Hope in the PT office

Hope is huge.  To the person without it, there’s an empty feeling.  To the person with it, there’s a sparkle in their eyes.  I relived hope recently as I talked with a physical therapist.  Explaining to him how I guarded my lower back for years, I guessed that a doctor would tell me I needed an MRI, which would lead to surgery.  Rather than submit to the unknowns of going under the knife, I chose to endure the pain I already knew.  Then my friend went to physical therapy, and I saw her health improve and her pain lessen dramatically.  She told me, “This PT office offers a free assessment, and I keep thinking of you when I’m there.  Why not go?”  So I went.  And the therapist told me I didn’t have a herniated disc.  He smiled, “I think in a couple of weeks we can have you feeling a lot better.”  And at first I was stunned.  Yet as reality set in, I felt hope disperse through my body, lending me almost tearful, sort of joyfully bewildered to imagine life with freedom of movement.  No more shifting my feet to keep standing.  No more bracing to a chair.  No more expectation of pain when I tried to lean forward.  I had hope now, and it lifted my whole outlook.  All the more does our hope in Christ lift us out of all sorts of weariness.  A heart rescued by Christ can experience a whole realm of living that flourishes.  Isaiah 40:30-31 tells us, “ . . . those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength.  They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint.”  Will you invite Jesus to bring hope to you today?  Will you offer the same to someone else?

A different optometry

I love surprises like this.  No ordinary appointment today.  Having become suspicious of some blurry vision, I visited the optometrist.  Asking him how he’d been doing, I learned about his dad’s health, which prompted a story of his dad’s life that included the Korean War.  What an inspiration to hear of this man’s care of people and love of life, though now very weak and ill of health.  The optometrist offered an earnest request for prayer, to which I was honored to respond.  So there in the office, we prayed together.  We prayed aloud.  We encountered some tearful moments that don’t enter every optometric visit.  The Lord bestowed a tender vulnerability with purpose above and beyond any physical ailment of my eyes.  The larger need involved more of a spiritual optometry, you might say.  First Peter 3:15 tells us, “. . . Always be prepared to give an answer to everyone who asks you to give the reason for the hope that you have . . .”  This day I was called to answer in prayer, sharing encouragement and our hope that is Christ.  For you, I ask the Lord to let you experience the joy of His surprises.  May He give new awareness of His purposes for your life.

Self-doubt & hospice

Ever wonder about your purpose in life?  Does the thought ever hit you, “What am I doing?” or “How did I get here?”  Sometimes it helps to retrace my steps.  Four months ago, I began volunteering with hospice.  I loved the idea from the start, but once finally meeting my patients, a day came that I suddenly panicked.  My confidence vanished.  I lacked any solid sense of how to greet and lead conversation.  Questions of self-doubt crept in.  Yet I remembered praying long before.  Before answering that VolunteerMatch inquiry, before completing that very lengthy volunteer application, before consenting to a background check, before driving to meet my volunteer coordinator for the first time, I asked the Lord to guide any decisions about where I should be.  And to recall that sequence of events, recognizing again that it was all predicated on prayer, helped to reassure me that I was in the right place.  Coming to mind also was Matthew 10:19, which tells us, “. . . do not worry about what to say or how to say it.  At that time you will be given what to say, for it will not be you speaking, but the Spirit of your Father speaking through you.”  Even though Jesus spoke these words to the apostles about circumstances of arrest, I trust the message translates to other settings.  In my situation of hospice, indeed the Lord provided.  He supplied joy in visiting my patients, inspiring me with words to say and songs to sing, refreshing me with new amazement for seeing Him at work.  So when you next sense any self-doubt approaching, may you trust in His word.  May you seek His deliverance, knowing He saves us once unto eternity, yet He saves us over and over for His daily purposes on this earth.

Hospital's inquisitive boy

“He’s cool!  I wanna get my degree and be a PT!”  Those words I heard from an adventurous boy.  Evidently his grandfather’s physical therapist made a favorable impression.  And while not every seventh-grader would appear undaunted in a large medical facility, this boy was actually enjoying the hospital’s open roads.  Navigating the elevators and making trips to the lobby and onward to the gift shop, even asking me directly about my role as a volunteer, he queried with earnest interest, “Are you here every day?”  I answered, “Just one day a week here, but I volunteer at other places too.”  I mentioned how he could become a volunteer as a high school student in just 2 years, adding “My daughter even found a job at a hospital by volunteering first.  You can volunteer at all kinds of places, in the day and at night.  My husband and I had fun volunteering at a music festival recently, and then we got concert tickets for free.”  With that, his eyes bounced wide with excitement, saying “I wanna do that!”  I continued, “I pray for the Lord to lead me each day.  I ask Him to lead me where to be, what to do, what to say.  He makes the connections.  He takes care of everything.”  Then we paused.  “Do you know Jesus?” I inquired.  And the boy nodded his head affirmatively.  It was an intriguing conversation and such a highlight of the day for me.  First Peter 3:15 tells us, “. . . Always be prepared to give an answer to everyone who asks you to give the reason for the hope that you have. . .”  In this case, how amazingly did the Lord connect an inquisitive boy and a hospital volunteer to encourage them both in His name.

Patient Puppetry: Plan B

I wondered how this trip to the hospital would play out.  My puppet partner was still out of town, and I’d been praying.  With a loose idea of how to adapt our puppet script, I left our usual cardboard theater at home and this time would enter the puppets from around a corner in the hospital playroom.  I’d tell some silly jokes, such as “What’s the best way to keep dogs out of the streets?” (Answer:  Put them in a barking lot.)  I’d also change puppets frequently, making exaggerated entrances like “E-x-c-u-u-u-s-e  m-e,” then asking a laughable question to encourage kids to smile.  Because we never know exactly who'll attend our puppet shows, whether teenagers, toddlers, or even adults, our need for flexibility rates high.  And I had asked the Lord to impart His selection of songs for us and tailor the whole occasion for the sake of any and all who would come.  Sometimes I caught myself smiling days ahead, just imagining the fun of interacting with these children.  So when Thursday came, I happily packed my cart for the hospital.  Turns out the playroom that day held extra volunteers who welcomed me in.  Eventually we greeted parents, grandparents, nurses, therapists, and a chaplain who joined our quite lively group of young patients.  Only "Jesus Loves the Little Children" from our regular sing-a-longs made the lineup that afternoon, as a very kind volunteer wholly adopted the new role of puppet front man, practically emceeing the whole routine.  To hear the kids chuckle and realize the Lord supplying them enjoyment, even in the midst of medical heartache, was truly a thrill for me.  To witness the Lord orchestrating words and timing among volunteers was awe-inspiring.  Indeed He had prompted my heart to make this trip, and along the way He supplied everything necessary to carry it out.  Philippians 4:19 says, “And my God will meet all your needs according to his glorious riches in Christ Jesus.”  Amen.

Intravenous puppetry

My, oh my, how Christ loves children!  I’d been praying about our next puppet trip to the hospital, and the idea recurred to make a cardboard theater.  I found a scrap piece of cardboard, sprayed it with some old white paint, and tried cutting out a puppet window and gluing down some leftover red ribbon as trim.  A gray remnant of fabric and a piece of doweling lying waste in the garage provided for the theater's curtain.  Days passed, I continued praying, and one Saturday at dinner, some friends showed me photos of some very inventive spoon puppets.  Now I’m all keen on getting home to see if I still have that old wooden spoon I never use!  My new puppet partner made us some medical puppets with popsicle-stick handles, plus we still had the bigger puppets I sewed last year, and for music we now had an extra flute that another friend gave me.  Also we have a Little Red Riding Hood doll trio on loan from a friend from church.  So this trip to the hospital was looking a bit different than previous.  Many people we loved meeting in the hospital hallways, and some for only short periods in the playroom, yet there was one little girl who stayed with us the whole time.  It’s with her that I saw the Lord illustrating His love in detail.  Only He could know the pleasures of this little girl's heart and prepare us accordingly.  At first, she sat quiet and watched puppets appear one by one.  She grinned when we sang and eventually giggled and asked to strum the ukulele and hold our extra flute.  Then this tiny voice piped up to announce she wanted to be puppeteer, so we made room for her IV to roll alongside her behind the theater, and lo and behold, she donned a smile signaling new command of the playroom!  Puppets found new voice and new dance, and as she designed her own paper bag puppet, I marveled at the extent to which the Lord provided for this little girl.  She remembered most all of our puppets’ names and took special fancy to our new spoons Paul and Cindy.  And from our collection of medical puppets, she had a fondness for the puppet with his own IV, which perfectly matched her own.  In Mark 10:14, Jesus says, “Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of God belongs to such as these.”  And so I thank the Lord for His capacities to see far and wide and to love to great extents.  This day we invited our guests to each draw a picture on our cardboard theater, and they sent us home with a souvenir we treasure.  Thank you, Lord, for answering our prayer to prepare the way. 

Gift of scarves

To buy a friend some scarves.  It’s such a simple thing.  Yet such immense pleasure came in the shopping.  One light blue, one black, one reddish brown, each scarf in a fun print that would look so sweet on her.  YouTube has lots of good ideas, whether wearing for beauty or for warmth.  Even hours of deliberating over fabric brought such joy, just hoping to remind my friend that she’s loved and that she's not alone.  Cancer is a big word.  It’s a heavy word.  When my friend hurts, so do I.  When she loses her hair, I want to take away her pain.  I ask the Lord to heal her and lift her from sadness and show me a way to help.  When talking about the body of Believers, 1 Corinthians 12:26 says, “If one part suffers, every part suffers with it; if one part is honored, every part rejoices with it.”  So I continue to pray for the Lord's presence upon my friend.  His power surpasses all.  His love transcends.

Different Jericho, different trumpet

A different kind of idea ran through my head.  Actually it made me a bit nervous, in a good way.  New ideas tend to do that, at least the ones the Lord plants in me.  So I was certain to ask Him, “Lord, is this of You?”  I’d never taken my flute to the abortion center before.  My time there had ebbed and flowed over the years due to work schedule and various things, and lately I’d been driving there on Tuesdays to pray.  I occupy the public sidewalk in front, between the parking lot and the street, in case anyone reconsiders their decision and wants a prayer companion or a listening ear.  And so now, as I'm thinking through this new idea, which is to take my flute and play “Jesus Loves the Little Children,” I realize it's a rather simple task.  Yet I wondered, “What will people think of the flute?  Will someone say I'm too loud?  Will they tell me to quit playing?  What if I disrupt someone else's prayer?"  Temptation came in many forms, yet I decided to take the flute with me.  I knew the honks and screeches of the nearby street could easily drown out my tiny melody.  No one but me and the Lord might hear the song.  As it turned out, one girl smiled to greet me, “Oh, are you playing today?  I wish I thought of something like that.”  Then another chimed in, “I’m so glad you brought your music.”  And as it seemed the Lord had nestled me within the encouragement of others, I proceeded to play unto Him.  I loved Him for walking with me down this new road.  That day and many Tuesdays since then, I've recalled the story of Jericho.  In Joshua 6, the Lord instructs Joshua to march with his men around the city and sound their trumpets.  Certainly my flute is not the first instrument the Lord has called to purpose.  Certainly my circumstances are not the first to be viewed as different or strange.  And as Joshua's obedience to the Lord led him to victory, we can be confident our obedience will yield blessing as well.

Lost at the medical tower

What a good feeling to help someone.  My fellow volunteer and I stopped to talk at a bench in the medical office tower.  We noticed a girl entering the lobby, then exiting, then re-entering.  She explained her trouble in finding the LabCorp office, and so we endeavored to lend a hand.  In the course of the next hour, we saw a whole team come together to aid this girl who recently moved from Colorado.  Quite an army that the Lord orchestrated.  Quite a plan of rescue.  First, a maintenance man tried to help.  Then, my friend and I took a turn as hospital volunteers.  Next, a nursing director who made a phone call from within the second hospital connected across the parking garage.  Then, another employee who heard the director talking and chimed in to guide us to the covered walkway to LabCorp.  And as we finally arrived at LabCorp, all smiles, we saw the empty office, which meant no waiting for us, and I offered to stay through her test to help her retrace our trail back to our original lobby.  And glad to say, our trek back was pretty straightforward.  And I kept thinking the rest of the day what a delight it was to step into her world and away from any personal rat race of my own.  How faithful was the Lord to create this amazing sequence of connections, all on account of one child praying to her Father for help.  And from my side, my prayer that morning had been for Him to set me on His path and use me for His purposes.  First Peter 4:9-10 tells us, “Offer hospitality to one another without grumbling.  Each one should use whatever gift he has received to serve others, faithfully administering God’s grace in its various forms.”  We are indeed blessed to serve beyond ourselves.  Amen.

Pediatric puppets

To watch God work is such a thrill.  All giddy and giggly, I feel like a little kid.  And to realize this thrill is available to us all is another excitement all its own.  Recently I’ve made 2 trips to the hospital with a friend to share puppets and music.  The whole idea for puppets began almost a year ago.  Adding ukulele, harmonica, percussion eggs, and a tambourine felt almost natural, following on a first request for soothing music, maybe flute, in the NICU.  Lots of playful sounds for young interaction.  Sometimes wondering if this mix would actually fit with any therapy textbook, I trust the Lord ultimately to tailor our tasks.  And the string of conversations to make all this happen has involved some waiting time.  But then one volunteer coordinator at one hospital called another volunteer coordinator at another hospital, and soon came song and music suggestions from friends and YouTube and some books about making puppets.  Not too long ago I realized the Lord supplying me with fabric, jewelry, craft items, even socks, mostly free as friends cleaned out their closets, leaving me to purchase only occasional small pieces.  The musical instruments the Lord supplied me over the years, even receiving some as gifts.  Then came days like New Year’s Eve when I was tempted, “Why am I making puppets?  I don’t even have a definite place to use them.”  Yet I kept praying and constructing them in faith.  And now I load my pull-cart to tote everything into the hospital to meet these precious children.  We meet a little girl who smiles to name one puppet Albert.  Two young sisters find inspiration in the ukulele to tell us about their older sister's music.  Two different playrooms resonate with our traveling percussion sounds, and we learn the flute eases the heart rate of a little girl in ICU.  All this while the puppets dance and sing and welcome their new puppeteers.  Simply awe-inspiring of the Lord.  At times we feel just goofy with glee.  And we eagerly await our next trip down the hospital hallways.  May He give us fresh eyes for recognizing the thrill of each new blessing.

Abscessed

How does heroin use lead to an abscess?  This man told me that’s what put him in the hospital.  “The doctor told me it’s probably because I share needles,” he reported rather matter-of-factly, though our conversation became far more than factual.  For a 28-year-old I’d known only 5 minutes, he divulged his story quite openly.  “I don’t want to go back,” he continued, “and I really don’t know much about praying.  And I’m still fighting the withdrawals.”  Yet he spoke clearly and seemed so grateful for someone to listen.  “My buddy’s got abscesses on his chest, and I told him it’s because of our needles.”  And as this man in the hospital bed pleaded with emotion, I spoke into his eyes, “Do you know how much Jesus loves you?”  His eyes veered away, perhaps feeling a weight of blessing.  No matter the battle, whether drugs or other, Jesus’ power can conquer.  He offers us rest, telling us it’s only when we choose against Him that we cannot enter that rest.  Hebrews 3:19 reads, “So we see that they were not able to enter, because of their unbelief.”  Today this man’s story inspired me because he was already looking upward.  Jesus can save him from his drug battle and ultimately all his battles, yet each of us faces the same choice to ask the Lord into our heart as Savior.  Today the man allowed me to give him a small Gideons Bible.  And I am so happy to continue praying on his behalf.

Fight on Babcock Road

Not all battles are obvious.  Not every fight is visible from the outside.  One morning my stomach went topsy-turvy, and I didn’t think too much of it.  Then I remembered the story of Job, where Satan afflicted him with physical sores from the soles of his feet to the top of his head.  Job's pain was so severe that he picked up a pottery shard to try and scrape away the agony (Job 2:7-8).  That was Satan's tactic then, and he might still attack physically today.  In fact, the more I pondered the idea, the more my topsy-turvy stomach served to motivate me.  I didn’t like the idea of Satan deterring me from anything.  I continued visiting patients at the hospital and recognized the Lord giving a particularly tender conversation, which Satan would have loved to hinder.  I drove to the abortion center to pray, as planned.  Interestingly the somersaults in my stomach ceased.  No more queasiness, and what an amazing joy that came for praying in a place so dark with death.  My joy deepened all the more for realizing the Lord’s power to thwart any of Satan’s antics.  All the more vibrant was my prayer.  I asked the Lord to bring life to that whole area, to shower love upon this property on Babcock Road to dispel and replace all that had been destructive in the past.  May those who enter that parking lot, those who walk or drive by, those who work inside the building, those who live in the neighborhood, and those who pray on the sidewalk know the depth of love and forgiveness that Jesus offers.  That’s a big prayer.  Yet we have a big God.

Saturday hospital plea

You know those days when you wake up so tired?  I'd love a nap.  Absolutely love it.  I lay down around 2:00, but my body wouldn’t relax.  I was restless.  Even with our sweet cat Sally hopping in my lap, the nap didn’t happen.  This Saturday a friend asked me to come to the hospital, and it would mean driving across town for a lengthy visit. Circumstances were complicated, and the Lord used my inability to sleep to spur me toward the car.  He parted the waters for an almost traffic-less drive, an easy hospital parking spot, and blessed conversation.  And you can learn a lot sitting in a hospital room.  In this case, I didn’t know who I’d meet.  Given my friend’s history of abuse and violence, would I meet some of her abusers?  Would I meet those who neglected her in childhood?  Or would the people have changed their ways?  I prayed for private time, hoping privacy might ease my friend into speaking freely.  But the Lord gave something different.  I walked into a roomful of guests, and one man motioned to me, “Please come in.  We’re speaking God’s word here.”  Still I didn’t know who this visitor was, but I entered, greeted everyone, and listened.  Another visitor came, this time wearing a black-and-white clerical collar, and I didn’t know him either.  Actually the whole occasion became quite inspiring, and all because the Lord didn’t give me what I asked for.  Never did I feel sleepy that afternoon, nor did I lack energy for participating in conversation.  In truth, I’m glad the Lord didn’t give me what I wanted.  We are meant to share our lives and not stay bottled in comfort of ourselves.  Instead of sleep, He gave me rest.  I can take a nap another day.

 

To sing Wednesday

Allergies.  Ugh.  My husband and I were scheduled for music on a Wednesday night, and this itch in my throat wouldn’t quit.  Rehearsing at home led only to gagging and more gagging, causing us to lose all momentum of the songs.  How could a mere itch be so crippling to a voice?  Have you ever been so ready to pour into something, and then there’s a snag in the pour spout?  In my case, the itch kept snagging the voice.  So I asked the Lord to allow my throat a way to sing.  “Lord, may You give freedom for air to flow.  May You protect my voice.  May Your voice sing freely through mine.”  And so at 7:00 we began.  The first song . . . the second song . . . the third . . . and the fourth.  All the while there's a joy deepening inside me and utter amazement for how the Lord is preventing any inhibitions to my voice.  Yet afterward as I took a seat with the congregation, what happened?  I started coughing.  The itch returned and so did the gag, though just briefly, as if the Lord kindly reminded, “I'm here.  You asked Me to guard your voice during the songs, and I did.”  It was the timing, the precise moment after singing.  I hadn’t even fully sat in the chair before needing to exit the room, so the cough wouldn't interrupt everyone else.  That brief itch lent me to reflect on all the allergy troubles before prayer versus the peace the Lord offered after prayer.  And so I ask you, as a reader here today, “How do you need the Lord?  Do you ask Him for a voice to sing or for something different?”  He loves to hear the call of your heart.  I have prayed for you already.

Hospital's oboe voice

What a sweet surprise.  Never before had I played oboe for my fellow volunteers.  Even receiving the invitation to play, I could feel my heart flutter because it’d been years since playing at a hospital.  Learning how our volunteer coordinator likes to display different talents from within the group, it seemed oboe had not been part of any previous luncheon.  Would it be too loud?  Too soft?  Too piercing a sound?  I endeavored to arrive a little early and set up, and when the clock hit 11:30, I moved toward my music chair.  “Over the Rainbow” was fun.  “Amazing Grace” warmed my heart.  “My Favorite Things” and “Simple Gifts” seemed to draw favorable reaction.  And then came the one song I anticipated special delight in playing.  In honor of my friend who cuddles the babies in NICU, I played “Jesus Loves the Little Children,” as it’s her favorite set of lyrics to sing over our little ones, and she happily tells how they respond with a smile.  The whole occasion that day brought such joy for me.  To thank our many volunteers for their hours and weeks and years of service, having asked the Lord to sing freely through my oboe and to let nothing hinder His voice, it was a privilege to take part.  Zephaniah 3:17 says, “The Lord your God is with you, he is mighty to save.  He will take great delight in you, he will quiet you with his love, he will rejoice over you with singing.”  As a child can find rest in the sound of her parent's song, I love the idea of my Father singing and the thought of extending that restfulness to others.  When a lady smiled to say she heard the oboe all the way down the hall, I hadn’t known the sound would reach that far, but I trust it was the Lord making His way to her ears. 

To Voskamp's thousand

“You can’t handle the truth!”  That was Jack’s line, with the burning glare and that unrelenting arrogance.  Today I revise Jack’s words on account of something Ann Voskamp says.  In Chapter 1 of One Thousand Gifts, she talks about the sin of ingratitude.  God told Adam he was free to eat from any tree in the garden, except for one.  And Adam chose that one.  So we wonder, why did he allow himself to be lured to the forbidden?  With an abundance that pleased the eye and also the health of the body, why?  It’s like the time I had a shoulder ache.  The pain worsened and worsened and eventually preoccupied my every thought, and I pleaded for the Lord to take it away.  Then one day it was gone.  And with it also disappeared my fervency of prayer.  The Lord had illustrated for me how He brings good from bad and how without the bad pain, I wandered away.  Generally people don’t handle the good very well.  Jack would say, “You can’t handle the good!”  Our provisions are set, our worries should be none, yet we carelessly wander away from the Lord, so He sometimes allows a point of pain to re-center our need of Him.  Our eyes reopen to the realization of our nakedness, our insufficiency on our own, our personal lack.  Hence the importance to be thankful.  Let us not slide away.  May we not require the Lord to illustrate again with pain.  How many times do we relive the fall of Genesis 3?

Beyond our hospital team

Team-building.  It can be good.  My group of hospital volunteers set out last month to improve ourselves via team-building.  An effort toward considering the other person first—whether patient, visitor, staff member, or fellow volunteer.  We walk in someone else’s shoes, so to say, and thoughtfully view from their perspective.  And on this particular Wednesday, a seemingly small gesture had profound effect.  Session 1 asked us to wear a blindfold and let our partner guide our steps.  I imagined my partner holding my arm or my hand and walking alongside.  But that’s not what happened.  I stood behind my partner, and she took my left hand to place it atop her left shoulder and my right hand to place atop her right.  So simple, but what a difference.  This way, my feet would step only where both her feet had already trod.  I didn’t worry about her forgetting to warn me about anything because her whole body was step-for-step directly ahead.  We weren’t walking different parts of any aisle.  She would meet obstacles before I would.  She would withstand the brunt of any collisions.  Any turn she would encounter first.  Jesus says in John 8:12, “…Whoever follows me will never walk in darkness, but will have the light of life.”  And the Lord illustrated this for me with new meaning.  As a cancer patient finds comfort in a cancer survivor, as a rehab resident is encouraged by a recovered addict, as a fearful young mom heeds wisdom from her older neighbor, we find confidence in knowing Jesus walks before us, after us, and along both sides.  Never will He abandon or forget to guide.  Nowhere will He not provide for our need.  He saves us today, tomorrow, and the next day, and ultimately He saves His children from the eternal torment of death.  He's protected me countless times that I haven't realized until much later.  And on this day at the hospital, I love how He revealed Himself within the ordinary day, how He entered my thinking, how He enlightened our team-building for the grander scale of life itself.  May we ask to sense His presence.  May we know the joy of having Him lead.  There’s no inch of this earth beyond His reach.

Jesus, my monologue

Last week I traveled to the Valley.  In Texas, that’s the southernmost portion of the Texas/Mexico border.  There God gave a particular blessing that's continued to amaze me.  Never had I experienced Him in quite this way.  The trip began with a sore throat, a runny nose, and nasal congestion—a common trio in our neck of the woods.  Coughing came, and soon I could hardly breathe without a rattle in my chest.  Ability to sleep was minimal.  By our fifth day when my theatre group had its 3 final performances, the rattle had become a rumble.  I managed to stand but very weak of energy.  All those waking hours through the night, I asked the Lord to cover and protect my body, to provide, to sustain, to prevent me from coughing.  For me to cough once would likely set in motion a whole chain of coughs and certainly a disruption to our theatre story.  I asked the Lord, “How will this work?  How will I perform this monologue?”  Quite possibly this portion could feel a lifetime beyond its actual 7 minutes.  And then it was showtime.  Turning the corner on the backdrop, I entered center stage and saw the children.  Finishing the rhythm-and-rhyme section, I could feel a cough approaching.  Yet it passed.  The next sentence, it returned.  Then it passed again.  The fluctuation I knew was the Lord preventing me to cough, and all the while my heart leaped in amazement to realize this effectual tug-of-war over my throat.  Next came the singing section.  The upper note felt a bit muffled, but I noticed no stir in the audience and still no cough.  The raging battle was coming to quell.  Such a physical experience with the Lord I’d not had before, not in this 1-on-1 way.  And amazingly the monologue finished without incident.  The Lord won.  A testament to how He answers prayer and compels His will to completion.  Just as He breathed life into Adam in Genesis 2, so He was my breath this day.  Back home, a doctor diagnosed me with acute bronchitis, and as I stared at my antibiotic and steroid, I relived my monologue.  I remembered the question “How will this work?”  In this case, the answer didn’t reveal until I stepped out into the open.  The Lord supplied my air.  He kept my airway open.  He was my monologue. 

Only on Wednesdays

Something about Wednesdays.  October 8 - My car wouldn’t start.  October 15 - We were patching up plumbing problems, so I stayed at the house.  October 22 - The car wouldn’t start again, yet it worked just fine all the other days since we replaced the battery 2 weeks ago.  Each of these Wednesdays I’m not visiting patients in the hospital as planned.  I’m also not praying in front of the abortion center.  So I paused to think:  Why now?  What's happening now that might cause this?  Answer:  2 things.  (1) My husband and I set out to read the Bible in 90 days.  (2) I’ve been memorizing Romans 4 and 5.  Only these 2 things could I think of that were new in these recent weeks.  I asked friends for their insight, and most gave the same answer.  The chaplain at the hospital posed, “Do you get the idea the enemy doesn’t want you here?”  And that was pretty much what my friends said.  The Bible says in 1 Peter 5:8, “Be self-controlled and alert.  Your enemy the devil prowls around like a roaring lion looking for someone to devour.”  Yet 2 Timothy 4:18 says, “The Lord will rescue me from every evil attack and will bring me safely to his heavenly kingdom . . .”  Second Chronicles 16:9 attests to the eyes of the Lord always roaming the earth in our defense.  So all the time the devil is on the prowl to destroy, the eyes of the Lord are on the alert for our benefit.  The battle is spiritual.  We feel the heat.  The gunfire scrapes pretty close sometimes.  While I don’t consider every trial to come from Satan, in this instance the timing is curious.  Hospitals and abortion centers are certainly battlegrounds.  If Satan is on the prowl and mad about my praying there, he could be extra mad about the Bible reading and memorization.  It's certainly his mindset to try to thwart anything the Lord loves.  But the Lord wins ultimately.  Through every trial, through every irritating event, through every attempt to distract, the Lord provides us a way out.  And for my husband and me, the distractions and the rescues continue.  For that second morning when the car wouldn’t start, the Lord pointed us to the perfect YouTube post to replace the starter solenoid in our old 2000 Expedition.  Next we realized the front brakes starting to grind, and the Lord gave us cool weather for replacing them on a Sunday afternoon.  Following that, I drove to the furniture store to pick up our new bed and realized it wouldn’t fit in the car.  But there again, the Lord supplied the idea to use ratcheting tie-downs across the luggage rack.  Then came an incident in the church parking lot, which was of a different nature this time and not a mechanical problem.  It was a case of my mouth spewing.  I complained about the way my husband parked the car, and he bit back with sharp words of his own, revealing just how on-edge we’d really been.  Our bundle of tension had sat barely beneath the surface all this time, and it was amazing how the Lord protected us that we hadn't erupted earlier.  Though now our damages reached into the heart, still they could be forgiven.  Altogether our problems have been merely hassles.  The tug-of-war has made us tired, yet the Lord has replenished.  And I'm determined all the more not to relent on reading the Bible or on memorization.  The song “Onward, Christian Soldiers” comes to mind, for Christ really does lead us against the foe.  You, me, all of us.  Be encouraged that He fights on our behalf.

Inspired like Fahrenheit

I’d been ignoring Him.  At least I didn’t want to deal with this one thing.  My time with theater had shown I could actually memorize a monologue I once viewed nearly impossible.  And the notion had repeated in my head that I needed to memorize more than just theater lines.  Memorization of Scripture would be priority.  One day I visited patients in the hospital, and a lady asked me to write down Scripture for her family.  Suddenly my mind went blank.  No verses from Hebrews.  No verses from Psalms.  Nothing I’d memorized long ago was coming to mind, and the emptiness hit hard.  How reliant I had become on a concordance and having a hard-copy Bible at hand.  Yet this emptiness and depth of sorrow set me on a very determined road.  First I prayed, “Lord, don’t let this family here in the hospital be devoid of Scripture due to my neglect.”  The Lord pointed me to a hard-copy Bible, so I copied verses, humbly handed them to the family, and proceeded home to begin memorizing Romans 5.  Aside from the Bible, one of my all-time favorite books is Fahrenheit 451, in which the firemen take the backwards role of igniting fires.  Bradbury makes us think.  Toward the end, he introduces us to the bearded men who memorize books.  These men memorize to keep their knowledge safe and intact and out of the hands of the firemen.  Their minds are libraries.  Today, in real life, I need the wisdom of the Bible safe and intact in me.  The task of memorization has led me to meditate and more closely appreciate the love of God.  How immensely I am pleased to now answer the Lord’s prompt to memorize.  I’ve experienced anew the words of 1 Corinthians 13:4 – “Love is patient, love is kind.”  Will you choose to memorize as well?