Moved beyond dialysis

Lately my body has felt on the edge of collapse.  My bones have ached all over.  One Saturday I came close to falling asleep at the steering wheel, and it was scary to imagine what could’ve happened at highway speed.  I determined then to quit driving, I sought a new doctor, who in turn ordered some blood tests, and my eyes have viewed life a little differently ever since.  As I’ve sat at home and pondered much, the sweet face of my friend who deals with dialysis has come to mind.  Her uncomplaining smile speaks volumes for having found contentment in the Lord.  Longstanding frailty has not imprisoned her; rather it has served to blossom in her an amazing testimony.  A failed kidney transplant, any kind of steady job interrupted, many physical freedoms long gone, and still she radiates a gracious spirit.  Her fatigue continues, as do her hospital stays, yet her presence exudes testimony to the Lord’s strength within.  Three days a week she pulls open the door to the dialysis clinic, and when she arrives home afterward, it's like having worked a full-time job.  This week the notion hit me to prepare her a care package, and I trust that the Lord gave the idea.  A computer search of gift suggestions for dialysis patients turned up a sizable list, and I found immense joy in hoping to brighten her day.  A fun striped blanket, some cute colorful socks, new crossword puzzles, and some Skittles candy.  A small gesture in comparison, yet pure delight to anticipate giving.  Had the Lord not allowed my sickness and these days of immobility at home, I wouldn’t have the new insight for offering prayer on my friend's behalf.  May the Lord bless her, and you, dear reader, and those opportunities when He uses us to inspire each other.  My car may sit idle, but my heart has been moved.

Driving a fierce Corpus Christi storm

What’s it like to drive into a storm?  What bombards your brain when there’s no turning back?  Last weekend I shuddered to hear my friend retell this story.  Her trek on this eventful day was along the Texas coastline from Aransas Pass to Corpus Christi, which is a 30-minute stretch that usually paces pretty quick.  Having seen a storm warning on the TV morning news, she thought, “I’ll be fine.  I can’t afford to stay home.”  She pointed her little black Mazda toward the bigger city and suddenly fell victim to a darkening sky.  The purple and black were ominous, especially with the winds turning fierce.  Yellow construction signs ripped across the road, and something like seaweed strewed across her windshield.  The reality of flooding was imminent.  She pleaded, “Lord, make me strong.  I shouldn’t have left home.  I will listen to my husband next time.”  And it was then that these white lights appeared in front of her.  White lights that she could not explain.  It was a tow truck gliding just perfectly into her lane in the open spot ahead.  Nowhere earlier had she seen any evidence of this truck, yet now his 4 radiant white lights beamed a resounding message of hope.  Those white utility lights signified deliverance in a big way.  And my sweet friend arrived her workplace in fine form, having experienced the Lord literally shining His light on her dreadfully dark road.  Thank you, thank you, thank you, Lord.  And afterward her husband told her the winds had clocked at 70 mph.  Amen.

What do McDonald's, a collision shop, and an insurance office have in common?

I love how God uses something small to accomplish something big.  In this case, He began with 1 person and 1 event and kept adding different chapters to the story as people entered the room.  One girl shared about eating at McDonald’s and suddenly realizing, lo and behold, the Lord opening a door for her to mention His name with one of the employees.  All of us listeners were happy to hear, and I tossed in the story of the Lord prompting me to pray for the collision shop employees repairing my car and the thrill of talking about prayer with one of the shop supervisors.  All the while, smiles are growing and encouragement's blossoming throughout our classroom.  Another girl happily testifies to the Lord giving opportunity to mention His name at her insurance agent’s office.  None of these being intrusive occasions, but rather just perfect pauses into which the Lord compels our participation.  A fourth story giddily adds into testimony, and the whole aura of the room becomes wide-eyed and flourishing with excitement.  All gathering momentum from that first small mention of the Lord's name.  People gain confidence in recognizing the Lord at work in the ordinary day.  To tell about Him is vital because not every household speaks His name.  His name means hope, and we are people in need of that hope.  You may tell a story about the Lord that is perfect encouragement for someone's trouble.  Second Timothy 1:8 says, “So do not be ashamed to testify about our Lord . . .”  Don't fall into thinking that a story of God could ever be insignificant.  If God’s in it, it’s big, and it can inspire.

KLOVE & a napkin

How many times in the car have I pulled a napkin from the glove compartment to write down the words of a song?  All those extra napkins become lyric sheets when the radio's playing.  When KLOVE aired a Chris Tomlin tune recently, I again leaned for a napkin.  This song being about angel armies, I scratched a quick reminder about my friend regarding a job.  For weeks I’d been praying for him, and I wanted to be sure to talk with him on Sunday.  The lyrics said “the God of angel armies is always by my side,” and the words applied perfectly to my friend's situation.  That morning in the car wasn’t ordinary.  That song wasn’t just a song.  The Lord was solving a jigsaw puzzle regarding a job for my friend.  He fit the car and the song pieces into the puzzle that Wednesday morning, and on Sunday my friend told of how the Lord was stretching money and paying his bills.  Amazingly his bank account didn’t have a negative balance.  As he told the story, I smiled and chuckled to witness the Lord yet once again right in the middle of the details of our living.  I carried my handwritten napkin and shared it in testimony of the Lord weaving us all together.  Indeed He is great.  Every imprint of His presence resounds of His love.  And I have prayed for you today to know the presence of Christ.

The weight of holiday

My December 25 had a few hiccups.  Conversation was good.  Tamales and queso were good.  Laughter was plentiful and good.  But there were some moments when temptation pulled me back.  Glimpses of past sin ran amok.  On the outside, I smiled, and I truly loved every minute I spent with my daughters.  On the inside, doubt began to brew.  Doubt as to whether I had a right to any ounce of goodness in this world.  Doubt as to whether joy and laughter with my kids should be mine to experience at all.  Thoughts flitted and swirled and sucked me into a hurricane of guilt.  Slowly I sank underneath the weight of divorce.  But right there, the Lord came to my rescue.  He led me to Psalm 103:12, which says, “as far as the east is from the west, so far has he removed our transgressions from us.”  And His voice rang like a trumpet loud and clear.  The air became clean and crisp, and I could breathe.  The Lord won.  My sin would not steal my joy.  And this year how wonderful was Christmas Day to know the Lord’s love.

Cheated by a wife

“Ever since my wife cheated on me . . .”  That’s what this guy said yesterday as he entered the bus.  The guy stepped inside, paid his fare, and finished telling his buddy the story.  He made no attempt to gloss over the fact that life holds pain.  And hearing him talk made me think.  What do we do with our pain?  Even children on a playground don’t like to be cheated.  Somebody overstays their turn on the monkey bars, and the kids in line race off for a teacher to plead their case.  It’s like playing Monopoly and realizing the banker isn’t honest.  We scream, stomp, throw, and pitch fits, but in the end, where are we?  Psalm 68:19 says, “Praise be to the Lord, to God our Savior, who daily bears our burdens.”  God actually invites us to lay our burdens upon Him.  Hand our pain to Him, and let Him carry the weight.  Even if my eyes shed buckets of tears in the process, I want to ask Him to cleanse me.  In fact, crying does wonders to soothe tension.  And if a hangnail can nag me into being mad at the cat and grouchy at my husband, then I can afford no room to harbor big pain, small pain, or anything.  Please know, dear reader, how I prayed for you today to find refreshment in knowing Jesus Christ in a new way.  May this Christmas be wonderful because we experience His power to heal.

Traversing the ice

This past Saturday, I closed my eyes as we drove into Winter Storm Dion.  At 20 mph, maybe 30, the quiet helped my husband to drive, and I hoped to shut out anything that would make me gasp.  We checked weather reports via radio and TV and online, though it was worse than we foresaw.  Traveling 35W to Fort Worth, we met bridges untreated with sand or salt, and the first time the car slid, we knew we were in for an anxious ride.  My desperation led to prayer, as all we could see was a white horizon strewn with stranded vehicles.  Will there be less ice on the next bridge?  Should we exit the highway, but what if the access road is worse?  I asked the Lord to take hold of our steering wheel and guide all the miles ahead.  Just when Hemphill Street looked promising, we found thicker ice downtown and wondered if we’d ever escape colliding with all the parked cars and pedestrians.  For hours and hours afterward, I still felt rattled.  All I knew was to call upon the Lord.  All my moments feeling out of control were accurately just that.  Life became simpler, less complicated, and God was my sole intent.  It’s one way I’ve seen Him bring good out of bad.  Never knew how happy I’d be when the sun shone on Sunday.

Linked to curriculum

What task do you dread?  For me, it's often paperwork.  The job application.  The philosophy statement.  With music, it’s the charting of songs.  I can be glad to organize something, but the sight of too much paperwork leaves me exhausted before I ever begin.  Recently a friend asked me about writing curriculum.  Curriculum implies teaching, and teaching is fun.  But curriculum also means paperwork, and suddenly my celebratory balloon loses its air.  Would I have to sort through all the rigmarole of education guidelines?  The answer was no.  But still writing can be laborious, and I wanted to ask the Lord.  Weeks passed, and doubt crept in, haunting me with my inexperience and heaviness of task.  Yet with prayer, I found myself eager to write.  I dived in deep.  I determined to submit Lesson 1 to my friend and let her judge whether good or bad, but I wasn’t on the fence anymore.  Tuesday came, and my friend asked, “Did you get my text last night?”  I answered, “No.  I don’t have text.  But I brought you something.”  She queried, “What is it?  My text last night was to ask you if you had a chance to write the first lesson.  I have a girl coming in today, and we might give your lesson a trial run.”  And on that note, my heart leaped.  I took a deep breath and handed her my paper.  “I felt compelled to write this.  We didn't talk details, and there’s lots of room for change.  It's simply a rough draft.”  My friend read through the lesson and exclaimed, “This is exactly it!  You even put the Bible verse in it!”  I smiled to think of how the Lord matched our thought processes without the text ever delivering.  And that was only the first link in a chain of blessings that afternoon.  The Lord gave opportunity to pray amongst a new group of friends.  He gave me opportunity to speak Spanish and comfort someone.  Later He even answered my plea for a birthday gift idea.  The entire day was so sweet, having seen Him convert dread all the way into tears of joy and more.  And to remember blesses my soul still now.

At the collision shop

Last week the collision shop called to say my car was ready.  I thought, “Yippee!”  We’d been hoping and waiting for the car to be repaired, ever since that sad day when I hit the deer.  So Monday I picked up the car, but less than a mile down the road, the red airbag light suddenly shone on the dashboard.  “Oh, man!”  The mechanics had worked most all of last week to solve that very problem.  It’s a crucial safety issue, so I made a u-turn back to the collision shop.  They ordered a different seat belt part this time.  Tuesday morning I picked up the car again and drove home without any glitches.  Wednesday morning that red airbag light re-appeared.  I took a deep breath and drove back to the collision shop.  The estimator and manager both apologized, and the mechanics hopped right to task.  Taking a chair in the lobby, I decided I might as well clean out my big bag of a purse.  But amongst all the gum wrappers and scraps of paper at the bottom of my bag, something unexpected happened.  With the week's car frustrations bubbling to the surface, I prayed, “Lord, may you reveal the true problem with this car.  Whatever might have been hidden or overlooked, may You reveal the cause of the problem to these mechanics.”  Humbled quickly, I realized how the Lord had changed my thought pattern.  And when the estimator came to tell me the car was ready, I thanked him and smiled and explained about my prayer.  He responded only to shrug his shoulders and crumple his lips.  He explained about the seat belt, and I pondered what my reaction would have been if I were in his shoes.  Maybe the idea of prayer was new for him.  Maybe he thought prayer didn’t belong in a collision shop.  Whatever the reason, the Lord gave such pleasure to me in offering these quick words about prayer.  Since then, I've remembered something else that happened the first time I picked up the car.  I noticed a Bible sitting on the back seat, and I recognized it as the one usually underneath our driver’s seat.  One of the mechanics must have put it there.  I wondered how the Lord might have blessed the one who found it.  I wondered too if the Lord might have even connected the discovery of the Bible with the prayer He prompted in me in the lobby.  And I stand humbled on many occasions to realize how intricate and far-reaching are the Lord’s ways.  Proverbs 3:5 says, “Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding.”  That “yippee” I exclaimed earlier in the week really did apply, yet now it held deeper meaning, for all this time spent at the collision shop had been for more than just car repair.

For nail-biters & hair-twirlers

Do you have any fingernail-biters in your house?  Any hair-twirlers?  You know anybody who opens a bag of chips at the slightest hint of stress?  This week the Lord gave me new perspective on nervousness.  It seems our hands tend to toil when we’re uneasy.  We start to fidget.  We make ourselves busy to mask the tension.  Yet there’s remedy in simply separating the hands.  Those schoolteachers who tell their students to sit on their hands aren’t altogether wrong.  And hence the posture of prayer and worship.  When I’m prostrate, my hands don’t touch.  Hands cannot twist and twirl hair.  Hands can’t pop knuckles either.  When hands raise in worship of the Lord, hands are apart.  Thumbs can’t twiddle themselves into knots.  Hands can’t open the pantry door to search out the Oreos.  To find rest is to finally quit stirring.  To find rest is to quit biting fingernails, quit trying to fix everything on our own, and quit avoiding being still with the Lord.  With hands apart, we eliminate some of those worrisome energy-wasters.  And I thank the Lord for teaching this week with simple pictures.