul in the corridor.  My spirit started screaming at her words of defeat and at the ungodly power of hopelessness being released into the air and the other women.  I could not contain myself!    I was thinking this is funny, this woman and the others waiting for their mammogram, had no idea I was waiting for something worse – a needle biopsy and aspiration.  I didn’t say a word about any of what I had been through. 

Suddenly I felt her fear, I turned my head to look at this lady square in the eye so I could speak to her spirit.  All ears in the room were perked up and I said softly, “there are some things in life, we just can’t control.  She nodded.  “But here’s the good part - there is Someone much bigger than you or I who IS in control.  Where my hope ends, His begins.  I am not without hope from the start of my days to the end of my days.  I also don’t worry because I take that Someone with me Everywhere I go.  (I could tell that she was Jewish), so I went on,   “even in the Torah before a temple was built, God dwelt in a tent.  Why?  Because His people dwelt in tents.  He lived life right where they were at.  In fact, He is here right now”

Can I say the hallway got much brighter?  She slowly put her hand over mine and said, “I suppose that’s true dear.”  With those last words, my name was called for my treatment.  As I left, I turned back and saw all the women sitting a little taller with a grins on their faces like they were waiting for the best prize ever!   I smiled  as well knowing I just preached to myself cause God and I were going into the next room and everything would be alright.   It was -because of I AM.

The Beauty of the Lord

About two years ago pre-cancer, I had a foretelling dream:

I had boarded a plane for a wonderful trip to an island paradise (so I thought).  As the journey proceeded, it was disturbing because the plane shook, lunged back and foth and dropped attitude with every fluctuating wind change.  I wasn’t really scared but more mad at the weather we were experiencing. - This was a so called pleasure trip!  I stood out of seat and declared, “I need to speak to someone in charge about this!”  The stewardess led me to the front of the plane behind some navy blue curtains to area that looked like a Board Room.  There was a large table with chairs all around it but only one person was sitting in the room.  He looked like an Orthodox Rabbi, but I also picked up that somehow this was a man full of wisdom.  He motioned for me to have a seat.  I instantly felt very comfortable to share my concerns about this misguided tour.  Mostly, I was focused on the incredible amount of rain that was falling.  I went on and on and on about the situation. He just listened.  All of the sudden, His face and eyes pierced my heart and He said with His Yiddish accent,  

“Yes, I hear you.”  “Where I am come from, there is much rain, BUT also much Beauty!”  “It is the Rain that makes it so.”

With the end of His words, I woke up immediately and the dream was over.

Life in general for the following months included chemo, surgery, more chemo and then radiation.  I was aware that God was on “my plane” with me every step of the way and it wasn’t going down.  In fact, that knowledge spared me several times when things were NOT going so well.  I would say to Him, “Really, God- Is this something you want to endure too?   I felt like Moeses did -I’ll go if you’re going, but if not, I’m not willing to go without You.”  Either the circumstance would change or if it was hard – He was there with me and made it tolerable.   The best part of the journey was that the communication between us had such clarity.

In January of this year, I laid my poor bald head to sleep thinking about reconstructive surgery that was around the corner.  I began to dream again and can you believe it?  I was on that plane again! 

 I looked out the windows and it was Still dark and Still pouring rain.  This time, I didn’t ask for help, I just got up and went behind the curtain to speak with my old Friend.  I stated, “I get what you mean about rain, but I Still cannot see the beauty? What is with this trip?”  He took my hand and said, “Remember what I told you about beauty before?”  Instantly, I was returned to an event that had happened about 4 years prior.

The event happened at my work.  It was a Lifeline installation (personal emergency response system) for a home.  I don’t normally do field installations but all my Lifeline technicians were busy that day and it was for a 98 year old lady named Marge who desperately needed help.   She was extremely frail and had been released from rehab just days before.  

 It was at this install, that I saw a little bit more of God Himself that day.  You see, Marge was a painter and had her works of art displayed around her home.  They were so heart provoking and stunning.

  I asked her, “How does painting work for you?” Do you see it in your mind’s eye and then draw it out? Or do you start painting it and then it evolves?”

 Her thin wrinkled hands grabbed mine and her bright blue eyes stared straight into the gut of my soul.  

She gently said, “Sweetheart, one Never paints from here” and pointed to her eyes. “To be an artist, one must always paint from here” She took our joined hands and placed them over my heart. 

I was shook to the core knowing I was having a definite God encounter, but it didn’t stop.  Marge started reciting Psalm 19 1-6 from memory and gazed out her hillside window:

 The heavens declare the glory of God;
the skies proclaim the work of his hands.
 Day after day they pour forth speech;
night after night they reveal knowledge.
 They have no speech, they use no words;
no sound is heard from them.
 Yet their voice goes out into all the earth,
their words to the ends of the world.
In the heavens God has pitched a tent for the sun.
 It is like a bridegroom coming out of his chamber,
like a champion rejoicing to run his course.
 It rises at one end of the heavens
and makes its circuit to the other;
nothing is deprived of its warmth.

I left Marge’s home that day, thinking to myself, “Yeah right, I just installed a security system for this lady?” “She is about the most ‘secure’ person I have ever met!”  Let me very pathetically try to describe at least one of her paintings.   It was a picture of her grandson’s weathered combat boots from Iraq. Tucked inside the tongue of the weathered shoe was a cross necklace.  Beside the shoes was an open bible with the verse underlined “For he shall give his angels charge over thee, to keep thee in all thy ways.” 

This is when I got it!  

When you looked at her paintings, you didn’t just see the painting but you saw its creator -Marge!

 I woke up from the second dream. Here is some of what I’ve learned these past few trying months of recovery.

1.      Beauty shows us WHO the Father is and What He is like! How good! How strong! 

        How creative! and How BIG!

2.      I simply can’t see His Beauty if I am not looking with my heart.  My mind and my own  imagination will confuse the beauty of my journey.

3.       His Beauty goes with His presence.

“Let the beauty of the Lord our God be upon us! and establish the works of our hands for us – yes establish the works of our hands”  Psalm 90:17

Falling Leaves

As we sat around the campfire at Lake San Antonio, John one my friends was reflecting on some of the crazy things he did as a kid.  John had one story in particular that cracked me up but also stuck with me.  It happened when he was a young teen.  John’s folks as good parents told John and his brother they could go play after the front yard leaves were raked up.   Sounds reasonable, but it was Fall and the descending leaves dropped with the rhythm of a wind chime against a gentle breeze.   No matter how hard or fast they worked, John and his brother could not keep up with the steady stream of leaves.   

When John’s parents made a trip to town, John and his brother came up with a brilliant plan.  They climbed and crawled across every branch until every leaf attached to the tree was removed.    Needless to say the job was completed when their parents returned, but they also were in trouble. In their effort to reduce their suffering they placed the tree at risk for dying and diminished the beauty of their home.

 You see, leaves provide the area for the process called photosynthesis that we learned about in high school.   In simpleton terms, the leaves are energized by sunlight and use the carbon dioxide and water to produce a bi-product called oxygen.  The process of photosynthesis on a large scale sustains life on earth.   

What made me think of this story and chuckle?  I would love to pull off all my struggles and just go out and play.  Oh to be finally done with it!  However, I would miss an important life sustaining process.  Photosynthesis not only produces oxygen for others, but also helps feed the tree itself with the sugary sap it makes.  God is the One who is in control of how many leaves fall at a given time and when it is finally Springtime and new leaves bud.  

 Well, as you may have read earlier in my past blogs that at Christmas our family and our friends always play the Holy Spirit game.   One pulls out a “word” from a mixed bag of promises.  This word is for the next year.  Wouldn’t you know it? I pulled out the word “perseverance.”    Here’s the definition:  To persist in anything undertaken and to maintain a purpose in spite of difficulty, obstacles, or discouragement; continue steadfastly.   I am smart enough to know that if He’s given me the word, He’s also given me the strength.   There are seriously times when I wonder how many more leaves could possibly fall and when will I ever be able to just go out and play? 

I think I have learned a small secret.  Maybe instead of waiting to play after the leaves are done dropping, we should play WHILE the leaves are falling.   There is nothing like jumping in a pile of crunchy leaves or throwing them in air and yelling.     I am pleasantly surprised at how wonderful falling leaves are.  I have laughed till I cried these past few weeks at the stupidest things and craziest of places.   Am I comfortable? No.  Am I frustrated at limits? Yes.  But I have learned to play!    I’m kind of slow, but I am getting what the verse “The joy of the Lord has become my strength” means.  It is not just talking about joy when everything is honky dory.  It’s finding that joy in the falling leaves –           It is so empowering!!!

What Teleological Wonder God is!

William Paley introduced a teleological argument for the existence of God.  He likened the universe to a watch, with many ordered parts working in harmony to further some purpose. Just as the complexity, order, and purpose of a watch implies intelligent design, he suggested, so too the complexity, order, and purpose of the universe implies intelligent design.  Modern teleological arguments tend to focus on the “fine-tuning” in the universe, the fact that it is exactly as it needs to be (“fine-tuned”) to support life.
I got a great analogy of planned order and unplanned order yesterday. It reminded me of how God is in control of the big picture and interested in the fine details of even a single human.  As I lay waiting for my surgeon to take me to the operating room, Doug and I sat playing Battle Yahtzee on his Ipad.  We bantered back and forth (since we are not the least bit competitive – yeah -right! Did I mention I won? )  Doug took a look at the floor beside my bed and his eyes flickered worry.  He said, “You are bleeding out” I leaned over and saw a large puddle of blood that had started a river to my curtained neighbor’s bed.  Doug summoned help and all of the sudden we had 6 people working on the new bio-hazard I had created.  Apparently the tubing from the IV had an unseen slice in it which made my IV act as a pump onto the floor.
The funny thing is I have to donate a pint of blood next week for my surgery in subsequent weeks. I will most likely need a transfusion for that surgery.  I laughed and said, “Well, there’s my donation.”  It was there it hit me.  – An unplanned donation of blood such as yesterday has the ability to kill or render someone completely weak.  In sharp contrast,a planned donation of blood has the ability to save lives -the bible says that  “life is in the blood” How true the Word is! 
 As we look at little episode of me yesterday with blood pouring out onto the floor and put it on a macro level it is a picture of an unplanned life, unaware of what is happening around them and ultimately on a course for death. How many times do I let myself walk in this area of nonchalance not giving my all to Him or keeping Him first because I want to do what I want to do?  I’m not talking about the big issues in life; I’m talking about the fine-tuning God is interested in. It still has the power to destroy.
 The picture of a blood donation is totally different- Jesus shed his blood for us because it is part of God’s divine plan for us and it is part of His intelligent design.  He has a plan and that plan is life and life more abundantly.   How often do I stay in tune to His purpose in my life and plan accordingly?   God never misses the details in our lives. It is beyond my thoughts that He is so big to create the universe, yet so intimate to create the smallest particles with life. What an amazing wonderful God that I somehow I am part of His plan!  It’s a teleological wonder! We all have purpose!

 “Thus says the Lord: Stand by the roads and look; and ask for the eternal paths, where the good, old way is; then walk in it, and you will find rest for your souls.”    Jeremiah 6:16a