Callouses

cal·lous [kal-uhs]
1. made hard; hardened.
2. insensitive; indifferent; unsympathetic: "They have a callous attitude toward the sufferings of others."
3. having a callus; indurated, as parts of the skin exposed to friction.

The hardening of the skin is inevitable: handle the tool long enough, work enough hours with it, and your hand will shape to it, the dense patches of yellow skin forming a glove for that tool, that work.  First, the pain as skin pulls, fluid collects in the little blister there where the rub is, it bursts open and bathes your hand in the white fire of exposed flesh.  You keep swinging, and the burn becomes an ache, and then fades to nothing, and in a few days you pick up the tool and find that your hand likes this shape.  Remembers this shape.  Is made for this shape.

You can stall a good thing, pretty early in the game.  Toss the tool aside when the blister pops.  If you leave the work, walk away in a huff, it is your soul that grows a callous instead, a selfish callous, a callous on the heart that shirks pain for an easier path.  And every time you pick up the tool and set to work again, days later, the pain returns, the fire-brand pain of a tender layer of skin that has never grown into this work.

There are parts of my soul that have done this work before, the work of suffering physically and spiritually at the same time.  I go back to this work and find that there is a callous, that I am prepared, ready, and able for this task.  I am reminded that I carry not only the life of Christ in my soul, but also the death. (II Corinthians 4 again...we have this treasure in jars of clay to show that this all-surpassing power is from God and not from us. We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed. We always carry around in our body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be revealed in our body.)

Let me die quickly to self in this matter, as in all others.  Let me shoulder the work at hand without frustration, lethargy, paralysis of the spirit or the hands as I am called into battle.  Give me strength for this round, God.  I am in the part of the match where I'm almost praying someone knocks me out.  Help me to stay present in this day, this week, this situation, this life.  Help me accept it as a gift from you, God...despite the pain of today and the pain looming large tomorrow.

I am reminded, by the words of an old hymn echoing in my synapses, that you have not forsaken me, and that your grace is shown for it's glorious perfection when I am weak and tired.

Great is Thy faithfulness, O God my Father;

There is no shadow of turning with Thee;

Thou changest not, Thy compassions, they fail not;

As Thou hast been, Thou forever will be.

Great is Thy faithfulness!

Great is Thy faithfulness!

Morning by morning new mercies I see.

All I have needed Thy hand hath provided;

Great is Thy faithfulness, Lord, unto me!

Pardon for sin and a peace that endureth

Thine own dear presence to cheer and to guide;

Strength for today and bright hope for tomorrow,

Blessings all mine, with ten thousand beside!

~ Great is Thy Faithfulness, Thomas Chisholm, 1923 ~

Preservation

I will give you the treasures of darkness, riches stored in secret places, so that you may know that I am the Lord, the God of Israel, who summons you by name. (Isaiah 45:3)

Aaron took this portrait of preservation, so that we will always remember.

The very base of the toilet tank, shattered in a star shape from the force of my head as it hit the top.  The force from top to bottom shattered the tank all the way to it's base.

The razor sharp edge of the porcelain pieces that could have easily cut me and bled the life out of me as I fell through the shards to the floor.

I returned this toilet to dust with one sharp blow from my head.  Aaron described the sound like putting a ball-peen hammer to porcelain, as head hit porcelain and porcelain hit porcelain.  But God preserved me.  He says dust you are and unto dust you shall return and I hold the keys to death and hell. (Genesis 3:19 & Revelation 1:18)  He also says that all the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be (Psalm 139:16).  Every time I have shuddered in fear over the unknown, every time I have descended into the blackness as I passed out, every time I woke in the ER to alarms going off and staff shouting for help and my body shaking as though it would never stop...this verse has comforted me.  From high school and all through to the present.  I do not need to fear the hour of my death is now.  He knows the hour and the time, and it is the perfect hour and time for me, and for His plan.  He will shepherd me when that moment comes, and I will not be alone.

Miraculous that, once again, it was not then.  Although all the circumstances dictated that I should go to heaven that moment my head hit the toilet, or in the frantic hours that followed, it was not the time for me to go.

And He is faithful, beyond preserving my life, to preserve everything else...my brain, my emotions, my talents and abilities, my joys and heartaches, my relationships, my will.

He turns bruising into beauty and, indeed, upholds the broken reed.  (Isaiah 42/Matthew 12)

Though the mountains fall,

Though the earth should shake,

Though the seas should roar with all the heartache

Though our hearts should pound,

Though our throats be dry,

We will lift Your Name on high

You have been a shelter Lord

To every generation, to every generation, Lord

A sanctuary from the storm

To every generation, to every generation, Lord

~ Shelter (to Every Generation), Bill Batstone, 1992 ~

The Golden Ticket

The devil, who has for the most part ignored you up to that point since you weren't a threat, starts to take notice. And so do other people. Believers and unbelievers alike may become your adversaries. Remember what happened to the boy David when he decided to fight Goliath? His brother attacked him angrily. Then Saul, the king, challenged him, "You're just a boy." Then Goliath himself mocked David. In that moment, David had no supporters except the Lord. Get in the battle and see what happens. ~Tim Haring, April 30th devotional for Faithwalkers journal, available in it's entirety here

This has definitely been my experience. At certain points along this difficult road, as I follow God like a blind woman down a path I didn't choose that leads to a destination I am totally unsure of, I have felt overwhelming support and love from my community. At other points, that support has fallen away and I have been forced to wonder, "Am I even on the right road any more? Did I slip up somewhere?" I have to re-examine everything - my motives, the reasons I have faith I am on the right path, the signs God provided along the way, and most of all, my relationship status with God. Cancer, initially, was a huge wake-up call. All my priorities were shaken up like papers in a raffle basket, and, since the dust settled, nothing has ever been the same again. What I knew in my heart has become what I do with my hands: 1. God; 2. Aaron; 3. children; 4. blood family; 5. church family; 6. the lost. The challenge has been to sort through the various activities that fill my days and put them in their correct slot on the priority list. School, for instance, is particularly challenging. I believe it fits somewhere between church family and the lost - my reasons for going to school are to witness to the lost and to build the church family by going on mission as a nursing professor and being a voice of the church in the broader community. Adoption is another challenge - is that up there with children, blood family, church family, or is it an edict from God and something that should take top billing as Aaron and I pursue it together? These are the two activities that have undoubtedly drawn the most "heat" in the battle surrounding my life and my time and my service to Christ. School and adoption are two aspects of my life many people do not understand. Yet they are part of what Christ has called me to do, and I must "enter the battle and see what happens". I cannot, in good faith, table these things because it doesn't make human sense to pursue them. Aaron and I are in agreement, after long, hard examination, that these two things stay in our lives. We have to keep stepping forward on that, even if brothers, kings, and enemies oppose us and question our sanity.

A little book of collected writings on suffering, edited by Nancy Guthrie (who definitely knows her subject), has been a comfort through the latest onslaught. Corrie ten Boom recalls a conversation she had with her father when she was a child:

When I was a little girl, I went to my father and said, "Daddy, I am afraid that I will never be strong enough to be a martyr for Jesus Christ." "Tell me", Father said, "when you take a train trip from Haarlem to Amsterdam, when do I give you the money for the ticket? Three weeks before?" "No, Daddy, you give me the money for the ticket just before we get on the train." "That is right," my father said, "and so it is with God's strength. Our wise Father in heaven knows when you are going to need things too. Today you do not need the strength to be a martyr; but as soon as you are called upon for the honor of facing death for Jesus, He will supply the strength you need - just in time."

God has called me to face cancer, various other health difficulties, a child with special needs, graduate school, homeschooling my children, homemaking for my family, and pursuing adoption - all at the same time. He has given me the money for the ticket. Only He know how much strength I need to survive this - nay, to shine for His glory while doing these tasks. From the outside looking in, to friends and family and strangers who don't have the ticket for this train in their pockets, it seems impossible, improbable, unwise, fool-hardy even. But I have the ticket in my pocket - my Father has given it to me just in time to board the train. Now that I am on the train, jumping off would be the fool-hardy action! God is holding my hand and we are steaming along just fine.

I plan to type up an entire article by D.A. Carson titled "Dying Well". The verses he opens the essay with remind me to number my days and resolutely press on if I am sure of what God has called me to do. The entire passage is Psalm 90:3-4, 9-12, but verse 12 is what gets my attention: So teach us to number our days, that we may get a heart of wisdom. The wisdom and strength God is pouring into me is probably very different from the wisdom and strength He is pouring into you. We have different tasks for which He is preparing us!

Having your faith tested is not all sorrow, misery, tears, torment, agony! Charles Spurgeon states, "It is as great a mercy to have your salvation proved to you under trial as it is to have it sustained in you by the consolations of the Spirit of God." The old adage, what doesn't kill you will make you stronger, comes to mind. It's true in our marriages, isn't it? When our vows are tested by sin in our spouse, or sin in ourselves, we walk through that fire begging for the trial to be over, only to emerge on the other side realizing we can now trust those vows. We know now that they stand up under fire! So is faith that has been tested by suffering - I know now that I will not lose my faith, that I can walk bravely (albeit with tears and sweat and begging for grace and mercy) toward the day He has fixed for my death. I will not crumble. His strength holds me up. I have tested it now, and so I can believe all the more.

Finally, the story of Manoah and his wife - Samson's mother and father - keeps coming up in various conversations and books. I think God is teaching me immensely through that story, found in the book of Judges. God speaks to them, and their reactions are polar opposite. They hear from God, and develop a set of expectations. When life fails to meet those expectations, Manoah falters, and his wife ponders the whole situation and arrives at a conclusion on which she acts. Martyn Lloyd-Jones puts it this way:

Suddenly, everything seems to go wrong. The situation is perplexing and baffling and quite the contrary of what we had expected and anticipated. We seem to break down altogether and to lose hope entirely. We jump to conclusions, and almost invariably, to the worst conclusion that is possible in the given circumstances, the same assumptions as that which led Manoah to his worst conclusion, (namely) that somehow or other, God is against us, and that all we had so fondly imagined to be an expression of God's goodness and kindness was nothing but an illusion. In the midst of disaster and trying difficulties, the Christian religion, instead of acting like a charm or a drug, and doing everything for us, and suddenly putting everything right, asks us, nay rather commands us, to think and to employ logic. Manoah's wife understood that God is never capricious; God is never unjust in his dealings with us; God never contradicts himself and his own gracious purposes.

Finally, Lloyd-Jones concludes with lines that bring me such peace in this time when everything seems questionable, chaotic, unsupportable. You may not understand what is happening to you; it may seem, to you, all wrong. Trust yourself to him. Believe when you cannot prove. Hold on to his constancy, his justice, his eternal purposes for you in Christ. Regard these as absolutes, which can never be shaken, build your case logically upon them, remain steadfast and unshaken, confident that ultimately all will be made plain and all will be well.

For now, we are staying in the battle, and seeing what happens.

Strands of gold

The law of the LORD is perfect, converting the soul: the testimony of the LORD is sure, making wise the simple. The statutes of the LORD are right, rejoicing the heart: the commandment of the LORD is pure, enlightening the eyes. The fear of the LORD is clean, enduring for ever: the judgments of the LORD are true and righteous altogether. More to be desired are they than gold, yea, than much fine gold: sweeter also than honey and the honeycomb. Moreover by them is thy servant warned: and in keeping of them there is great reward. ~ Psalm 19:7-11 KJV


God has completely provided for me this week. I remember my mother using that phrase when I was a teenager: I was always embarrassed when she said it, because it seemed so...well, unknowable. Years of experience walking beside and occasionally walking away from God's presence have finally taught me otherwise. Sometimes God moves like a whisper of a summer breeze through the rhythms of my day. Sometimes He is as obvious in His love and provision as a brilliant red and gold summer sunset, as thunderous as the rush of summer storms flying in on the wind from the west, the tide of the wind met with the deafening hum of cicadas and katydids mounting their collective voice in protest of the interruption.

This week has been a week when God thundered through my days. School work easily accomplished, housework coming along slowly, pleasure woven through my work, even calm enjoyment during a day of sickness with Amelia. Awareness is dawning in my conscience: the special season of prayer that precedes hormone withdrawal, scans and treatments brings with a swell in the tide of God's love and grace. I pray all the more, and He provides all the more. When the world says I should be lying in bed, wasted and sick from lack of a necessary hormone, He fills in my gaps and lifts me up with sheer strength that gives me a glimpse into an unbelievably deep reserve of power.

Today I am floating along on the crest of that sunlit way of God's provision. Basking in the glow. Enjoying every minute, every unexpected strand of gold woven through this life.

It's official...

I am having another scan in the end of March. Prayers answered: the dates will dodge Caleb's 1st birthday, my 30th, and Rosalie's 4th. SOOO happy to celebrate with them instead of being in isolation! Prayers still to be answered with a yes or a no: how I will tolerate the hypothyroid period - will I have energy to keep up with the kids, school, and the charity dinner I am helping sponsor next week? How will the scan go - please, God, no metastatic disease. Will I need another treatment? Will the next scan be a 5 day separation from my children, or a 17-18 day separation?

Here's the schedule...

• Immediately - stop thyroid hormone replacement
• March 5 (4 days after my 30th) - stop Cytomel, other replacement hormone
• March 19 - labs (this will shed a lot of light on metastasis; also pray insurance will approve the shipment of my thyroglobulin test back to the University of Chicago)
• March 23 - take I-131 radioactive iodine 7 millicuries for whole body scan
• March 25 - whole body scan
• March 26 - appointment with Dr. Bingham - determine whether ablation is necessary
• March 27 - either go home or get treatment dose
• April 10 - home if I need an ablation (treatment)

Please lift us up in prayer. We are sinking under the latest news.

This is only a test...

"He plays games — but not in order to entertain Himself. You can while away time in order to ward off boredom, but you cannot while away eternity. When I speak of God playing games, I do not mean it in the sense that Prof. Albert Einstein did, when he made his famous statement (In opposition to the Indeterminists) that, "I do not believe that God plays dice with the universe," in other words, that God is arbitrary. Of course he is right; God is not whimsical. I agree with Dr. Einstein that God does not play dice — but He does play games. Not games of chance, but games where effort and decency are rewarded, and where offenses against righteousness are punished.

David said (Psalm 2), though the kings of the nations plot and conspire, "He who dwells in the heavens shall laugh (or 'play'); the Lord will mock them." The laughter of God is no laughing matter. It entails the most serious theological issues and demands spiritual insight.

The game element enters as an emerging realization, when a pattern of justice begins to crystallize into a coherent structure from within the chaos of practical events. This awareness of a divine-moral pattern that over-lays our daily, petty, devious strategies, means that history is not completely caught up in causality; that economics and politics do not mean everything; that there is freedom and novelty and surprise and openness in life; that Marx was wrong, and Moses was right." ~ Rabbi Norman Lamm, from When God Plays Games

It is one of the double-edged swords of life that one must ask questions to find answers. Yesterday I was caught in a torrent of questions; they'd been collecting for months in the rain barrel of my brain, and the doctor tipped the barrel with his sudden proclamation that cancer is not over and it is going to continue to interrupt and pierce my life and my heart. Questions like, "Why would God do this?", flowing into "Why would He allow it, then?", and finally, "Does He really ask me to accept this?" Sometimes it seems ridiculous to me that questions that have been answered a thousand times before rear their ugly heads again in the face of a new tragedy. (A thousand times I've failed, still Your mercy remains; and should I stumble again, still I'm caught in Your grace. Everlasting, Your light will shine when all else fades... Hillsong, From the Inside Out)

Cancer is a spiral staircase downward: on the outset it looks pretty dark down there, but the stairway seems short. With each turn in the staircase, you begin to realize that the stairs may stretch to infinity, and that you are going to be descending for a long time. But you still only see the stairs immediately in front of you. The grand scope of the climb is not visible or quantifiable. Yesterday I rounded another turn and discovered more stairs beneath me. With each new low, I hope and pray that I am at the bottom of this dungeon, with nowhere to go but up. Apparently not yet!

The answers came, deep in the night, surrounded by the sleeping breath of husband and children. Answers: you are not alone, murmurings that I need to go beyond survival, whispers of love and provision amongst the scatter and ruin of a few treasured - now shattered - dreams. I feel convicted to choose my words wisely as I share my weaknesses with my friends and family. To be transparent but mindful. After all, this is my trial, not yours. I pray I am faithful to learn and grow through it, rather than wallow in it's sorrow. That you see me changing and maturing through this, rather than disintegrating into pain and self-pity.

An inconvenient truth

"For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways," declares the LORD. As the rain and the snow come down from heaven, and do not return to it without watering the earth and making it bud and flourish, so that it yields seed for the sower and bread for the eater, so is my word that goes out from my mouth: It will not return to me empty, but will accomplish what I desire and achieve the purpose for which I sent it. ~ Isaiah 55:8, 10-11We affectionately called it the "ghetto dryer". We received it as a housewarming gift from some dear friends, the top taped haphazardly to the bottom. That was almost four years ago. After a brief, near-flames moment, the heating element burnt out over Christmas. Much to my chagrin, six cycles on air dry simply did not dry a load of cloth diapers even a smidge!

I stood, hands on hips, questioning God's timing. The dryer, obviously a free gift to us, going kapoot over the holidays?? With everything else I have going on? Why does God pick the times He picks? Sometimes I am frustrated, bewildered - even angered - by His timing! Worse, we were out of money due to my extravagant desire to give generously on Christmas...no money left to replace the now defunct behemoth in my closet.


A call from Aaron: a $50 dryer on the classifieds at work. Skeptic that I am, I wearily pondered the probabilities of such a dryer functioning any better than the one I currently owned. I traded cars with Aaron in a parking lot in a blizzard: four car seats out, four car seats in. Drove what we affectionately call "the sardine can" (a.k.a. 1984 Honda Accord) home on icy roads with four kids exuberant over unexpected adventure.

The dryer arrived home. My hopes rose a bit - it was the same year and model as my extravagant front loading washing machine! Would it work? An hour of dragging the ghetto behemoth out of the closet, and averting various electrical wiring snaffus, and my husband turned the dial: it worked! It spun beautifully, warmed immediately, and was about as loud as snow blowing in the wind!

God is faithful to turn mourning into rejoicing, trial to blessing, teaching us quietly and determinedly through all the little bumps and bruises along the way. Would I have picked Christmas to learn of possible cancer metastasis? Absolutely not. Would I have chosen this week for my dryer to breathe it's last (hot) breath? No. But God did, and He is showing us, bit by bit and moment upon moment, why. In the case of the dryer, it may be because at that particular moment, a women we don't know decided to sell hers for a very low price - giving us a matched set. In the case of cancer - who knows? I may wait until I meet Him face to face in eternity to discover the answer. But I rest on the truth that inconvenience is more than it seems, that He is faithful, just and merciful. I close my human eyes to human perspective, and watch the glories of my Father dance on the screen of my closed lids.