Trading My Sorrows

I'm home today. Came home from work early yesterday. The pain of arthritis has been overwhelming, along with fatigue. I was able to get in the same day to see my rheumatologist and my pain level was so high my blood pressure was 169/100. I think he's a good doctor, but conservative. He admitted the pain medication was a low dose. So he doubled it and added a steroid, which I have mixed feelings about, but I'm a desperate woman. Steroids can interfere with sleep, trigger mania, and cause weight gain. I'm already overweight. I asked for and got a cortisone shot for good measure. Pain is still there, but he said with the steroid I should notice a difference by Monday.

I'm off work the rest of the week. I slept better last night. The sleep apnea is getting under control. God is good. I trust him for the strength and grace to work through the pain and to help me keep my job. I have two more years before I can retire. The job is high stress and it's wearing me down. But I have hope things will work out. Paul said he had learned to live the life of faith under all circumstances. Good times and not so good times. Times of plenty and times of lean. At least I have yet to be stoned to death.

Paul is a role model for living victoriously in all manner of suffering, and his life continues to inspire and place things in perspective. King David's mood swings and times of depression give me the grace to know God is not disappointed in me. David would always come around to praising God after his tears. Paul, though, seemed to keep his emotions in check, though there are references to his being sorrowful and angry. Still, mostly he persevered in holding onto joy in spite of suffering. It's a lesson for me and no doubt for other Christians suffering trials.

There was a popular praise song about 20 years ago that said, "I'm trading my sorrows, I'm trading my shame. I'm laying them down for the joy of the Lord. I'm trading my sickness, I'm trading my pain. I'm laying them down for the joy of the Lord."  "Though sorrow may last for the night, joy comes with the morning." My fingers hurt as I type this. I no longer play guitar, which was never in my plans for my life. Guitar playing was always going to be. But life doesn't always go according to our plans and dreams. But the constancy of the Lord is ever there. His love, mercy, and grace don't depend on us, it's all about Jesus and God's character.

I don't know what tomorrow will bring. I don't know if my pain will be better by Monday. I don't know if my sleep will continue to improve. I don't know my work future. But I know my Redeemer. He will guide, provide, and comfort. He will defend and bless. He goes before me and shields me from behind. Whom shall I fear? Truly.

New Hope

I should maybe preface this with a statement to the effect that it’s been awhile since my last post. And it has been. My last entry may have been read as a downer, but it wasn’t. During one hospital outpatient program that I was placed in after a nine-day inpatient stay, we covered a lot of territory about the suffering that accompanies mental illness. Coping skills were taught, but the most amazing lesson came toward the end of my three weeks. It was called “Radical Acceptance.” Deconstructed down to its fundamental meaning, radical acceptance is accepting you have a mental illness, that it causes suffering and sometimes, nothing can be done to change that fact.

There was a collective gasp among the participants, and some wasted no time in saying it wasn’t fair. Others like me, sat in silence. Radical acceptance was a radical concept. My mind flipped to the story of Job and understood he had traveled an arduous journey through unbearable suffering, and God’s response was this: accept it. I thought of Jesus and his radical acceptance of the crucifixion. God had decreed there was no other option for the redemption of humanity. Radical. Acceptance.

My last blog entry was, in fact, radical acceptance of chronic sleep deprivation. I was no longer going to fight God. I was no longer going to pray about it. It is what it is. In that place, something unexpected occurred. My new psychiatrist insisted that I see a sleep specialist. I had undergone a sleep study some twenty-five or so years ago and they found nothing to keep me from sleeping. But she felt it needed to be looked at again. I’ll skip all the steps and go straight to the point. The study concluded I had sleep apnea and my oxygen level had actually dropped into the ’80s for a bit. Alarm bells went off in the heads of the doctors. When I was given that diagnosis, I broke down and cried. It meant something besides multiple sleeping pills could be done. They were failing me anyway. Maybe there was a reason to hope.

In four days I am getting a CPAP machine. I had resisted writing about this because what if it really doesn’t keep me asleep through the night? I’m off work on FMLA again because things were moving. When I become so sleep deprived stationary things start moving, then I’m in real trouble. I shouldn’t be driving, and my job’s professional expectations are not being met. I can’t do my job. I was told to go home and do not return until I am under control again. So, I am at least not facing the public bleary-eyed and sluggish of mind.

I still have radical acceptance. God is in charge and whatever he wills, I accept. But I’d be a liar if I didn’t admit to having renewed hope that something will happen. That I might get even six hours of uninterrupted sleep. I am also humbly asking for prayers. I will write again when I have tried out this medical marvel. People who have used them said it was life-changing. Well, I’m all about life-changing and morphing into Christlikeness.

I will be still and know he is God.

Sometimes, the Answer is No

So, is it a sin? I stopped praying for sleep sometime back. I think others are still praying for me, but I don’t ask anymore. It’s been years of pleas, groveling, demanding, begging, and “if it’s your will” prayers. I have just stopped. For as many years as I have sent prayers up for sleep, I’ve concluded his answer is simply, no. And there is no argument against God’s no. He said, “I open doors that cannot be shut, and shut doors that cannot be opened.” That’s pretty much the end of any effort to sway God.

That hasn’t stopped me from seeking human medical intervention. Maybe there is still another drug to try, or maybe a condition that can be corrected. I’m going to be monitored for three nights to see if I have sleep apnea. I’m not hopeful. Not anymore. I was told if it’s not sleep apnea, then I would see a chronic insomnia specialist. Definitely no hope there. I’ll go, but unless the person has a magic elixir, I’ve tried it all. I will hold the line on animal sacrifice and voodoo, but anything else I’ll try at least once.

So, the question. Is it a sin to stop asking for something and no longer hope for it when you're seeking something from God? I feel some would answer yes. They’d quote Jesus’ words to pray and not stop praying in his parable about the unjust judge and the poor woman, because she prevailed. But some would say no and quote Paul’s prayers to have a thorn in his flesh removed. God told him no. No. God said his grace would be sufficient for him. So, two sides to one question.

But it doesn’t stop there. I can sense judgment from some readers. It would be easy to twist the words of Jesus and use them to condemn me for a number of things: lack of faith, not believing God enough, giving up. But those who would lean that direction assume God always says yes, when clearly Paul was told no. Those are the ones who must walk in the shoes of the sufferer before rushing to judgment. The answer lies in grace. Always grace. Maybe I’m totally off base, but any response that does not extend grace is the wrong response. Always.

So, may I be extended grace in no longer asking God for sleep. I believe he’s answered me. No, Susan. My grace is sufficient for you. Perhaps his no is no I won’t do a miracle, but maybe medical intervention will still come through. But I must somehow live with this condition and its consequences. I may not be able to work sometimes. I may be too tired to think straight sometimes. I may not be able to drive sometimes and miss out on somethings because of utter fatigue. I was hospitalized once from an extended lack of any sleep to the point of hallucinating. Life expectancy is shortened from lack of sufficient sleep. Weight gain, early onset dementia, other health issues as well. I’ll need all the grace God will give to live like this.

And in case you’re wondering, I still love God. I still trust him. I still need him in every imaginable way. I hope in his promise of salvation. I will never fully understand until the day I meet with him face to face. There are believers who suffer much greater than I do, so I will never stop loving and hoping in God for my final deliverance from this body of corruptible flesh. And holding onto the grace he gives to live in a fallen world, weak in the flesh and tired.

The Language of Love

I have slept approximately six to seven hours over the past three days. I went to work Monday after two hours of sleep and had a miserable day. I made it through the day, but told my boss I was taking a sick day Tuesday, which was wise. I slept no better. My sleep has become a fugitive. I had a scheduled psychiatric appointment Tuesday and I went. She seemed alarmed at me. I gradually told her how sleep has been diminishing and she strongly urged I take a week or two FMLA. I was too tired to argue and set it up with my HR department.

I've been a troubled sleeper for years and have taken just about every drug under the sun. Every suggested herbal, change of bedtime behaviors. and exercise has failed. I was sleeping about five hours a night the past couple months on higher sleep medication, but no longer. About four years ago I went ten days without any sleep and ended up in the hospital, hallucinating and begging help. I was finally put back on an antipsychotic that made me sleep, but also gained 60 pounds. I stopped taking it, but now I am sleepless and fat. To be honest, if they suggest going back on it, I will balloon up to 300 pounds, but if I sleep, I'll live with it.

I can't think straight right now and this is probably messy, but at times of sheer hopelessness and helplessness, I turn to my paternal grandmother's old Episcopal Book of Common Prayer from the 1940s. I was given it when she passed away and I treasure it. I know some Christians think the archaic language of her generation is dead and useless, but it resonates within me. She and many other believers whispered the prayers of this small book and found great comfort therein. I have several bookmarked and pray them when I am empty and have no power to create my own.

Let me share one. "Turn Thou us, O good Lord, and so shall we be turned. Be favorable, O Lord, Be favorable to Thy people, Who turn to Thee in weeping, fasting, and praying. For Thou art a merciful God, Full of compassion. Long-suffering, and of great pity. Thou sparest when we deserve punishment, And in Thy wrath thinkest upon mercy. Spare Thy people, good Lord, spare them, And let not Thine heritage be brought to confusion. Hear us, O Lord, for Thy mercy is great, And after the multitude of Thy mercies look upon us; Through the merits and mediation of Thy blessed Son, Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen."

Turn Thou us, O good Lord, and so shall we be turned. What a most marvelous prayer request. I am weak these days, and my bipolar disorder could flare from lack of sleep. I'm truly bereft of hope for sustainable sleep from the specialist I meet with next week. But, even with an empty and troubled mind, I have words lovingly crafted to use long before I was born. A spiritual heritage handed down to me. I will cling to the cross which led to such petitions. And wait upon the Lord.

It's All Good

Sometimes I engage in wishful thinking. Everybody does at one time or another. It can be simple and harmless, such as I wish I had a bowl of ice cream. Actually, right now I do, but I am trying hard not to eat dairy. Other wishful thinking is not so innocuous. Wishing harm on others, wishing to be rich without any effort on your part, wishing to have an easy life, which often comes at the expense of others and can lead to selfish slothfulness.

But lately, I really have been wishing for an easier life. I still have daily struggles due to inadequate sleep. I weigh far too much, yet I am not exercising as I truly need to. I have far too much stress from work that's affecting me physically and emotionally, yet I have dragged my feet about therapy (though I did finally make an appointment and have seen a therapist for one session so far). I wish I did not have bipolar disorder and so much anxiety. I want to be able to retire now, but I'm only 64. I have to work for at least two more years. There are debts to be paid off first. And I have to have medical insurance.

Yet, I am making changes. I found a new psychiatrist who really listens and is addressing the anxiety which my prior one did not. I have made an appointment with a sleep specialist to see if I can have a sleep study done. I saw the therapist and have another appointment in a week. I am going to go on a daily walk after work, weather permitting, and I may try Tai chi.

I am trying to cope with arthritic pain. Giving up playing guitar after 54 years wasn't an easy decision. And I actually listed my beautiful guitar for sale on Craigslist, but thought better of it and pulled the ad. I asked my son if it had any sentimental value to him, and it does, so he will keep it in the family. I cried when he said that. My son was immersed in music growing up. Music has been such a huge part of my life. It was a form of prayer.  So, I have a lap dulcimer and I am going to teach myself how to play it. It will be easier on my joints. Joni Mitchell played lap dulcimer on many of her recordings, so I have set the bar high.

Where is God in all this? He has hemmed me in. Christ before me, Christ behind me. Christ above me, Christ beneath me and Christ at my side. I cannot flee from his presence. Wherever I go, he is there. He is as near as the very air I breathe. Life is always evolving. I don't know what lies in the future other than glory at the end. But the journey to glory is filled with detours and sometimes dangers. The only map I have is scripture and the still small voice of God.

All this to say I have reached radical acceptance. By that I mean I accept I may never be free of psychiatry and medications. Arthritis could progress and worsen. Maybe I'll never know the bliss of a full night's sleep. I have spent many years arguing, pleading, bargaining, and at times angry with my back turned to God because of various trials. But radical acceptance leads me to kneel before my maker and bless him for making me and learning to be content, whatever my lot. All told, God has blessed me beyond measure. I admit I have wasted years complaining to him, all for naught. I may not have much, but for what I have I will be grateful.

There is an old gospel song that goes, "God has smiled on me,  he has set me free. God has smiled on me, he's been good to me." It's true. God looks at me and smiles. His face shines upon me. More than ever, I want to dare to look at him and smile back. It's all good. It really is. May you also see God's smile and taste his goodness. Because it really is all good.

Life's Adversities

I'm sitting in a hospital room, by my husband's side. His alarming symptoms yesterday prompted a call for an ambulance and a visit to the ER.

For the record, he's going to be okay. A bad case of vertigo from an inner ear issue. Completely fixable. But he's been miserable and I know exactly what he's going through because I had the same thing happen to me about thirty years ago. I feel bad for him.

Being here takes me back to the bedside visits to my dad and mom. I can't count the number of hospitalizations my father had. So many things went wrong after his heart attack. But the five years they gave him turned into thirty. He was a fighter.

He didn't sit around until near the end. He and my mom delivered food for Meals on Wheels for twenty-five years. Same with working in a food pantry. My father did his best to help get utilities paid and give groceries for a week to desperate people. He judged no one. He just took people at face value and tried to help.

When my son was little, we'd go once a week to help at the food pantry. My son would put donations on the shelves and help put food sacks together. It was a good lesson for both of us. We didn't have much money, but seeing the needs of others gave us compassion and appreciation for the little we did have.

My father's faith fed people and the spiritual lives of both my parents are my heritage. It's also the heritage my son was left with. We both took their deaths hard. They were so alive and served the Lord to the end. The hole that's been left in our hearts is still there.

My father showed my son what honesty, fairness, strength, love and faith looked like in ways only a grandparent can. And my son reflects it. He was with my father that day he died. It was a hard death and I know my son grieved deeply. But my father accepted his manner of going and was brave.

My husband is just like my father in so many ways. They say women marry men like their fathers. Might be some truth to that. He's taking this health issue as well as can be expected. I want my son to know that. And he will. Even more, I see the same attitudes in my son with his health.  He lives with pain daily and yet goes on with life with zest and drive.

What a fortunate woman I am to have lived a life surrounded by men of integrity, whose strength is shown in love. My father, my husband, and my son. I am blessed beyond measure for I have seen the face of Jesus in each of them.

New Beginnings

Today, the Lord and I had a conversation at church, my first Sunday not playing with the praise team. I cried through the music. Couldn't sing a word. It was painful. I'd glance up at the music stand I had sat at and just cry. Something was being taken away,  and even though I was willing for it to happen, it hurt.

Yet, today something else happened. I answered God's call to take back the mantle of being an active elder in the church. It requires the same commitment I gave to help lead worship. As I answered the required questions about my faith and commitment I felt earnest, yet not overwhelmed. But when the time came for other elders to lay hands on me and pray, I felt a burden lift. By the end of the service I was smiling. There is a weight of responsibility in being an elder  actively serving, but I didn't feel that. I distinctly felt a burden lifted. I was at a fork in the road, and made the decision to walk the path leading in a different direction.

My Pastor's sermon was about new beginnings, the dawning of God's light illuminating a new thing. I felt it was for me. God talking to me as though I was the only one there. Then we had communion, and nothing so moves me as that. I cannot take communion without tears. It's a visible manifestation of God's grace poured out fresh. I get very real with the Lord with communion. Maybe it's my Lutheran roots, but I take communion very seriously. It's not just a symbol, a reenactment. I meet God practically face-to-face in the bread and cup. My soul is laid bare and I can only pray for mercy. It always comes. God has never passed me by. In remembering his death, I experience the depth of his love all over again.

This blog entry is a little disjointed, I think, but a lot happened in the service. I'm being called to a new thing and God will give me all the grace I need to do what he wants. Just as he has down through the past nearly forty years of playing guitar in worship for churches.  I know I can always sit in with the praise team. Another guitar player may show up and that would be awesome, but they'd still welcome me to play on a Sunday. But I know there has been an internal shift. My focus is being redirected and I will embrace what God has planned and be open. And part of that is the desire to write even more.

So, as I just toss these thoughts down on digital paper, I'm looking at the guitar I have played for the past forty plus years and understand my way of serving is changing and arthritic fingers can manage to type easier than play steel strings. God never ceases to amaze me, and he always will.

Count Your Blessings

It's the first day of 2019 and it a dreary, overcast cold blustery day. I woke up in pain as usual and found all we had was decaf coffee. I was counting down to the moment my headache was going to kick in. But something shifted and I drank the decaf while reading about a positive challenge. Set a timer for fifteen minutes and write down all the blessings you can think of from 2018 in that time frame. Sounded like a good writing exercise, but more than that, a perfect way to start 2019. If I received blessings in 2018, chances are really high I will receive them in 2019. Some might be the same, But there is hope for a surprise or two.

So what was my blessings list? I will insert the fact that I m a two finger typist. At 40-60 words a minute, I would have recorded more, for I just opened my mind and kind of went stream of consciousness. I was still typing when the timer went off.

1. My husband 

2. My beautiful son 

3. Clean drinking water anytime I want it. 

4. Family 

5. A job 

6. A house that's paid for.

7. A working car, soon to be paid for 

8. Loving friends 

9. Modern medicine 

10. A church home. 

11. A great pastor 

12. Shoes to keep my feet warm and dry 

13. Decent clothes 

14. Supermarkets with an abundance of all kinds of foods 

15. Bug-free house 

16. My dog, Zed 

17. My cat, Wild Thing 

18. A smartphone 

19. A new laptop 

20. My first published book. 

21. My guitar 

22. Health 

23. Living in a democracy 

24. Jesus. should have been number one. 

25. People who have prayed for me. 

26. Freedom of speech 

27. Being able to help others in accordance with how God has blessed us. 

28. Flowers 

29. Nature's beauty 

30. The Christian heritage my parents left me. 

31. Not having to worry where my next meal is coming from. 

32. Imagination and creativity 

33. No hospitalizations this past year 

34. Having had second chances 

35. The surprise visit from my son on my birthday. It was a BIG blessing. 

That's what came to my mind in fifteen minutes. 2018 had a few bad moments, but gratitude for the past year's blessings outweighs all the down time. What about you? It seems like a good way to begin a new year.