The first day

It's a zoo around here...but I'm home!

Home sweet home. Kids, beautiful kids.

Silliness and cuddling and home-cooked meals and work to be done.

AND. A warm bed, and my love.

We rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not put us to shame, because God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us. For while we were still weak, at the right time Christ died for the ungodly. For one will scarcely die for a righteous person—though perhaps for a good person one would dare even to die— but God shows his love for us in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us. Since, therefore, we have now been justified by his blood, much more shall we be saved by him from the wrath of God. For if while we were enemies we were reconciled to God by the death of his Son, much more, now that we are reconciled, shall we be saved by his life. More than that, we also rejoice in God through our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom we have now received reconciliation. (Romans 5:3-11)

Linked to Ann Voskamp

The amazing face of Grace

"You asked for a loving God: you have one. The great spirit you so lightly invoked, the 'lord of terrible aspect', is present: not a senile benevolence that drowsily wishes you to be happy in your own way, not the cold philanthropy of a conscientious magistrate, nor the care of a host who feels responsible for the comfort of his guests, but the consuming fire Himself, the Love that made the worlds, persistent as the artist's love for his work and despotic as a man's love for a dog, provident and venerable as a father's love for his child; jealous, inexorable, exacting as love between the sexes." ~ C.S. Lewis, The Problem of Pain

I 'lightly invoked' the great spirit at age four - in that childlike faith Christ demands, seeing only the loving face of a sacrificial Savior, the face He revealed to me at that tender and innocent age. I had no idea just how "consuming" God was when I accepted His free gift of salvation. I had the notion that He wanted me to go to heaven (for some unknown reason) and cared little about me beyond my eternal fate. I read verses about 'good works', but thought little about them, except to determine that they were not necessary for my initial salvation - as per Ephesians 2:8-9, "for by grace are you saved, through faith, and that not of yourselves, it is a gift of God; not of works, lest any man should boast." I was puzzled by the inner pull I felt to honor God with my life, and irritated still further by the social constraints of being raised in a Christian family. I carried out my sins in private, boldly still wearing the badge of Christianity in friendships sullied by my poor choices after dark and behind closed doors. Irritation was not the only emotion I felt - I was torn, broken, battered, crushed, beaten, and heart-broken by my seemingly uncontrollable desire to sin, and confused as to why it crushed me so. Was I not "free in Christ"? Freed from the burden of a destiny in hell, couldn't I do anything I wished, without fear of the future? (forgetting many verses I learned in my youth, including Romans 6:19, which begged me to offer my body for holiness instead of slavery to sin: Just as you used to offer the parts of your body in slavery to impurity and to ever-increasing wickedness, so now offer them in slavery to righteousness leading to holiness.)

I wasn't free. I was bought with a price. My life turned once again one dark night of my college years when I contemplated suicide because of the blackness of my heart and my actions. Afraid it was futile, I remember kneeling by my bed (one of the first times of many that I prostrated myself physically before God as a sign of my inner brokenness) and crying out, truly crying and begging God for answers. In His amazing grace, He sent His grace on the beautiful feet of His servants: first my parents, loving me still despite my faults and wrong steps; my brothers, who passionately and fiercely protected me and told me that I was to be treasured, not used and discarded; my aunt and my grandmother, who asked no questions, yet knew more of the truth than I would have ever told them in words, and with quiet words and sweet silences communicated their love; my friend, who all through college persisted with me despite my depression and anger, then lived with me and struggled through the tension with me as I turned my life finally in a different direction. God saved my physical life from the myriad ailments that weakened me and brought me time again to that silent brink that separates life from death. And finally, He sent me to a job where I watched true suffering, bringing me perspective and a deep gratitude for His grace in sending me smaller trials. Then a husband, who loves me like the "consuming Fire" Himself, passionately, jealously, fiercely, yet quietly and gently - with a depth I didn't imagine possible. Through him, children who desire me and need me insatiably, demonstrating what it should look like to seek.

C.S. Lewis says that our suffering is a sign of God's love, not His indifference. Do we take more care and pay more attention when teaching those we love or those we hate? I am learning through suffering. God is removing another curtain from before my face, and, oddly, I am finding a new layer of answers to my big questions through the experience of cancer.

Be careful that you do not refuse to listen to the One who is speaking. When God spoke from Mount Sinai his voice shook the earth, but now he makes another promise: “Once again I will shake not only the earth but the heavens also.” This means that all of creation will be shaken and removed, so that only unshakable things will remain. Since we are receiving a Kingdom that is unshakable, let us be thankful and please God by worshiping him with holy fear and awe. For our God is a consuming fire. ~ Hebrews 12:25-28 exc. NLT/NIV

Consuming Fire
Fan into flame
A passion for Your name
Spirit of God
fall on this place
Lord have your way,
Lord have your way
with us

Come like a rushing wind
Fill us with power from on high
Now set the captives free
leave us abandoned to Your praise

Lord, let Your glory fall
Lord, let Your glory fall
~ Tim Hughes, Consuming Fire


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Praying you enjoyed this repost from the 2008 archives.
Happy New Year!

Ring out the old, ring in the new,
Ring, happy bells, across the snow:
The year is going, let him go;
Ring out the false, ring in the true.
~Alfred, Lord Tennyson, 1850

Walking the balance beam

"Methotrexate is a chemotherapy drug that targets rapidly dividing cells. Which is all the placenta is, really."

Really?

Call me old-fashioned - I thought it was a divinely perfect organ for the nourishment of a tiny, helpless human being a few cells this side of oblivion, on it's way to all that loveliness we call baby. When I heard the obstetrician talk in this way about the baby growing inside me, something seriously snapped. I am struggling with anger, distrust, and sarcasm as I deal with our care providers in Eau Claire - from the midwives who hung me out to dry on the abortion issue, to the physicians who missed Amelia's encephalitis for weeks on end. It is such a struggle to balance acceptance, submission, a quiet spirit, humility, my belief in a cursed world and a loving Jesus...with advocacy, righteous anger, wrestling Truth out confusing circumstances. I desire to abandon the mindless thrashing and argument over things of the world that will not last, and focus the little energy I possess today on the things that really matter: for instance, the fact that many of the doctors, nurses, and midwives working with our family through this time of suffering and possibly death are not on their way to an eternal heaven. Instead of fighting to save the life of myself or this baby, I need to show them...through words of love and submission to a sovereign God who has placed this child in my body...that my body and my life is not the final battleground on which to waste the rest of my ammunition. My body, my soul...Amelia's body and soul...even this tiny unborn baby's body and soul...are destined for greater things, a more beautiful place.

The biggest question still swirling around in my head and heart today is how to convey these things without looking like the barefoot, pregnant, married-to-a-Christian-neanderthal, blindly submissive, irrational woman they seem to think I am. The truth is, I made a decision to get a tubal based on rational information. I have a loving, serving husband who occasionally puts in his two cents, but for the most part, is quiet, humble, supportive, passionately loving, and admirable in ways I didn't know a man could be admirable. I like shoes - especially sandals - and rarely go barefoot. And anyone who thinks I am blindly submissive should go out with my husband for a beer sometime and ask him about that. He might have "two cents" to put down on that topic!

Pray for me on all counts. That I might speak Jesus in a situation where I definitely feel more like spewing some hellfire! That I might portray an intelligent but commited Christian in this difficult circumstance. That what shines through is the fact that I love Christ...and most of all, that He loves me, unboundendly, unexpectedly, unpredictably, unreasonably, irrationally.

Life is, in many ways, just as we've always known it around the Thul household. I enjoyed some moments of reconnection with Caleb last night - reassurance that this aloof little boy loves me as much as ever, despite another long 10 day separation. A reminder that each of my children grew miraculously during these early weeks of pregnancy...without constant watching and worrying and clinical indications. This baby inside me now could do the same...if we hadn't had these early tests, we wouldn't even be worried right now! Isn't that strange??!!

Amelia is enjoying being home with her sisters. Her deficits are fading daily: she started running (in a jerky, wide-legged stance) this morning, quite out of the blue. Her crossed eyes are improving as the days go by, worse when she is tired but not nearly as frequent during well-rested periods of the day. Her lack of coordination is still quite apparent, especially when we do activities that involve those small-motor skills and depth perception. True to rural Wisconsin form, I couldn't get her in with PT/OT until Wednesday of this week (there is only one therapist for the tri-county area on any given day). By the time the therapists arrive, I suspect we may no longer need them!

I was encouraged this morning by Hebrews 7:25 in the Daily Bible, which reminded me of a beloved tune we used to sing at Urban Refuge: Consequently, he is able to save to the uttermost those who draw near to God through him, since he always lives to make intercession for them.

When I think about the Lord,
How He saved me, How He raised me
How He filled me, With the Holy Ghost
How He healed me, to the utter most
When I think about the Lord,
How He picked me up and turned me around
How He placed my feet, on solid ground

It makes me wanna shout
Hallelujah, Thank you Jesus
Lord You're worthy
Of all the Glory, and all the Honor
And all the praise
~Makes Me Wanna Shout

The rose among the thorns

How well I know what I mean to do
When the long dark autumn-evenings come:
And where, my soul, is thy pleasant hue?
With the music of all thy voices, dumb
In life's November too!
...the whole is well worth thinking o'er
When autumn comes: which I mean to do
One day, as I said before.

~ Robert Browning, By the Fire-Side ~

My local cardiologist is so wonderful. He looked over all the records from Mayo, and was befuddled by their decision not to diagnose me with orthostatic intolerance. That is the diagnosis he gave me today, after reviewing the test results from Mayo. He is loathe to treat me, as the treatments can be worse than the illness. I tend to agree! The main factor that seems to exacerbate my symptoms is the hypothyroidism prior to my radioactive iodine scans followed by the rapid increase in medication post-scan and consequent hyperthyroidism. I will be treated with at least one cardiac medication during that process when I have my next scan in early December. I am hopeful that will help alleviate the massive increase in fainting episodes that I experienced last time.

The bad news is that I won't be driving until at least next summer. That's kind of a hard pill to swallow, on two counts: first, I have to ask for help; like most humans I hate asking for help. I hate being an inconvenience to people. I hate feeling pitied. Chalk that one up to foolish pride probably. Second, the country feels suffocating when you can't get out of it. The same black velvet blanket of night sky that can feel so liberating and peaceful, those same quiet afternoon whispers of wind, the same hollow echo of the dog's bark across the valley before us...the very silence that brings me peace when I am weary also smothers me when I am lonely. It is a good picture: that which is meant to bless is often twisted to curse us. Cancer is like that, too, I suppose. We wallow in pain and suffering when perhaps the trial was just bent to water our souls and teach us the deepest truths of life, the universe, the Love that surrounds. That we might have the "power to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ, and to know this love that surpasses knowledge--that you may be filled to the measure of all the fullness of God." (Ephesians 3:18-19)

My friend Heather has surgery tomorrow. Would you join me in praying that she will come through surgery quickly and easily, and that the surgeon would be able to remove all of the cancer?

Beautiful bruises

Beautiful...


...broken...


...created by God to love, learn and leave the crucible that is life on earth.


Every day is a bittersweet cup of sorrow and sweetness that we alone are beckoned to drink. No one can drink in our day for us. No one can do my work. No one else can feel my pain, nor my joy. It is the gift of each day from an infinitely loving and merciful Savior who has intimately planned each detail of each moment for my pleasure, growth, experience. I may not understand the intricacies. I may not appreciate bearing my crosses. I may at times rail at the work at hand. And yet, at the close of each day, in the peace of the late, coal black night hours, I see the stars glistening down on me as I stand on the land God gave me with the legs He gave me, and the crushing magnitude of His blessings crash over me in white, anguishing, turbulent surf. I am His and this is all for Him. How little my sufferings of today are compared to His bearing of my sin on the cross!

To the cross I look, to the cross I cling
Of its suffering I do drink
Of its work I do sing

For on it my Savior both bruised and crushed
Showed that God is love
And God is just

At the cross You beckon me
You draw me gently to my knees, and I am
Lost for words, so lost in love,
I’m sweetly broken, wholly surrendered

What a priceless gift, undeserved life
Have I been given
Through Christ crucified

You’ve called me out of death
You’ve called me into life
And I was under Your wrath
Now through the cross I’m reconciled

~ Sweetly Broken, Jeremy Riddle

Those who go before me

But is that enough? The terrible things in the world seem to make a mockery of the love of God, and the question always arises: Why?! God allows Satan to make a test case from time to time. It had to be proved to Satan, in Job's case, that there is such a thing as obedient faith which does not depend on receiving only benefits. Jesus had to show the world that He loved the Father and would, no matter what happened, do exactly what He said. The servant is not greater than his Lord. When we cry "Why, Lord?" we should ask instead, "Why not, Lord? Shall I not follow my Master in suffering as in everything else?"

Does our faith depend on having every prayer answered as we think it should be answered, or does it rest rather on the character of a sovereign Lord? We can't really tell, can we, until we're in real trouble.

...asking God to enable her to show the world what genuine faith is--the kind of faith that overcomes the world because it trusts and obeys, no matter what the circumstances. The world does not want to be told. The world must be shown. Isn't that part of the answer to the great question of why Christians suffer?

~ Elisabeth Elliot, A Path Through Suffering

Two more days until I am reunited with my family! I told Katy to put a big red "x" through today's date on the calendar so she can visualize how short a time of separation is left. Each day gets a little harder at this point. I imagine Wednesday will feel like a "party" day - I will wake up with butterflies in my stomach and spring in my step. I dreamt this morning about holding Caleb, and it felt so real that I tried to will myself to stay asleep to revel in the dream for a few moments longer.

How light and momentary my trials seem as I think about what others have gone through. A few of the stories that have been compelling me onward in courage beg sharing here. My aunt Shera has come to my mind again and again as I undergo this separation. She was divorced many years ago, and has lived a large part of her life alone, single. She is alone with God all the time, and I see the amazing peace she has, alone with Him. But her heart still cries out for companionship just as mine has done in these past two weeks. I hear the lonesome strains of the song of her soul every now and then in her letters or her words, sometimes her eyes. Yet, despite that song ever streaming from deep within, she has had to learn to dwell in God's peace, to satisfy her desires through Him, in a long-term sense. Who am I to complain during a brief separation from my husband and children?

As I woke this morning from my dream of holding my son, my heart was broken once again for the dear friends I have who have lost a child. How much more precious those visions during slumber must be to them who will not hold their dear one again in a few days time. My words are completely inadequate to express how humbled I am to watch Christ's dignity and willingness to bear a cross played out in their lives. How much deeper a well of suffering they must drink from...how much deeper that granite vein of strength born through trials runs in their hearts than mine...how much more still the waters of their souls are becoming as they learn to rest in God's presence and trust His teaching hand, however harsh it may seem to human understanding. They, truly, are overcoming the world, and show us, through their example, the wonderful, awesome and terrible faces of the mighty God we serve!

To him that overcomes the foe,
White raiment shall be giv’n.
Before the angels he shall know
His name confessed in Heav’n.
Then onward from the hill of light,
Our hearts with love aflame,
We’ll vanquish all the hosts of night,
In Jesus’ conqu’ring Name.

Faith is the victory! Faith is the victory!
O glorious victory, that overcomes the world.

~ John Henry Yates, Faith is the Victory, 1891

Pearls

The way of mercy
Takes me to the least
Down the road of suffering
To the wedding feast

For I know that You are faithful
As we walk these fields of white
To the weary and the hurting
let Your Kingdom comes
~Faithful, David Ruis

Prayers are always answered. Yesterday was a glorious day, a string of pearls unfolding before my very eyes as I opened gift after gift streaming straight from the hands of the Father into my bruised heart. Just when I thought I was at the end of the necklace, another bead glistened in the warm, Indian summer sun. The morning began with waiting...but not for the radioactive treatment, rather the glorious arrival of my newest niece or nephew! Megan was admitted to the hospital Sunday night, and I couldn't believe God was granting my prayer that I be able to hold their little one before I was quarantined! I called early in the morning to see about delaying my treatment, and was told I could come anytime before 4:30 p.m. Another pearl: a beautiful, sunlit day to treasure my children, share life with them, breathe in their sights, and sounds, and smells. Fill my cup up to overflowing so I can spill some drops of joy into my barren lap on a darker day in the November that will surely come.

We went to music class and delighted together in the cacophony and chaos that is kids and music and dancing in a high-ceiling art gallery lit with eastern windows and glistening pine floors. We gloried in Kosher salt at a local deli and beautiful, crumbly goat cheese that a low-iodine Mama can feast upon. We napped together in the lazy, beetle-buzzing afternoon in the unexpected bliss of open windows and the sound of corn husks rustling in the warm, summer-like breeze. I packed my car slowly, savoring every quiet moment of the house God has given us, listening to the children sleep and staving off sorrows that threatened at every moment. Still waiting for the call announcing the birth of that beautiful babe...

Late afternoon came, and no baby. Confounding! The day was a gift just for me...brought about by the "impending birth", which didn't happen. A glorious, free day that I wasn't expecting. A drive back into the reality of the city with the children bursting at the seams from our joyous, momentous, and totally ordinary afternoon. Hugs, hugs, more hugs, holding tears in with iron bands of will as I smiled and hugged some more. Swallowing the largest lump my throat has ever known...swallowing it a hundred times, tasting it's salty bitterness, and thanking God for my afternoon of pearls. One hundred times easier to swallow the large blue horse-pill of radioactive iodine. Primed with grief and disbelief, my throat found that an easy job. Sitting in a sterile little room with my husband beside me, I stared down into a little lead canister, took out the glass vial, unscrewed the cap and tipped it back to accept this cure that threatens to be worse than the disease that now invisibly ails me. The ache of forgetting a good-bye kiss before the poison passed my lips. Walking away carefully observing the "3 foot rule". Feeling the world open up like a chasm before me.

That longed-for freedom...that abyss of unlimited choice...the silence as the "fetters" of motherhood and wifery dropped from my ankles and wrists and shattered around my feet. How shall I now live? Adrift once again in a sea of strangers. Floating along in the tide and whim of self. What moors me? What steers me?

Underneath, there He is. His heart beat still propels me. My joy is still in Him. What a pearl to discover, that after all this time, and all these externally imposed guides and rigorous boundaries, I have continued to internalize the lessons He is teaching, to integrate them as part of my self and what propels me and gives me meaning. I am not adrift. My ways and means have shifted, and my purpose is the same. In this, as in all else, I am here for His glory. I exist for His service. I pray for His guiding hand. I long for His touch.

Waking this morning, the world is tasteless and odorless. The world is magically sterile, and glitters with new sparkle through my eyes, swollen and skewed from the localized effects of the radiation. There is a philosophical lack of focus, an attendant lack of agenda and timeframe; and a physical reality, an inability to perceive the visual all around me. Words and worlds are as hazy as time and duty are.

Pearls of sleep, and friendship, and deep, uninterrupted drinking at the Well of meaning and Truth. I curl up by the Well for a good long rest after five years of many thirsty moments.

That is what it's like to leave your life, your home, your job; everything behind you, it feels. Everything in front of you different and intimidating and wonderful all at once. For me that has been 24 hours of radioactive cancer treatment. Now, only 456 hours to go...

nearly November

Happy moments, PRAISE GOD.
Difficult moments, SEEK GOD.
Quiet moments, WORSHIP GOD.
Painful moments, TRUST GOD.
Every moment, THANK GOD.
~ author unknown

I remember when I was a child - and an avid reader beyond my years - I thought for many months that "Anon" was the greatest poet I had ever read! This little quote is profound but there is no one to credit.

Today has been a bleak day, one of those near-November days when the winds of change are cold and distinct, hinting at driving snow and skeletal trees and gray furrows in the field across the street. The sun came in long streaks of pale yellow through clouds racing across the horizon. My heart felt exactly like that - my children popping like little bursts of joy in a day that included much pain and processing of what is to come in the next few weeks. I had delightful times with my friend who is here to help. Even her sometimes-silent companionship felt like sliding into a warm bath of comfort. I also had aching breasts, literally a physical longing to comfort and love my little son, who spent the day beating at my chest, pulling my shirt, and crying to nurse. He is asleep now and I am left with no solution to my immediate problem.

I feel like I am stepping forward into an abyss of unknown - how will Caleb be fed? Will the children bear emotional scars from this long time spent apart? What will I do and think while I am away? What will my scans bring to light - an end in sight, or more suffering to come? The sense of the Everlasting Arms beneath me was faint today...sometimes I can literally feel the pulse in those wings, feel them bearing me up and their strength and power so close I can almost touch it. At other times, I wonder if I imagine them after all, struggling with disbelief and the cascade of temporal sorrows that abound wherever I turn. Today I felt just a flicker of the Comforter in the very peripheral vision of my day. I pray for renewed closeness and joy tomorrow.

"Rejoice in the Lord always [delight, gladden yourselves in Him]; again I say, Rejoice! Let all men know and perceive and recognize your unselfishness (your considerateness, your forbearing spirit). The Lord is near [He is coming soon]. Do not fret or have any anxiety about anything, but in every circumstance and in everything, by prayer and petition (definite requests), with thanksgiving, continue to make your wants known to God. And God's peace shall be yours, that tranquil state of a soul assured of its salvation through Christ, and so fearing nothing from God and being content with its earthly lot of whatever sort that is, that peace which transcends all understanding shall garrison and mount guard over your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus. ~ Philippians 4:4-7 (Amp)