Monthly Archives: May 2011

Who is “I Am”?

I am weak, unable to speak

I call you by name…

Healer, Mender, Life-Contender.

  • There when I need you
  • There when I call
Listener, Lover, Holding me over.
  • I reach for your hand
  • You are holding mine.
Leader, Guide, Seeing Eyes.
  • You go before me
  • Shining the light.
Strongman, Partner, Comfort, Companion.
  • There beside me
  • There before me
  • There behind me
  • All around me
You are
I am Yours
He must become greater. I must become less.  John 3:30
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Needy? No…Served

I’m at a luncheon with ladies in my small group. We have heard an amazing testimony of God in the midst of dire hardship and a life preserved.

We are seated at tables and invited to help ourselves to the salad buffet provided. This is something I can’t do. A young woman offers to fix a plate for me. What would I like? “Surprise me,” I say. She has already given me the nourishment I need. She has provided the assistance I need by offering.

Watching this, the woman seated next to me who knows me well asks, “How does it feel to be totally dependent on others.”

I don’t feel dependent. So many kindly offer help. I feel served. I feel loved. Dependency is something we feel when someone withholds something from us. In this time, there is much I can’t do, but nothing is being withheld. I’m not sure I’ve ever had so many people rooting for me and standing by with what I need.

How can I feel needy?

Yielded Part 2

Driving with my brace I cannot sit upright. I am tipped back against my seat, arms extended fully to reach the steering wheel. I cannot perch on the edge of my seat. This has an interesting effect. I am not ready to pounce, to sprint into an opening in traffic. Not readied to take advantage of a slower vehicle. Not anticipating the light changing and the need to accelerate through the intersection before yellow turns red. Quick accelerations or changes of position are out of the question. I am happy to stay in my lane rather than jockey for a more desirable place in line.

I wonder…what if I adopted this position, this posture in all my circumstances? Ready to listen, rather than confront. Invested in hearing the other out rather than departure the moment I have the opportunity. All because my body is settled in rather than tipped forward.

Yielded

I am driving to the mall. Overly slow compared to the traffic. People pass me. They’re probably outraged that I am only doing 45 in a 40. Soon there will be editorials about that outrageously slow woman driver in Herndon.

  • I yield to the driver in the right hand lane to go ahead so I can move over.
  • I yield to the merging traffic when exiting in the deceleration lane onto the cloverleaf even though I have the right of way. They are not looking at me and barrel ahead.
  • I yield to the traffic on the highway, even though I am running out of acceleration lane. They zip past.
  • I yield to the traffic now entering the highway because I want to exit to the mall. They are picking up speed because they have somewhere to go. The mall will still be there when I get there.
  • I would yield to the mall traffic at the stop except the law says they have to yield to me.

Yielded. That is what I am these days. Not just taking my time. It is not important for me to go fast or be first. And when you’re yielded, it’s amazing how angry, hostile and anxious the rest of the traffic looks. Tailgating. Diving from behind you to go around you. I pray they don’t clip my bumper on the way by. I wonder if this is how I look on days I am late.

I am allowing extra time these days because I am so slow. Why don’t I do this usually? I squeeze something into every minute and then some. Do I really get more done? I take more time than needs taking and then run late for the next thing. I want to hold onto this feeling, this practice of yielding. When I get through this I hope I won’t be who I was.

Life answers me. Two of my daughters have a significant conflict. Scot is gone. They come pleading to me. I would like to sit idly by, a peaceful presence in the midst of conflict. But this will not pass without action. We can’t yield to life and life’s circumstances. I can’t forever step aside and say, “I’ll just be godly while you have your difficulty.” When action must be taken I have to act. How can we be Yielded to God but stand also in life?

Ruptured not Raptured

May 21st was supposed to be judgment day according to a guy in LA. That was Saturday, but it’s Monday and we all still seem to be here. Now, the Bible does tell us we won’t know the day or the hour, but it was just a little bit tempting to wonder – given the mess the world has been lately.

And, even though we are supposed to be taken up into the clouds (I think – at least Jesus is supposed to appear in the way He left. I may be reading into this how we are supposed to make our exit.), I keep thinking about that Apocalypse movie where the Earth started imploding. They had arcs built to save select people. I am looking at this brace and thinking if I have to outrace someone for my spot on that ship, there’s not any way.

I type an email to family. My PS is: if you’re reading this I guess you weren’t raptured. My spell check doesn’t like raptured. It chooses what it thinks I mean. “ruptured.” Aha! That’s what this is all about!

My Story – Live or on the Big Screen?

My scar sears when I sit. Sometimes when I stand, or, for no reason at all. It’s my Harry Potter moment. Voldemort must be near. Thanks for the warning!

****

Walking (crutching) to Crosen Ct. Neighbors stop and back up to see what’s up with me. “You okay?” they ask.

There is something comforting about people stopping to ask. Perhaps it’s because I figure that the ones who don’t stop are drawing their own conclusions. The ones who do want to know my story.

***

Called Miyamoto’s office today to schedule my 6 week post op follow up. “He’s not in the office’ that Monday, June 6th. But he can see you on Thursday, June 9th. Of course! My birthday. The big 5-0. Now I can start parole and menopause at the same time. Injury PLUS insult.

***

Speaking of…Rosy got her haircut. 6 hours at grooming. Poor thing. She is nervous. Can’t stand for long. It must have taken Shannon, the groomer, a long time. Lots of breaks. Ros comes home exhausted. So wobbly. Spindly legs and no hips. But now I can see them, sans fluff. Two peas in a pod, Ro and me.

Amazing how many things I see don’t just remind me of, but I feel them in my hip. Take me back to the moment of injury. Send me to that unfortunate slip possibility. My face winces inadvertently.

***I have started daily blogging to this site on this date so this is the last of the retro-written posts.***

Judgment Day…not

Mr. Comings, the man who predicted Judgment Day, has gone into hiding. His website is gone. Many banked on his prediction. Sold homes (sold?! What were you gonna do with that money?) Arranged care for the to-be-left-behind pets. (arranged this with “certified atheists.” I’m not sure I would trust my beloved pets to people willing to certify this.)

Why were people so willing to entertain the notions this man had?

It is comforting to be able to think that at the end of the day we can leave the messy-ness of this world behind. Solve the problems we have by leaving them behind. Our God is not a God of the easy way out. Mr. Comings is a man with a coat hangar people wanted to hang in their closet. (per Tom Berlin’s analogy, wishing everything was off the floor and neatly hanging) We wish it was so easy.

He got people thinking about whether they were ready for the “what’s next.” He was sincere and sincerely wrong. Our human calculations just won’t limit God. Since scripture teaches that ‘no one knows the day or time,’ not even I, Jesus said. I guess that pretty much can keep us from believing any one who says they know. Including Messiah pretenders.. Their saying so makes them a pretender.

But the day will come. Yesterday was just a taste of what really living your last day might be like. If I had to race for the boats as they were shoving off, I would have been left behind. How would Jesus give us our last invitation? Why not faecebook (friend request), IM (hey, you on?), email (you’ve got mail), loud speaker (announcing!), blow horn (everyone come this way), thundering declaration from the clouds (you are my daughter with whom I am well pleased).

Either that, or we all missed it.

Early in the morning my computer wouldn’t go online. Made me wonder…if each of us was isolated by a communication glitch, each would stand alone before God and not know any others were. Frankly, I was glad my family was together at 6pm and again at 9pm yesterday. If I am raptured:

  • I want to go together or
  • If some are left behind I want them to know the truth. They would know what stands between them and me. And that would be all the proof they would need.
  • We would then be united in the end, which would be the beginning of the chapters to come.

Lord of Life, lead us on. Until you have shaped us for heaven’s doorway. Christ, the key, has been turned. Let us be made ready. Amen.

First Solo Drive

Today, I do my first solo drive since the injury. To church. While it was necessary to be getting a ride until now (and good stewardship of gas and parking spaces) I do appreciate the freedom to choose the service to attend. To change plans at the last minute because Olivia wanted to.

Pull into the handicapped parking space. I make Olivia put the permit in the window. It reads ‘temporary parking permit.’ I allow myself to imagine for a minute that it might actually come true. (post this to facebook and Pauline responds, “Roadtrip!!!” 🙂  I hope not to need the thing by the end of July. Others with ailments are not so lucky. They have to discover a ‘new normal.’ I hope actually to get back to normal.

Tim Ward, in prayer time, keeps referring to having “walked in here.” I am excluded? Okay – feeling a bit sensitive about this.

I miss being able to cross my legs.

I wonder about kneeling after communion.

I am standing on two feet. A long way toward balance.

***

Crosen Court seems a long way off. But I enjoy making the trek. Exercise is exercise.

Happy Apocalypse Day

May 21st. Stephanie’s birthday. Jodi says, figures you would be born on the day the world ends.

While no one knows the day of the hour, who knows who speaks for God in these days. A man (Mr. Comings) has predicted the day is today. It makes me sad, the cavalier – ah yeah. the world might end. Haha. We are promised Christ will return.

“He made known to us the mystery of His will according to his good pleasure, which he purposed in Christ, to be put into effect when the times have reached their fulfillment – to bring all things in heaven and on earth together under one head, even Christ.” Eph 1:9-10.

Kingdom come. Heaven and earth together. What will this look like? I don’t see crashing and death as it is advertised in the movies. I’m sure I can’t even imagine.

Still, this makes one wonder. What if Jesus sent friend requests to everyone on facebook.

  • Those who ignored, He would send another request.
  • Those who clicked accept, He would write their names in the book of life.
  • Those who denied, clicked “block requests from this sender”…I feel like there may be many in this category, but I can’t know and these conversations would be only between the two of them, would be lost forever.

Today is a day that demands this question be asked.

as the Tortoise

Nikki and Ty Buermyer take me to lunch at Silver Diner. So much fun to be out, with friends. I cannot drive myself.

She had questions about kids and embarrassment, about running injuries and potential injuries, her nephews Severs, growing pains that are really overuse injuries, how she and her friend can continue running together even though their pace is disparate. she says, “That’s so helpful…makes so much sense.” It’s nice to feel useful.

The rest of the time is about being slowed. Practicing “walking correctly” – bearing 50% weight – is much slower than the swinging non-weight bearing that I had about perfected. This is not an efficient way to get around. But, I’m building strength. Guess it’s worth the assessment. Where would I go in a hurry anyway?

***

  • Still, it’s mission impossible in the kitchen. I strategically slide my plate, my coffee, along the corners of the counter to get from counter to table.
  • Entropy is escalating as I don’t collect the leavings. (we need to engage in the entropy reduction program…on-going)
  • In my ‘can’t’ – people say, “I wish I ‘couldn’t’ do housework. They mean they wish they didn’t have to (or weren’t expected to). they could choose not to. But expectations incline them.
  • I still can’t quite sit up to reach the table. Salad is risky.
  • Edie sees me “walking” and says they’ll call me Mercury – because of the speed of my pace. Crosen Court seems a long way to go.

I am standing on two feet. I have a long way to go toward balance.