Just between the two of us

My anonymous comments have been increasing again of late, all of them with criticism to offer regarding my choices to continue my education and have a large family at the same time. Please read my remarks on this subject and other difficult subjects from 2009, and know that no anonymous comments left without contact information or a name at the end will be posted to my blog.

http://turquoisegates.blogspot.com/2009/08/how-to-respond.html

May I point out a great passage in Matthew 18, which deals with the brother who sins against you? It tells exactly how to approach another Christian if you feel their ways are in error, and leaves no room for unsigned anonymous comments. I read each of the comments submitted, and many cut to the core. My purpose in writing this blog is to be an example of the realities of Christian faith, the daily working out of my faith, the daily small steps in sanctification, the trials, missteps, and sins that make me a real person, wife, mother, sister, student - a real person in real need of God's saving grace - not the Sainted Cancer Survivor some imagine. Please choose your words wisely, with prayer and kindness and grace. I take them deeply to heart, and wish there were a way I could interact with you, Anonymous Reader, so that I could explain myself and perhaps tell you how deeply your words hurt.

If your brother sins against you, go and show him his fault, just between the two of you. If he listens to you, you have won your brother over. But if he will not listen, take one or two others along, so that ‘every matter may be established by the testimony of two or three witnesses.’ If he refuses to listen to them, tell it to the church; and if he refuses to listen even to the church, treat him as you would a pagan or a tax collector. (Matthew 18:15-17)

When dreams creep in

Yours, O Lord, is the greatness and the power
and the glory and the majesty and the splendor,
for everything in heaven and earth is yours.
Yours, O LORD, is the kingdom;
you are exalted as head over all.
~ I Chronicles 29:11 ~

Alaska was the long-awaited dream, a travel nursing assignment in Seattle but a brief career bridge to the vast unknown. Aaron grew his hair out for a year before going. Put on the mountain man exterior, brown curls, overgrown beard, purchase after purchase of wool clothing. I remember snowboarding with him the very first time we did something together outside of work: he wore thick green wool army pants, hunting boots, red suspenders, a blue plaid wool shirt, and a dark wool watch cap with rolled brim. He looked for all the world as though he had descended on Hennepin County from the backwoods somewhere...well, very much north of Minneapolis!

I presented what was supposed to be a short detour in the plans to move - probably forever - to the wilds of our furthest state. We laid grand plans to move together shortly after our wedding. Eight weeks later, we were faced with an unexpected blip: baby on the way, and the consequent decision that we should stay closer to home until we got a handle on this parenthood thing.

I finally realized sometime this spring that he was probably waiting until we could afford for both of us to go there. He had turned down a few offers of a short trip from his dad, who frequently works there, Aaron's hallowed ground. Once I told him he should go without me this first time, plans were in motion quickly. Four days, a lodge on the Kenai peninsula, and some halibut fishing on the open sea rounded out the docket.

How do I speak love into the life of a man made for wilderness, who lives in a busy home filled with busy, noisy, and inquisitive offspring? How do I maximize this time we have together, instead of succumbing to the longing and dreaming for a different time or season that may or may not ever come? I struggle with this frequently, more so tonight as I look over the photos of this man I love beaming as he bounces along on the sunny ocean hundreds of miles from the nearest metropolis. I need to figure out how to reach him here, in this time and place. I long to see that same smile light up semi-rural Wisconsin. I don't want to wait for the day when we can finally get to the wilderness together again. I trust God is watering his soul here, too. And pray for ingenuity in serving the lumberjack man God gave me while deep in the trenches of living a busier existence.

The fruit of righteousness will be peace; the effect of righteousness will be quietness and confidence forever. ~ Isaiah 32:17

I think I'll go up to Alaska, I think I'll be on that train tonight
Heard that there's work there, heard that there's six months of daylight
Heard that the train stops in Seattle, where you can get your feet back on the ground
I think I'll go up to Alaska where the heat of the summer's comin' down

Woke up this mornin' with some heavy troubles on my brain
Gotta hold your head up when every one in town knows your name
But I've got some money in my back pocket from some steady job that I been holdin' down
I think I'll go up to Alaska where the heat of the summer's comin' down

I've got a suitcase made of alligator skin
Hope that it makes it through whatever situation I get in
Boots made of leather, my coat's for the weather, and you won't find me hangin' 'round
I think I'll go up to Alaska where the heat of the summer's comin' down
I think I'll go up to Alaska where the heat of the summer's comin' down
~ Alaska, Kate McLeod

What to say to the suffering

"If one member suffers, all suffer together; if one member is honored, all rejoice together. You are the body of Christ and individually now members of it. And God has appointed in the church ...gifts of healing, helping..."
~ I Corinthians 12:26-28 (exc. ESV)

I have been blessed to encounter many people going through worse trials than I have ever seen in my own life. As I accompanied these families for a short way on their path, I learned a lot about how to deal - and how not to deal - with suffering, pain, uncertainty, and death. One strikingly universal trait was how these families avoided communities - church, social groups, even shopping malls and grocery stores - like the plague. I was always puzzled by this, as I assumed one would turn to those very networks of support in a time like that. Obviously, my assumption was wrong - but why?

I got a little taste of this when I was going through each difficult stage of my thyroid cancer, especially those stages that involved uncertainty. Any group setting was difficult: how do you respond to people when they say they are praying for you? When they comment on your spiritual strength? It is not polite to argue with them or disagree (i.e. "I'm not as strong as you think!"), nor do I want to minimize what I'm going through, or ask them to pray for something more important just because I am self-conscious about being on the receiving end of their prayers(the starving masses in Africa, perhaps?). It is a very uncomfortable place to be in, I discovered.

Church, in particular, has never been the easiest place for me to be. Wounded beyond words by a church in my teen years, I turned my back on church (and even on God, to a certain extent) for years. I had to work through those issues when I started contemplating regular attendance of a church again as a young adult. I was helped immensely by another of Yancey's books, Church: Why Bother?, which gave a logical and Biblical argument in favor of church attendance. One of the points that struck me then, and is being brought home to me in new ways as I navigate this health crisis, is that church is not necessarily just a place to find comfort and joy! Once again, I may have fallen victim to another of the world's lies - where in the Bible does it say that Christians are supposed to rest on their laurels, singing joyful songs and receiving pats on the back for their wonderful accomplishment of recognizing truth?? Is the community of saints supposed to be one major worship fest in which we feel no pain, have no interpersonal difficulties and never disagree with our Pastors?? Oops - I guess I may have mistakenly thought that church was supposed to be a little slice of heaven here on earth! Quite the contrary, God says that, " As iron sharpens iron, so one man sharpens another." (Proverbs 27:17) And what about the numerous Epistles in the New Testament that deal with church difficulties - Romans, the Corinthians, Galatians, Colossians, Ephesians, the Thessalonians, the Phillipians? Do you suppose the church has somehow outgrown difficulties since it is over 2,000 years old now? I would tend to think that the 2nd Law of Thermodynamics applies to churches as well..."the total entropy of a given system tends to increase over time" unless significant energy is put into the system to prevent entropic change.

So what is the role of the church for any given believer? For those who are suffering, in particular? What am I supposed to get out of church, why is it important in Christian living? "And let us consider how to stir up one another to love and good works, not neglecting to meet together, as is the habit of some, but encouraging one another, and all the more as you see the Day drawing near." (Hebrews 10:24-25) For me, going through a trial at this time of my life, this passage means that I need to allow myself to be "stirred up to love and good works", I need to go to church whether it is difficult or easy, and I need to allow myself to be encouraged!

What about for the rest of the church? What are we to do when we aren't in times of suffering ourselves, but rather in a time of encouraging others who are suffering? Since I have had the privilege of walking beside so many people undergoing the loss of a loved one, or serious physical illness themselves, I have a little list to share that might be of help as we frame our words when reaching out to those who are suffering. My list isn't exhaustive, and obviously doesn't apply to all situations, but these are just a few things I learned as a nurse dealing with suffering families and dying children. These thoughts have been steadily reinforced as I navigate my own suffering, answering myriad questions from people I hardly know, or was faced with the quandary of whether to run, head down, when a dear friend threatened to hug me and make me lose my cool in front of a whole bunch of concerned strangers.

1. Avoid platitudes like the plague. It is difficult to hear "everything will be fine", "I'm sure God will take care of you" when you aren't fine, and you don't feel very taken care of! Saying this just introduces more doubt to the suffering person or family, or, at the very least, is difficult to respond to.
2. Sometimes, less is more. A hug and a simple statement like, "I've been praying for you", "I love you", or even, "I'm so sorry this is happening in your life right now" is a lot better than a flood of words that don't have much substance. If you don't know what to say, that's ok! Just don't say anything, in that case!
3. It's o.k. to ask questions. Even if it seem like a difficult subject! If you sense the person is uncomfortable, too rushed, or doesn't want to give details, ask if you can be added to a phone tree, e-mail list, or other form of update system. If the person doesn't have a way to update, maybe you can start something!
4. Physical touch speaks louder than words. If you know the person well, and touch is appropriate, a hand on theirs or an arm around their shoulder may minister them in ways your words never could. Be prepared, though, for you might feel stiffening when you're trying to hug them! This usually means, "Please don't make me cry right now, in front of all these people!"
   
5. Avoid identifying with their pain. Unless you're sure your situation was very similar, it may not be best to say things like, "I know what you're feeling", or "I've been there". Even the same medical diagnosis can entail drastically different lived experiences for different people, so identifying too closely with them might be insulting. Instead, say something like, "I wish I could take some of your pain for you today" or "I can't know what your feeling, but [blank] helped me so much when I had [blank] experience last year". This allows you to express your feelings, or even offer helpful suggestions, without insulting them by trying to tell them how they feel when you really can't know that.
   
6. Offer to help. The best offers are those that help with the everyday tasks that the sick or suffering person might be avoiding - for physical or emotional reasons. Can you offer to fold and put away clothes, weed the garden, take the kids swimming, bring a meal, mow the lawn, field phone calls for an afternoon? The best offers for help are also accompanied by a "no visiting" rule, in many cases - be prepared that the person might take you up on your offer, only to disappear for a much-needed nap or some other quiet, solitary activity. Also be prepared that accepting help might cause more stress rather than relieve it! Be open to suggestions from the person you're trying to help - sometimes just asking, "What can I do to help you on Wednesday?" is more welcome than a specific offer.
   
7. Just because they open up doesn't obligate you to speak. Sometimes a suffering person has a melt-down on your shoulder. What then?? Just because they opened up to you doesn't mean you have to offer some words of wisdom. On the contrary, it may be most helpful to just squeeze them and let them have their cry. This happened to me a lot as a nurse, and it really is true that you don't have to say anything to be a comfort to a needy person.

"And so were the churches established in the faith, and increased in number daily." Acts 16:5

Learning from each other

As I watched Caleb playing with this little boy at t-ball practice the other day, I was reminded of the strong human bend to emulate. The church is an important part of God's design because of this: we copy what we see in front of us. If we lack mentors who share our faith, and role models who practice it, how are we to keep from drifting away in our own actions, thoughts, and prayer life?

I have been thinking about this as I contemplate joining a cancer survivor's support group. I miss the support - the opportunity to follow along in someone's footsteps on this difficult road. I'm going to search for a book, at least, that is specific to cancer. See if I can find one. I wonder about starting a Christian cancer support group? I'm beginning to think that might be a good idea.

Behold, how good and how pleasant it is for brethren to dwell together in unity! (Psalm 133:1)

Not forsaking the assembling of ourselves together, as the manner of some is; but exhorting one another: and so much the more, as ye see the day approaching." (Hebrews 10:25)

Here's an afternoon treat that brightened my mood on this stormy afternoon:

Brushing past

These musings have been rumbling in an unspoken corner of my mind for weeks, ever since I took these photos in my backyard after a February blizzard. How like the fingers of a woman, these branches. Buds of maroon fertility sit like painted nails on the fingertips of these branches, heralding the coming of spring, the warming of the earth and running of the sap for maple syrup. Hands outstretched, this little sapling offers me her gift, crystalline collection of heavy snow. Frigid offering. I snap that photo, and brush past in a hurry to the next one. Turning back, I notice her empty fingers. Offering spent, gift brushed aside. A moment of callous oblivion from my shoulder, and she holds that hand outstretched, barren.


This image has stayed with me. In conversation last night, I probed too deep in a friend's confusion. Oblivious, self-centered, wanting to win an argument or at least expose uncertainty. Brushing past without paying attention. Friendship can shrivel so quickly, relationship falter, love evaporate.

When I see hands full, outstretched to me, I pray I notice. I pray I pause. How then to fulfill that Proverb, as iron sharpens iron, so one man sharpens another (27:17)? How to sharpen each other without scarring each other, to be authentic, and truth-filled, yet not harsh and uncompromising? To put one of Jesus' last edicts into action, Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another. By this all men will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another. (John 13:34-35) I want to be motivated by love, expressing love.

When I go, let me not be the woman that brushes past the tree and never sees the gift. Let me be remembered as a woman who loved.

First tracks

Aaron and I made a habit of tallying first tracks from the earliest days of our friendship. Those early days were cold, dark ones. Huddled together, reporting the events of a child's day in terms of intake and output, medication boluses, infection, test results, statistics. A specter in the bed beside us, silent and shivering with the activity of machinery as, one after another, body functions were replaced with mechanized equivalent. We ran together to the snap of the air outdoors: on snowboards, we flew down hills filled with the cacophony of suburban youth. In his hometown, we sat on frosty picnic tables shooting handguns at straw bails. First tracks came when we arrived at the snowboard hill before the first crowds of schoolbus children; walking down a lake trail where no one dared go because the plow hadn't been through yet; climbing a hillside to see the view. Most memorable were the tracks we left on a sand dune, erased almost before they were completed. We were on our way to say goodbye to one of our patients and a dear family. Pioneers together in a forest of taboo...coworkers falling in love...nurses going to a funeral...white Midwesterners climbing a sand dune in the dark on a desolate Indian reservation.

First tracks through the snow of a state park, pulling a sled full of camping gear. Pioneers still, remembering how to be intrepid after a long hibernation in our world of child-raising and home-building. We tamped down the snow around the campsite, shoveled a bank to shelter our tent, stamped out a path to the pit toilet. Many tracks later, a campfire hissed and chortled alive from damp wood and a soggy firering. We regaled the tales of London's prospectors in Alaska, hailing those first flames as salvation from the cold.

He is a still man. A soul of peace, hands steady to their work, focused, intent, unwavering. Silent at times...sometimes maddeningly so to a woman of words.

What he celebrates with action, putting feet in place of words, may go unnoticed if I don't still my soul to his rhythm. The embers fly by in red streaks, carried up on a black night wind, and he stands like a rock behind them. Gazing. Being together, in this dark and silent woods, surrounded only by our own whispers and our own footfalls. A night to remember that they are no more twain, but one flesh. What therefore God hath joined together, let not man put asunder. (Matt. 19:6)

Thirty years of molding and shaping. I am still a pioneer, still a revolutionary, still counter-cultural. Snow is a friend, and my husband my stallwart co-conqueror in a land of giant foes.

It is good to remember.

Tears

For whatever reason, Aaron and I had a long, random discussion of torture methods and which would be most effective at squeezing information from us, should we ever have sensitive information that was of interest to someone and be then captured by said someone. (?? Yes, I know - very random - and, incidentally, exactly how we knew we were right for each other. We are random on the same wavelength.) Aaron decided that, for him, it is a toss-up between two methods (which shall remain unnamed, just in case he is someday captured by someone!). My own mind returned to this conversation as I listened to constant wails of discontent, ill children this morning. For any mother, the ultimate torture is listening to children - or worse, babies! - crying, especially if they are her own.

Amelia's days of illness are now followed by the long days of recuperation and re-training that come hand and hand. "No, Amelia, you may not sleep alone upstairs with Mama every night from now on!" "No, Amelia, you may not sob for what you desire - please ask in a nice voice!" "No, Amelia, you may not poop and pee in your pants!" "No, Amelia, you may not wear your pajamas all day long." On the heels of such instruction comes the tender yearning of my mother heart, strings of which are played upon by the wan cheeks and hollow, dark eyes brought on by a week of sickness. Here is that difficulty, to find the sweet spot between tender love and stern love, that love that desires to bring this beautiful child to her full potential, not only physically, but also emotionally and spiritually.

This verse has always been a difficult one for me to absorb, although I've heard it since early in my childhood: chasten thy son while there is yet hope, and let not thy soul spare for his crying. (Proverbs 19:18) Today I am praying for patience as I reflect tender love, mercy, and grace from the face of my Father onto the upturned, tear-streaked cheeks of my children. The day to chasten will come. Today is a day for comfort.

And like a boat out on the ocean
I'm rocking you to sleep
The water's dark and deep
Inside this ancient heart
You'll always be a part of me
~ Lullaby (Goodnight, My Angel), Billy Joel

Lament & proclaim

A phone conversation with a friend reminded me today that some separations are worse than those in my life of late. Imagine being ideologically opposed to your dearest loved one, with hardly a hope for reconciliation and an eternal future of being torn apart. While I was in physical isolation from my family, we shared so much using other forms of communication. The cry of my heart was tempered, the long low, plaintive wail of a lone violin crying out in solo for a moment before being rejoined by the symphony. But those who are eternally destined for a different home than those they love...their soul doesn't cry or weep, but is rent in two, the relentless crescendo of a hurricane beating in on a lonely, evacuated shore of endless sorrow. My grief was a season and theirs a lifetime.

Imagine yourself standing in a boat on the Bering Sea. Your comrade is struggling in the surf, tossed overboard by a rogue wave of ice and sleet. At your feet is rope that has been blackened by the salt water, the ragged fray of the coil in your hand biting into your grip. You don't know where the rope ends, and whether or not it is actually anchored to anything on board. Would you hesitate to throw the lifeline to your friend, unsure whether it will hold his weight, or whether it will be long enough to reach him? Can you imagine his consternation if he were to watch you, contemplating all the unknowns about the rope you hold, while he sinks for the second and third time, struggling against the tide, his heavy gear inexorably pulling him under?

Christ is the rope. Many of my friends and loved ones are the drowning man. When I proclaim Christ to them, I do it completely and wholeheartedly out of love. Because I am on the ship forever, and will be willing, until I die, to toss the rope of salvation to anyone drowning who will reach their hand out to grasp it. During this season, it is foremost on my mind daily. Our culture has sold the idea that Christmas is a season of benign good cheer, and incessantly batters us with images of handshakes, group hugs, smiles, and comfort food...or worse, materialistic shopping, giving and gleeful shrieks over presents...neglecting the undeniable Christian Christmas imagery. Christmas is, after all, about Christ - and while modern Christianity has bought into the idea of inclusion, touting Christian love as mutually exclusive to Christian witness, Christianity is also a divisive and exclusive faith. I hear this in Christ's own words, He who is not with me is against me, and he who does not gather with me, scatters. (Luke 11:23)

Speak Christ in love to those who listen...and perhaps those who will not...this Christmas. Pray, earnestly, for the salvation of lost souls. Let your heart swell with the hurricane of loss and love felt by those closest to them, let the waves of pain beat the shore as you beg for grace and a beseeching call to be spoken in their own heart this Christmas season.

Nails, spear shall pierce Him through,
The cross be borne for me, for you.
Hail, hail the Word made flesh,
The Babe, the Son of Mary.

This, this is Christ the King,
Whom shepherds guard and Angels sing;
Haste, haste, to bring Him laud,
The Babe, the Son of Mary.
~ What Child is This

Flipping the pyramid

For this very reason, make every effort to add to your faith goodness; and to goodness, knowledge; and to knowledge, self-control; and to self-control, perseverance; and to perseverance, godliness; and to godliness, brotherly kindness; and to brotherly kindness, love. ~ II Peter 1:5-7

Years ago, I made a list of "Mama's Rules" and posted it on my bathroom wall as a reminder of how I need to act throughout my busy...and often frustrating...days as a young mother. I have been working on the area of self-control in my life for about six years now, and it has been a very slow, uphill battle. When I read the above list, it seems like I started with faith; I added goodness; then knowledge; and finally, got stuck on the self-control tier. I was re-reading my list of "Rules" today, and thought about how far God has taken me in that battle over the past few months.

Then it struck me - we start everything out backwards in our culture! I assume that I am full of love because I "feel" love all the time - for my husband, my kids, my family, strangers, sick people, you name it, I "love" them! Yet how often do I show them brotherly kindness? How often godliness? How often do I persevere through difficulty in relationships? Is it really love I have after all, if these other traits are so lacking in my actions, words, and thoughts? The world would say yes, love is a feeling. Everything else follows love. But this verse indicates otherwise...love is the end result of a long string of choices, not a passive experience on which your own choices have little consequence.

I do feel as though God has recently completed a step in my transformation through Christ. Self-control is coming easier day by day, and now it is that perseverance step that I need to master. I go along for weeks without incident, and then quit persevering and oops! there I am wallowing in self-indulgence again...emotional, physical, mental, spiritual. I have new motivation today after my "light bulb moment". My end goal is not some lofty spiritual aim, nor mere pie-in-the-sky human goodness. My aim is love, true, deep love as evidenced by acts of brotherly kindness, godly character, perseverance in the face of adversity, self-control, knowledge, goodness and faith. Whether you're humanist or Christian - aiming for this list of traits will guarantee that your life and the lives of those around you are better, richer, more enjoyable.