A Giggle from God

Well, this blog began at the beginning of the month, with some pretty lighthearted looks at some topics...but has gotten progressively more somber as time has gone on. I don't like this trend. While I think it is important to discuss things deeply and seriously...I also think it should always be done with a sense of humor. We take ourselves much too seriously.

As for me, I don't think that I take myself so seriously...but rather that my life has become rather serious: rather a fight for existence against the jaws of pain which would love to chew me up and spit me out somewhere along the way. I've been struggling against this happening; clinging to my pursuit for meaning in the face of a grim existence and a long future ahead of me or increasing pain and difficulty......Sometimes life just ISN'T FUNNY.

But you know.
Life may not be funny...or fun. But God is always good. And he, unlike me, never loses his sense of humor. Sometimes, it's in the very speed with which he comes racing to answer our cry and our requests and our desperate questions...that I can hear his giggle of delight. It's almost audible his thought, "It's about time you came to me with this one...and now that you have, HERE'S YOUR ANSWER....ta-dah!!"

Yesterday was like that.
I had a brutal night. I've used that word to several people now to describe it. Because that is the only word that seems appropriate. I've been engaged in a bloody battle with pain...and this enemy HAS NO MERCY. Last night, I got to the point of despair. (Which is a place I struggle with all my heart not to go these days.....) I began to pray through sobs...while sitting in my room in the dark, on my recliner...being nauseated and crushed by wave after wave of pain. I began to ask God questions that I normally do not need to ask...Areas where normally my faith is strong, suddenly became pits of quick sand where I was sinking up to my neck. I said to God:
"WHY???? why have you destroyed my life...and my very purpose for existing?? You have taken and removed every ability, every competence; every piece of enjoyment; every freedom...Every possible reason that I could have for existing is gone. And now the only thing that remains is my heart beating and this horrific pain. It has swallowed me. And I cannot go on like this anymore! It's not like I am suffering for my faith, and thus winning heavenly reward....it's not like I'm suffering for the benefit of anyone else...NO! I'm just plain old SUFFERING. It's pointless. and cruel. And I can't do it anymore. I need to know Why?? And what of what value is my life? Why do you prolong it? Please God, bring me to be with you...now. Tonight. Because I cannot survive another moment of this."

I questioned his purposes. I questioned his intent for good in my life (My benefit, my hope and my future - see Jeremiah 29:11-13); I questioned his wisdom...I questioned his concern for me. I questioned why I existed as well.

And God, instead of crushing me or disregarding me or being angered at my distress and this stumbling in my faith...chuckled as he revealed to me the answers to each question. And when I entered the kitchen...and saw dishes stacked from counter to ceiling...and dirty counters...etc., I began to cry...Because my pain was so great, I knew it was impossible for me to clean up that mess. And I cried out to God for help. I asked him to please send me someone to help me that day.

And not even ten minutes later, a friend on Facebook said to me, "I'm not doing anything today; do you need me to help you with something?" Well. YEAH, as a matter of fact I DO!!

And let me tell you that this is not something that has maybe ever happened before. NO one has ever come to me with an offer like that one. NOPE. This was God's giggle of good blessing in my life yesterday.

And there were more to come. I had a delightful day. This same friend took me out for coffee and later, out for lunch. And then to Walmart (OK, I DO have to forgive her for that one....) I do not often get out...And if I do it's to go to a doctor's office...Not for anything fun. So this was a great blessing and gift from God. A soft caress on a tear-stained face. A kiss for a confused child.

And later in the afternoon...He answered my questions in regard to my need to understand my function and purpose in life. And more specifically, why suffering is necessary in order for me to fulfill those purposes. And he showed me that, no, I am not cursed by God, but rather that he has blessed me with HEALTH , WEALTH AND WISDOM. Even though, I am sick, poor, and confused. Two friends, spontaneously, prompted by my chuckling Dad in Heaven, spoke to me via the internet (email) and brought these issues to my attention. And neatly spoke with the voice of God directly to my need.

So, even though I may have lost my giggle; My God has not. And it is not a mocking giggle. But a giggle of the loving delight he takes in me...and laughter which springs from his joy in responding immediately to my urgent need.

Deut. 33:26
"Yeshurun, there is no one like God, riding through the heavens to help you, riding on the clouds in his majesty."

Psalm 69:32
The humble will see their God at work and be glad. Let all who seek God's help live in joy.

Heb. 2:18
For since He Himself was tempted in that which He has suffered, He is able to come to the aid of those who are tempted.

Yes, God laughs when we've lost all our sense of humor.

The Regret Monster

For me, there are two horrible feelings. I think they must be the worst feelings in the world to endure. Because I've had an Eating Disorder for many many years, one of my feelings may not be shared by the majority of the people who read this. At least not anything like in the degree that I experience it, and that is the feelings of sickness, disgust and self-hatred I get when I've eaten too much, or something really junky...like four Ring Dings (just for an example...I haven't done this particular feat but it seemed like a good example to give.) And ironically, my response often when this has happened is not to be exceptionally careful about what I eat from then on, to try to balance it out....NO, it's the All or Nothing thinking that kicks in....and because I am now an awful person because of what I've just eaten, I have to go and PROVE it by eating more and sickening myself further. (And no, I've not had a problem with bulimia. My problem was anorexia...but you must understand that a small dish of ice cream to a person suffering with this disease, feels just as bad to them as would eating two containers of ice cream for someone else...and worse.) It is true that the quantities we are talking about here have grown as my recovery has progressed. And now, when I overeat, it really COULD be considered overeating , although probably not anything like what some people would consider even normal.

Last night I did this and I am heartily regretting it this morning. (In fact, have been regretting it all of last night.) And here, actually is an important word and concept: REGRET. Regret has to be the WORST emotion to bear when it is inordinately intense. Have you ever said something and just wanted to EAT your words...and you've agonized over it a million times in your mind and there is NOTHING you can do to undo what you've done?

That leads me to my other terrible feeling. And that is when you've done something that you KNEW was wrong, and you did it anyway. And you are disgusted with yourself ...and sick about it. It was wrong before God...and wrong in your eyes, ...whether or not other people would share that same diagnosis, is irrelevant. To me, to God: it was wrong. And I can't undo it. And all I can do is sit with this regret twisting about in my gut....Then comes the soul-mate of regret: self hatred. That's when the mental dialogue begins: the self castigation; the raking over the coals...and the internal and horrible things we say to ourselves to make ourselves feel even worse.

To me, these are the hardest times to bear: those moments when I'm left alone with monster called Regret.

Tonight (rather last night,...it's now 7:00 AM), I've done things worthy of both of these kinds of regret. I over ate and I did something that I know was wrong. And I'm sitting here with that sickness of soul that follows....And the thought came to me:

"You don't have to feel like this."

Now, it is good to be convicted when we've done something wrong, just for the purpose of letting us know that we've done it....to identify it. However, God never intended us, His children to bear the weight of ongoing guilt. THAT's why he sent Jesus. To take care of that, once and for all. Conviction is God saying to us: "Look, what you just did was wrong. It needs to be taken care of...." GUILT, on the other hand, is a punishment in itself. The pictures some people have of a God who takes delight in crushing them with a heavy hand of guilt is completely wrong. Yes, we are guilty. W e are innately guilty. (I know some people will dispute that, but I can recognize an innate sin nature in me; a self that loves to do what is wrong and doesn't please God....And if you have enough softness of heart to recognize and sense conviction, you will agree with me too.)

God doesn't want us to live with Regret and his soul-mate. He doesn't want the self hating diatribe to begin in our heart. Rather, we wants us to take delight in his gift to us of making right the relationship we've tainted with our sin. He wants us to bring him our dirty rags in confession and he wants to hand us once more the white robe of "righteousness" or rightness with God. Why do we waste so much time before we take it to him? Shame? We think we can hide it from him?? I won't even comment on the ridiculousness of that thought...but I often have it too. Do we need to suffer a bit first?? To feel like somehow WE were contributing to "paying for it"??

Listen: What Jesus did on the cross was perfect. "It is finished" he cried at the end. And it was. Our sin no longer holds any power to keep us in bondage or captivity to regret. Nor does it hold the power to separate us from God that it once did, before the cross. Isn't this an amazing piece of news?? We can take it; dump it, and LEAVE IT THERE, walking away as fresh and clean as if we'd never even considered doing such a thing.

Of course this is presuming we've already initiated a relationship with God...but no, wait, that's not true. It is a possibility for ANYONE. All that's required of us is to recognize that we have sinned; that our sin makes us unacceptable to a holy, perfect God. And then ask him to let us come under the covering of the amnesty that He granted us through the blood of Christ. And then that freedom and release and innocence can be yours also.

And as far as that package of consumed cookies goes? Well, it pales, I guess in comparison. Although gluttony too is a sin...So take it to the cross. And if you have ED like me, ask for a touch of healing from those patterns of thinking as well. He's a big God. And Healing, Pardoning, and Forgiving are his business. So don't try to pay for it yourself, either by self recrimination or by good behavior. Because you can't.

The Wonder of Worship

What is it that is magical about the lights on Christmas trees, candlelight, the song "Silent Night," the first snow fall, ...? I think it is a combination of things. It brings to mind the sense of sacred awe we felt as children when faced with these things for the first time.
It is that sense of privilege that we have when we are allowed to attend our first midnight candle-light service as a child: replete with the excitement of staying up REALLY long past your bedtime; knowing that Christmas is tomorrow and the mystery of what lies under that tree; the beauty of the candles, starlight and snowfall reflecting the Christmas lights that give that image of that "Little Town in Bethlehem" and the beauty of the baby born there, hidden away in that stable. And to your little mind then, the world seems to be just about perfect. The fight you had with your brother, the spanking you got yesterday, and the distress you felt when you heard mom and dad yelling at each other that morning ...all vanish...and you feel a sense of peace, delight, and excitement.
To me, I think some of that awe, peace, and joy is what we will feel as we step over the threshold into heaven...for those of us that are going there. This, this childish awe and wonder, is how God meant us to be ALWAYS....And I think it is how Adam and Eve felt ALL THE TIME...as they explored the beautiful garden of God. As they examined discovery after discovery, their hearts thrilled with the understanding of just how much they were loved. I am feeling some of this wonder now, as Handel's Hallelujah Chorus just came on my iPod. God is on His throne: King of kings and Lord of lords! Hallelujah!

Folks, we were made to worship.

People don't like that idea now, because it means inherently, the admission that something or someone greater than ourselves exists in this world. But honestly, with my hands raised toward heaven, singing with all my might, and tears coming at the beauty of my God...nothing in the world could feel better than that. That is what I was created to do ...

And the awe of the silent wonder that comes when we consider the Christ child coming to this earth...that KING OF KINGS AND LORD OF LORDS, coming to a dirty stable in the helpless wrapping of an infant...growing up to die....for me... That too, is what we were made to know...How very very much we are loved and adored by the Maker of the ends of the earth.

And the wonder of it all will dumbfound us when we finally, in His Kingdom, begin to understand the full impact of that. And the awe I felt as a five or six year old, holding my candle in it's paper holder watching that spark ignite into flame, surrounded by the strains of O Holy Night: that is just a slight inkling of what we'll experience in Heaven when surrounded by a sea, thousands upon thousands of worshipers, as we lift our hearts and hands to worship the King as he enters and sits on his throne.

We were made to worship.

Sushi and Paper Pilgrims

I was just thinking...trying to come up with some Thanksgiving memories. I don't have many memories of packed tables full of relatives and friends...I think there were a few times when my family made the 9 hour car trip from our home in Hackensack NJ to Meadville PA (FAR western PA) to tables of cousins and aunts and uncles: tables of adult grudges and hurt feelings; tables full of my oblivion to that fact...only cognizant of cousins I hadn't seen in a long time...the initial hide-behind-Mom's-skirts shyness which was soon replaced by noisy games of tag and childish excitement. Hungry hand-slapped sneakings of the food that we insisted must be pre-tested /and approved before we would consent to eat it. I cast shy glances at my disabled uncle (who had RA) in his chair in the corner of the room where I was sure he slept and ate as well, having never in all my years, seen him in any other spot but that. His ever present smile belying the twisted and swollen state of his hands and the pain that I can now sympathize with and which I now know he experienced but never showed or discussed.

The scent of my grandma's home made rolls came wafting from the kitchen inviting the begging for and prohibition of advance inspection of her wares. Placing dishes of the same grandmas neon colored bread and butter pickles on the table...and being permitted only small, pieces of her homemade hard candy, all of which tasted like anisette and licorice despite their bright colors, to hold us until the preparations were all complete and we gathered, noisy and wiggling to the table ...jumping in our excitement...and totally disregarding all of the undercurrents of the adult feuds and fractured loyalties.

There were a few Thanksgivings like that...But more frequently, there were the quiet kind, celebrated by my parents, my younger brother and myself. On these days, my parents would go to church, while my brother and I watched the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade on television and carried out our private tradition of making the centerpiece for the table. These consisted of -things like construction paper pilgrims or turkeys with fan-like folded tails which we proudly perched amidst the good china...the china which only came out of its hiding place in the china cabinet once or twice a year.

When my parents arrived back from church, soon delicious smells began to waft from the kitchen...where entrance was firmly denied until my mother got control of the preparations and things were ready to be carried to the table in the dining room...I don't recall much else about those holidays at home..except for the one, when my mom took the turkey from the oven and sat it on the counter for a few minutes to cool so that she could carve it....and while our backs were turned, our cat climbed up and had himself a nice Thanksgiving meal! Yes, we still ate that pre-sampled bird...just not the parts that had been already gnawed!

Now, my Thanksgivings are much different. Much sadder if you ask me...We have a tradition (about 3 years old, this tradition) that is so absurd that whenever I confess it to anyone, it prompts a good belly laugh from the listener. You see, WE (my husband, daughter and myself) go out for a sushi dinner. We are invariably the only customers in the restaurant each year...((I wonder why??)) and then out to a movie following dinner. Why??? Well, since my mom became unable to prepare the feast, and it is difficult for me to do so (in fact, there have been years that I've spent in the hospital for Thanksgiving), we have gravitated toward this absurd practice. As for me, I would SO much rather go to a friend's house to celebrate, it's not like we've never been asked,...but my husband is not terribly social (to be polite) ...and would not consent to this...I miss the noisy familial gatherings. The home cooked meal and the friendly camaraderie that should be part of this day are sadly absent in our quiet celebration. So, for a few years, I've attempted to rescue the day by cooking a Thanksgiving type of meal on the Sunday following the actual holiday. This year I have quite an elaborate menu planned and only am praying for the strength to pull it off. I know I will get no assistance so it will be a painful marathon, but I do it mostly for myself...to assuage the disappointment of the empty holiday that really should be so pregnant with meaning. And I hope that someday, when my daughter celebrates the holiday in whatever manner she should choose, that she will remember my attempts to restore some of the tradition to a holiday rendered bizarre by the preferences of my family. But nonetheless, I try to be grateful for the presence of the three of us at that meal and to enjoy their company during our unconventional celebration and to be thankful for each of them during these times we share together in our unorthodox method of acknowledging the day. And I am always thankful for the years when I am healthy enough to even participate in the celebration of the holiday.

So this week as you gobble your turkey...think of us, in that deserted Japanese restaurant with our plates of sushi....and try not to laugh.

Please note: Silence from me today.

Reason: I'm busy NOT whining.

Am I my Illness?

This question has plagued me recently.

It began with a concern expressed by my father that my blogs seem to be so focused on illness that he was worried that these diseases have consumed me and made me simply another extension of themselves.

This also has been a complaint of my husband...that "Cynthia" no longer exists, but only a walking mass of pain and illness.

My pastor has also worked to alert me to this danger (in subtler ways than my husband, I might add!) He used to tell me when I had the habit of saying "my" asthma....He told me "don't say "my" ...don't OWN it!" And so I've now made a huge effort to break that method of referring to the diseases that attack me...I don't say "my " arthritis, or "my" asthma anymore. I say "THE arthritis, or asthma" but is that merely semantics? It has been a good reminder, true, when I speak of it, not to make it a part of myself...but has it really effectively changed this mindset in me?

And if I am NOT an illness...then.....who am I???

Frankly, I've been an illness for the majority of my life. True, there were some years of respite, when my daughter was young - years when I was just "Cynthia, Bible Study teacher, leader in church...artist...just Cynthia: pilgrim. But then in the year 2000, a random germ lodged in my lungs ands caused pneumonia which caused THE asthma which was to plague my life with numerous hospitalizations and secondary diagnoses....This began the tumble into the pit of illness in which I now find myself floundering and struggling to stay afloat.

And then, four years ago, my mind once more crumpled under the weight of physical distress, according to my psychiatrist, and that 12 year sabbatical I'd taken from mental illness abruptly ended--making me, once again, Cynthia: mentally ill person or patient (as the case may be). And I can tell you very honestly that when your mind is betraying you to that extent...to the extent that you must question and doubt every thought and every perceptual experience, well, it's hard to find an identity apart from that either.

And I have to ask the question....if you are up to your neck in sewage, how is it that you can not stink??

Do you understand my point??
When every move I make is met with pain...When I am hindered at every single motion, every single attempt to do ANYTHING...well, then, it is extremely hard to be able to even think of myself as a Being apart from illness and pain. Believe me, I don't WANT to be an illness...I know some people with chronic illness who are all "woe is me" constantly about it...and I try REALLY REALLY hard not to fall into that pit...and I think generally, I'm successful at that...considering the impact these diseases have made on my life.

It is really hard to "get a life" when the ONLY time you get out of the house is to go to a doctor's office! Seriously, other than to go sometimes to church, those are the ONLY times I get out...(that and an occaional "pharmacy run"....). I don't get to run to bank or the store - I don't see people or have experiences outside of this house, outside of doctors and outside of the limitations of this body.

THAT IS WHAT MY LIFE CONSISTS OF!!

So tell me, who am I and what am I apart from lost hopes and current illness and pain? If you know the answer to that, please email me and let me know what it is, because I SERIOUSLY do not have an answer to that.

..............................
{post script)
I had pushed the "post" button and then I sat staring at the last paragraph...and it did not sit well with me.

Because you know who I am?
I'm Cynthia- priestess of the Living God.
I'm Cynthia- warrior in prayer
I'm Cynthia- Beloved One of the Most High.

And it has become too easy to forget that. Too easy to let those descriptions of me which several years ago were so all-consuming, to slip quietly into the background of a "former life"...but they are NOT things which you "once were" and now "are not"...No, I still own those personal descriptions and job titles. And I need now, when all else is lost to me, to grip them more firmly and own them more completely.

The Beginning of the End of the Beginning

This morning I was thinking "aloud" as I posted on a forum for disabled people on a site that I frequent...I copied some of my remarks there to share with you here and to explore further:

"I had determined yesterday that I would exercise today...but I'm very unsure of that now. My neck and back are letting me have the whatfor...so I'm not sure about moving around right now. This does get very discouraging...that even when I have the right intentions, my body manages to cancel them out. Sometimes I wonder if it really is worth pursuiing the good intentions anymore....Maybe I should just go with whatever is easy and comfortable instead of fighting back and kicking the same old wall over and over. When does the point come when you just allow yourself to rest and go with the flow?

I have a friend in the later stages of severe ankylosing spondilitis - a similar disease to mine, only she has had it longer and is very, very disabled by it. She has blogged recently about how hard she fought in the early years, to maintain independence and physical strength and normalcy, but now, as the disease is really kicking her butt, she is letting go and just resting in whereever it takes her. And I'm afraid she will not be much longer with us, because she really is very sick.

But when is it "okay" to do that? Do you beat your hands bloody on the walls that are ever encroaching, ever closing in on you...until you don't have an ounce of strength left? And why? For what? Why would it not be okay to relax much sooner and let it go where it may? I've already fought hard agaiinst my body and crippling illness for so many years now...I find that I'm more and more tired by the fight...and now, as my life is reduced to this room more and more, I find myself wondering WHY?? Why am I still fighting and trying so hard at something that is obviously a losing battle? Why not just gracefully admit defeat and relax?"

In other words, I am wondering, what makes it so "noble" to resist and fight when disease and limitations come? Why can it not be equally good to gracefully bow out while you are still standing, once you realize that the fight really IS going to be futile in the long run? Why is acceptance so frowned upon and resistance and struggling against the inevitable are looked at as noble and as the right thing to do? Why do we cling so hard to this life which is at best, temporary and painfilled? If we belong to the Lord, we KNOW that something so much better is around the bend. Why can we not say, "my work and my time of being useful here, is done...now I will await the next stage with eagerness?" Is this attitude really not one that we have adopted from the desperate, fearful world around us? They fear death so of course, they will fight it tooth and nail. But for me, it signifies an end to great sufferng....and being welcomed into a kingdom which is spectacular beyond all estimation and fantasy.

I do not mean that I should turn my back on every good and useful thing still left for me here on earth! NO! I should grasp these gifts also with eagerness from the hand of my Beloved Lord....But maybe I should grasp the endings as well as the beginnings? Maybe, when exercising becomes so painful and such an uphill struggle, I should just let it go ....maybe that phase in my life and abilities is over? Maybe I should instead seek what it is God has for me now in THIS stage? I can see real evidence of a shift in my "responsibilties" before God now...He definitely is moving my life in a different direction....Maybe I should seek to explore all the parameters of this new time rather than refusiing to let go of the prior time? Maybe my time of cookiing , cleaning, maintaining a home, being a "MOM and WIFE" -maybe that phase is drawing to a close as those responsiblities are very much out of my reach right now. They require a strenght I no longer have. Maybe now, as God seems to be moving me into the role of encourager and mentor and pray-er...maybe these are the things I need to pursue and focus on -without regret and without apology.

And when a certain thing becomes increasingly difficult, maybe I need to let it go and admit it is no longer in my grasp. The trick and where it gets sticky, is to make others realize that they cannot ask of me or demand of me tasks that belong to the roles that I can no longer fill. I don't think there is anything noble about beating dead horses. Nor is there anything noble about refusing to admit that one simply can't do something.

When I was a little giirl there was a woman in my church who at one time had a lovely operatic voice...
But she was losiing her hearing. And she refused to admit that her solos were no longer bringing pleasure to people but were exercises in endurance for us to listen to. she had lost all sense of pitch. And when the church finally broke this news to her and asked her to please not sing her solos any longer, in fury, she left the church. Now, was there a nobility in her persistance insinging?? Maybe.. Maybe a sad, pathetic kind of one. But I think, it would have been a greater and more grace-ful strength for her to back down and admit that her season as a soloist had past..

And now, I have been told by a surgeon who is respected in the field, that nothing can be done to help reduce my pain or restore my strength and ability to move around to me. My husband is insisting I go to specialist after specialist and seek another opinion. You know what"? I'm sure if I try long enough and hard enough, I will find someone cavalier enough to operate on me. But to what end?? My doctor has explained that such surgery will lead to greater immobility and equal pain. Why should I risk that?? To satisfy my HUSBAND'S inability to recognize a dead horse when he sees one?? No, I say, leave me in peace. do not drag me all over creation in a task that is futile. Let me go.
LET GO!

I can accept that. Why can't they?