Good Medicine: Joy, Gratitude, and Sisters

I am posting this at 2:41 a.m. after another horrible immune reaction, this time to tea tree oil. That is a crazy, crazy story, and I promise to tell it tomorrow. It involves a new friend named Courtney. I'm going to be just fine, but if I'm going to be awake with tachycardia again, I might as well use my time for a good purpose. I've been praising Jesus and listening to scripture meditations on Youtube for a couple of hours, but my heart rate is still too fast to sleep. 

I was tempted to clean up this entry a bit because I wrote it during brain fog this afternoon, from something I ate; have to figure that out if possible. It took me about 3 hours to write because I knew it was all in the wrong order. Ana can tell us if I got it right.  But I don't want to clean it up because I want you to see my progress. It doesn't matter whether this is my best writing or not.


I had just finished my last blog entry and was making myself a smoothie (banana, a bit of plum--new today, so low and slow--, yogurt, honey, turmeric drop, iceberg lettuce, cantaloupe), when I saw a woman coming to the door. I ignored her, figuring this was another of the many deliveries of unusual food items and kitchen gadgets that arrive by the day.

When I answered the doorbell, I was shocked to find my sweet neighbor, Ana, with a bouquet of pink roses.

This morning I'd had another of my panic attacks, brought on by immune reactions to my food, and after I'd meditated on half the scriptures on my kitchen sticky note collection, God had directed me to go outside.

2 Timothy 1:7, Isaiah 12:2-3, Romans 8:15, Psalm 23:4, Matthew 11:28, Romans 5:2-5, Psalm 23:2-3, Genesis 21:6, Joyce Meyer quote, Romans 8:24-25, Habakkuk 1:5 

 

 

Outdoors, I breathed deeply in the warm morning air and feasted my eyes on the mature trees in my neighborhood.

"I am like a tree planted by the water," I prayed aloud. "My roots go down deep to the life-giving water. You are the water. The water of life."

I felt the wind and saw it moving the leaves in the tree.

"The wind is like your Holy Spirit,"  I said. "No one knows where it comes from or where it is going, but we know that it is there. I have your Holy Spirit inside of me, carrying me wherever you want me to go..... I am Dust in the Wind. You are the wind."

I felt my breathing slowing down, though the headache that had brought the panic continued to throb in the back of my head. Something I had eaten, surely. But what? I focused myself on my breathing, the green leaves, and the wind.

Just then, I saw Ana getting into her truck, dressed in cute gym clothes. I called out to her and then just ran across the street.

"A hug," I said. "I need a hug." I'd been at her house the night before, so she knew about my panic attacks when I get autoimmune symptoms.

She wrapped me in a tight hug and held me.

"It's medicine," I whispered into her hair as tears streamed down my face. "Your hug is medicine."

"Yes, it is," she said.

I told her about how God had told me to come outside while I was meditating on my scriptures like I usually do for anxiety.

"Yes, you need to go outside," she said. "The sun on your skin, the vitamin D. You need that."

"Yes, I do!" I said. "I can read my Bible outside. That's what I was about to do."

"Yes. Get a chair and bring it outside. Do your reading out here. Sit in the shade, though."

"I will," I promised. And I did. I had the most amazing quiet time in.... ever, I guess. God really spoke to me and did a great work in my heart. But I will share that another time.

Back to the Doorbell and Sweet Ana

"Oh, Ana!" I exclaimed as I threw my arms around her.

"Be careful. There are thorns," she warned.

I carefully took the little bouquet and breathed deeply. "This is aromatherapy," I said.

"Yes, it is!"

"And it reminds me of how much you love me and how much God loves me."

"I just want you to be happy," Ana said.

"Oh, I am. I am. I am so happy right now."

She hugged me again and laughed aloud. "You've got to focus on being happy so you can get better."

"Yes, but it's hard," I said. "I focus to much on this..." I pointed at all the food strewn around my kitchen. "But I have to. I can't eat the things that make me sick. I've been so isolated here," I said. "I do need to focus on things that make me happy."

"Yes!"

"You have to remind me," I said. "I can't remember things right now. When you're at work you can send me texts."

"I will," she said. "You have to do little things for yourself to make yourself happy."

I sniffed the roses again.

"You can put them in your room so Arwen won't eat them."

"Oh, that's right. I forgot about that. Arwen ate Juan's roses, remember?"

She laughed. "Yes, she did."

"I'll keep them in my room, and I can look at them and smell them there."

"You need to focus on being grateful," Ana added.

"Oh, I am. That's what my dietitian suggested. I've been making a gratitude list at bedtime every day. That's why I sleep so well. Last night I had the best sleep in years. Eight hours in a row!! You're going to be on the top of my list today."

"Yes, you need to focus on being happy and grateful."

"Not just at night, but at the start of the day, too," I interjected.

"And whenever you feel sad," Ana agreed. "Focus on being happy and grateful. My mom used to pray and thank God every day. I don't know how to pray, but I-"

"You know how to pray," I said. "God loves us so much. All you do is talk to him."

"Focus on being grateful," she repeated.

"I will," I promised, making a mental note to add a gratitude list to my morning routine and hoping that I would not forget that.

"Hey, can we pose for a selfie?" I asked. "This is going to be in my book for sure," I said.

"Oh, I don't know. I'm all sweaty from the gym."

"All of my selfies are ugly, trust me," I said. "You're going to look beautiful next to me."

"Okay," she said.

"Can you help me find my phone?" I asked. "It's part of this Hashimoto's thing [the brain fog]. I lose everything. Constantly. It drives me crazy."

We both scoured the kitchen to no avail.

"Did you bring your phone?"

"No, I didn't."

I thought back to my last blog entry and how I had emailed the photos from my phone while I was on the toilet. (Yes, I use my phone on the toilet. So do you. You just don't admit it.)

"Oh, I think it's in the bathroom," I said. Sure enough, there it was next to the sink. (Yes, I washed my hands. Of course!)

I then proceeded to take an ugly selfie of us both. [Out of respect for Ana, I am withholding that photo. You're welcome, dearest.]

"I can't see it," Ana said; I think she uses readers.

"You look great," I lied.

"I take selfies all the time now for my book, but I don't know how to do it," I said. "Selfies help me remember things, so it's great.... If Allyson were here she would know how."

"Let me try," she said. "I think people usually hold the phone out farther like this." She extended her arm high above us.

Her picture was a little better. She looked gorgeous but my nose still looked gargantuan. I guess that's because it really is gargantuan. Anyway, I hope you can see our joy.

That's Ana on the right. Aren't the flowers lovely? Like Ana.

I told her about a short message from Levi Lusko that I had just heard on the radio, right before she knocked.

"It was a message for me," I said. "Really specifically for me. It was about how when we lose so much, God always gives us something better."

"Yes, when you go through a hard time you can really appreciate the good things more," she said.

"That is true. And God loves us so much. He gave me you as a heart sister."

Ana hugged me again, squeezing me tighter.

"I love you, Sarah," she said, and she held me while I cried.

"God gave me you as a sister. Also, he gave me an Egyptian tax driver for a brother, a new Christian."

"Really?"

"Yes, and a Christian Uber driver from Rwanda [Africa]."

"Really?"

"Yes. The Egyptian man asked if he could hug me because I am his sister. And he did. He held me while I cried." Also he prayed for me, but I forgot to tell her that part.

"And the African man prayed for me in his car. He has only been in Texas for one month, and he barely speaks English."

"Really?"

"Well he's been in America for 8 years but he just moved to Texas a month ago. They are both my brothers."

"Wow!"

"So you see that even though I have lost so much in this battle with Hashimoto's, God is giving me new stuff, better stuff."

"Yes, he is! I love you so much, Sarah."

"Me too, sister."

"You look really beautiful in the selfie," I said when she was on the way out my door.

She grinned. "You think?"

"Oh yes, everyone who sees you always says you're gorgeous."

"They do?"

"Yes, like my roommate Kim." I gestured behind me to her bedroom. "The first time she saw you she sent me a text saying that you were so gorgeous."

Ana flushed with pleasure.

"It's true," I said.

"Stay in touch," Ana said. "And do things to make yourself happy."

I will. Oh, I will.

My life is like these roses. The thorns make the beauty all the sweeter when God gives me eyes to focus on it. I could barely see them through my happy tears.

I'm Leaving It By the Side of the Road

I really shouldn't be blogging tonight. I need to get in bed. But I'm just bursting, and I want to share my heart with you before I know the outcome....

Tomorrow is my very first substitute teaching assignment, with a middle school English class. (I plan to sub about once a week until I run out of vacation time.) I've been putting together a Total Participation Techniques kit with all kinds of supplies to help me create interactivity in the event that I actually get to do some teaching (as opposed to babysitting). I made little whiteboards with heavy-duty transparency sleeves and white card stock, and I picked out some fun mismatched socks to use as erasers. I bought three dozen sticky note pads for annotating in books. I'm making True/Not True hold-up cards, as well as "True with modifications" and "Unable to determine." I've been thinking about ways to incorporate motion and plenty of academic conversation. 

Just yesterday I was marveling that I felt more excited than afraid. In fact, I told myself I'd better curb the enthusiasm just a notch so that I wouldn't be crushed by a reality that doesn't live up to my idealistic notions--which always happens to me. 

I guess I took my own advice.

Last night I was listening to a recorded sermon from my new church, on giving God the first of everything. Pastor Hayes told the story of the Israelites' humiliating defeat at Ai after they had conquered Jericho so triumphantly (Joshua 7). After tearing his clothes and falling on his face before God, the Israelite leader Joshua said, "Alas, O Lord God, why have you brought this people over the Jordan at all, to give us into the hands of the Amorites, to destroy us? Would that we had been content to dwell beyond the Jordan!"

Pastor Hayes then asked if we had ever felt that way when we encountered a challenge or a disappointment. Did we ever just want to turn back from the battle and go back where we were comfortable? 

"Yes, oh yes," I thought, with a stab of fear. Right at that moment, I thought about my comfortable, predictable, safe life--my sometimes boring, always busy life. I wondered what had possessed me to think of venturing out into the unknown. Weren't there other ways I could serve God besides putting myself at the mercy of 25 adolescents? 

The moment the sermon was over, I went straight to my prayer closet and fell on my face before God, though I abstained from tearing my clothes like Joshua. I don't even remember much of what I prayed because I was so tired. I did ask God to help me put him first, and to hold nothing back from him. And then I asked him to hold me close while I fell asleep. He did. I had the most beautiful sleep!

But today fear was crouching at the door, and I let it in. All day long, my stomach churned with unease. I was starting to regret accepting seven jobs, booking myself into November. 

I kept telling myself there was no rational reason to be afraid. Yes, I could fail. I could fall flat on my face. And then I would get back up again and ask God for help. I knew all this with my mind, but my fear continued to build in my heart as the hours passed. 

Thankfully, tonight was Celebrate Recovery. The whole meeting was such an encouragement. The last worship song had me in tears: Hillsong's All I Need is You. Listen to the first line:

Left my fear by the side of the road...

"Why can't I do that?" I thought.

And then we came to:

You hold the universe
You hold everyone on earth
You hold the universe
You hold
You hold

I swayed to the music, feeling that gentle power wrapping around me. How could I fear, knowing God is in control? If he can hold this universe that He made together, of course He can hold me.

Still, I could feel the fear in my upset stomach. Now I was only 12 hours away from stepping off the ledge. I confessed to my CR family that I very much want to leave my fear by the side of the road, but the truth is, I'm still afraid. "But I'm going to do it anyway," I said firmly, despite my trembling lips. "I know that God will be with me, and I trust that next week I will share a testimony of God's goodness with you."

With my small group afterward, I poured out my heart. "I don't know why I'm so inordinately afraid," I said. "But I believe I am going to leave my fear by the side of the road. I'm tired of letting my fear hold me back. I'm tired of dragging these chains around. I'm afraid of failing, but I'd rather chance falling flat on my face than to stay where it's comfortable and miss what God is calling me to do."

Tears streamed down my face as I realized that it was true. I am more afraid of missing my calling than I am of failing.

After everyone had shared, my dear sisters held hands with me as we prayed for all of our needs, and then we enjoyed a group hug. They assured me that they know I will be a blessing to my students, including the ones God has picked out for me tomorrow. They said they are excited to hear what God will do.

On the drive home, I whispered to God that I am ready to go with Him. I trust Him, and I want to see what He has planned for me. I know I have to leave my comfortable place to get there.

One of these days, I really am going to leave my fear by the side of the road. In the meantime, I'm going to trust Jesus to help me face it every time it rears up. As I read in a novel just the other day, I know that being brave doesn't mean you don't have any fear. It means you feel afraid about something, but you do it anyway. Tonight, I'm feeling brave.

This is me being brave, poised on the edge.
I'm going to jump!

I Press On

At 10:40 AM this past Sunday, just one hour and 40 minutes behind schedule, Allyson and I took off on a short vacation to the Texas Hill Country, bound for what we call The Donkey Cabin. We'd stayed in that charming 1840s log cabin exactly two years before on a trip with Ethan and my niece Savannah, and we couldn't get wait to get back there.

Around 2:00, we met up with Allyson's friend Kambry, who'd been on a vacation with her aunt and uncle just 48 minutes from our destination. I took those giddy girls straight to Longhorn Caverns State Park.

When we turned onto the six-mile park road, I was shocked to see a sign for Inks Lake. "Hey, Allyson!" I said. "Remember that lake where we jumped off the cliff into the water that time?"

"Yeah!"

"This is the same road that leads there. What was that? Three years ago? Yes, it was the same trip when we found out we'd gotten the contract on our dream house, right before we watched the fireworks. Wasn't that the best day ever?"

"Yes, it was! Can we go back to Inks Lake?"

"We'll see," I said. "I thought you wanted to go to McKinney Falls this time."

He's Already There

I've continued to pursue the dream God brought back to life in my heart, to become a public school teacher again. What a ride it has been so far! At first I was very afraid of the challenges, but then I threw myself into research, online classes, and classroom observation. The more I discover about the latest research on learning, the more excited I am to try those strategies out for myself.

In fact, for a time I was so excited that I couldn't think about anything but teaching, even when I should have been sleeping. For several nights in a row, I lay in bed utterly exhausted but too keyed up to sleep because I couldn't stop thinking of things I might try, books we might read, things I wanted to say to my students. Even as I pleaded for sleep, I thanked God for putting such a passion in my heart.

At other times, though, my fear has taken the upper hand. One example was the first time I observed Mrs. I. at the middle school just around the corner. It was such a blessing to be there. All I had to do was email the principal and ask if he had an English teacher who wouldn't mind a visitor, one he thought a returning teacher would want to emulate.

Desires of My Heart

The stack of untold stories in my brain is getting so tall it's about to topple, but as always, I only have time for one. So I'm going to share the story that is burning in my heart....

My pastor has a saying that kind of makes me shiver: "All of us are always in one of three phases. We're either in the middle of a trial, coming out of a trial, or about to go back into a trial."

When I was in the middle of my very painful divorce, that saying brought me comfort. I knew the trial had to come to an end eventually. And I knew that I was learning valuable lessons in trusting God that couldn't be learned any other way.

But now that life seems sweeter than ever before, I've started to wonder about the next trial. What will it be? How long can this calm last? What if my life is torn in two again?

At the same time, I've felt wistful about the amazing closeness I developed with God during the worst of my trials. When life is going smoothly, it's a sad fact that I get busy and distracted, and sometimes I forget to commune with my Beloved. Oh, He's always there, and I talk to Him, but somehow it's not quite as sweet as all those times when I cried my heart out with Him in my prayer closet.

That doesn't mean God isn't working on me. Oh no. Over the last few weeks, He's been doing something utterly miraculous in my heart. But I'm getting ahead of myself. Best start at the beginning.

Hang Onto the Raft!

In my last entry, I told you that I've been longing to be free of my need to control everything. If only I could just make a list of necessary actions and check off each step! But the list is the problem. I keep trying harder and harder to let go, but of course it doesn't work that way. All attempts at perfecting myself only leave me hopelessly frustrated, utterly worn out.

I've been praying about this for months, and God has given me an assurance that He is working on me. In the good moments, I've felt not only peace, but exhilaration at the idea of being free. First, I pictured myself clinging to the edge of a cliff, knuckles white, clawing in desperation as I lost my grip. Deliberately, I imagined peeling my fingers loose and letting myself fall, fall... only to be borne up by a gentle wind current. I imagined myself floating peacefully on the breeze like a flying squirrel, or even soaring like an eagle.

Well, that's not exactly what God had in mind. On a walk in the park a few weeks back, He gave me a different analogy. In my favorite part of the park, I recalled something I'd read in a devotional about being caught in the current of God's Spirit. At the time, I'd found great comfort in the idea of leaving my plans behind and floating down God's river to some beautiful destination.

I paused next to the dry stream bed which only a few weeks earlier had been swollen with rain. "God, I trust you," I prayed. "I want to relax and let your current take me wherever you want me to go." I thought about the agonizing anxiety that I'd been battling for weeks. A couple of tears trickled down my cheeks. "Even here, God. Even here."

It Surpasses Knowledge

I'm sorry I've been so quiet lately. I'm just so busy. There never seems to be a free moment, or enough energy. I had at least two other stories lined up in my head that I wanted to share, but they just got bumped....


Are you ever just going along, minding your own business, feeling happy and well-adjusted, and suddenly you're blindsided by a blow that knocks your feet out from under you before you even see it coming? That's what happened to me this evening.


To say I was feeling well-adjusted to start with could be a little inaccurate. Actually, I'd felt a bit unsettled all day. Allyson and I saw God's Not Dead last night, and (ironically) all those questions of science and creation and evolution and the Big Bang stirred up some doubts that I've struggled with for years. I agreed with the young protagonist that the only logical explanation for a Big Bang that created all matter in a flash of light would be that God spoke the universe into being, starting the work of creation with the command, "Let there be light" (Genesis 1:3). Still, I was troubled with the idea of so many brilliant minds disagreeing, and of so many religions with other people just as ardently believing something different. What if, just what if, I could be wrong about God?


I'm used to it now, this tug-of-war between doubt and faith. I used to think, each time God did something incredibly wonderful and inexplicable and tender for me, that surely I would never doubt again. But the doubts always come back. And they always shake me at my core. My faith is not something I do on Sundays; it's the very center of my being. So doubting my faith makes me wonder who I am and what this life is all about. It makes me feel, in a word, crazy.


I knelt in my prayer closet last night and talked to God about it, but I was just too sleepy to have a meaningful conversation with anyone. So this morning, I prayed about it again. "Lord, I'm so tired of these doubts. Please, help my unbelief." But I was still sleepy despite a full night's rest, and there was no time to really talk it over. So I pushed those thoughts away and started my work day.


So, back to the unexpected blow....


At the kitchen table over the last few bites of dinner, Allyson and I were enjoying a chapter of our latest book before Bill came for her. Monday's usually his day, but he'd been at the Rangers' opening (baseball) game, and I'd been savoring those few extra hours with her after school. The faint sense of unease following me all day had receded, and I felt... perfectly well-adjusted and content.


In the middle of a chapter, Allyson left the table, muttering something about being right back. I nodded absently and finished off the last of my vegetarian shepherd's pie (which, remarkably, Allyson loves).


When she still hadn't returned a few minutes later, I hollered for her. "Come on! Let's finish this chapter before Daddy gets here." I carried my dishes to the sink before hollering again. Still no response.


I headed for her room. "Did you put your socks on like I asked?"


Her room was empty.


I checked both bathrooms, hollering for her all the while. Empty.


In a moment, I was back to that day in September when I tore up the house looking for a naughty cat. My voice shrill, I yelled, "Come OUT, Allyson. This isn't funny.... WHERE ARE YOU?"


I yanked open the linen closet door, ripped open the shower curtain, fell to my knees and looked under my bed.


I could hear the desperation in my voice as I cried, "Allyson, come out immediately!"


Reality sank in: This is a little house. Allyson is bigger than a kitten. She really isn't here. A scream rose in my throat and tears squeezed from the corners of my eyes. "ALLY-SUNNN! ALLY-SUNNN!"


Part of me was afraid that someone had somehow snatched my daughter from inside my house, but even in my panic, that didn't make sense. I hadn't heard any doors open, hadn't seen or heard a hint of an intruder. So where was she?


Now this next part is embarrassing, but I'm going to admit it....


My thoughts went where they used to go when I was a little girl and I couldn't find my sisters or my parents. What if Jesus had come back for his church, and I'd been left behind? I shook away that thought. No, if I'm still here when Jesus comes back, I know I'm going.


But where was she?


I ran into the garage and screamed, "Allyson!"


At last, I heard a faint response that I couldn't make out. It sounded like it was coming from the front yard.


I raced out the front door just as Bill pulled up in front of the house. And there was Allyson, sitting on the brick communal mailbox and waving at Daddy.


I swallowed my tears and started scolding. "Oh, Allyson! You scared me. You can never go outside without asking me."


"But I did tell you. I said I'd be right back."


"I had no idea you'd gone outside. I thought you were in the bathroom. Didn't you hear me screaming?"


Bill scolded her too. I kissed her, and then she was gone. And I was left alone with my swirling fears and my giddy relief.


Now that I think of it, I realize I felt the same way the time Allyson almost suffocated herself. And if I'd been able to pull my big girl onto my lap and snuggle her like I'd done that other time, I think I would have been okay. Instead, I plodded to the sink and started on the dishes with trembling hands and a throat raw from screaming.


What's wrong with me? I thought. Why did I panic like that? Why didn't I think to check outside? Why didn't I think to pray?


I looked out the window at Allyson's friend Ellie on her bike and remembered my bike ride in the park this morning. What I needed was a walk.


I stacked several more dishes in the dishwasher.


I need a walk with Jesus in the park.


I filled a bowl with water. Yes, after I finish the dishes.


No, now. I need to go now.


So I tore myself away from my dirty kitchen and pulled on my Five Finger shoes. Out on the street, I waved to Ellie and her mom and crossed the street to the park.


As soon as I was alone, I started whispering to God. "Something's not right with me. Why did I have that thought about being left behind?" Tears slipped down my cheeks as I smiled and nodded to a passing cyclist. "God, do I really believe that? That you would leave me?"


I will never leave you or forsake you. (Hebrews 13:5)


"Why am I afraid?"


I whirled to look behind me as a car sped past. Heart thudding, I remembered how it had felt to be chased through the darkness by a strange man, and how I'd been afraid to walk alone after that for months. Part of me wanted to go back home, but it was too beautiful outside. Besides, I wasn't alone. I was surrounded by people walking dogs and jogging and riding bicycles and corralling children. "And You are with me," I whispered.


I walked slowly, taking in the budding trees and the green grass and the last golden rays peeking through the branches. I listened to the birds singing and the squirrels scrabbling in the underbrush. One of them ran right in front of my feet, and I shared smile with a man coming the other way down the wide path.


"Quiet me with your love," I whispered. "Hem me in, behind and before. Keep your hand upon me."


In my favorite section of the park, where the path loops around under heavy green branches, and you can hear only the wind and the trickling brook and occasional muted traffic sounds, I sighed deeply. "Look at all this beauty you made for us," I said. "The heavens and the earth declare your glory. So why, why do I doubt? I'm never going to be free of this, am I?"


I remembered the words of a visiting pastor yesterday about how to pray in temptation: "Jesus, help me or I'm going to do this."


"Jesus, help me or I'm going to doubt," I said. "Please, don't let the devil steal the joy of my salvation from me. Don't let him take my peace."


I didn't hear any Words from God, but He did quiet me. I saw all those happy people, heard the happier birds, felt the light breeze raise goose bumps on my arms. I drank in the green leaves and the long, swaying grass. And all was right with the world again.


I'm glad this happened tonight. I needed to know about these deep fears, that I will lose my children, that I will lose my faith, that I will be all alone. I'm glad I know God's perfect love casts out fear (1 John 4:18).


I suspect that I will always grapple with doubts, and that's okay. God understands, and He loves me just as I am. I found something encouraging tonight when I was searching (unsuccessfully) for a C.S. Lewis quote on doubts:

Any faith system that gives a "neat" answer to such complex situations is going to be too simplistic for an intelligent hurting person to believe. In the midst of that kind of pain and complexity, faith is going to largely come down to trust in a Person. Those who hold to their faith in the midst of hardship most often do so out of relationship more than rationality.

This actually echoes my prayers in the park tonight, for the love that surpasses knowledge (Ephesians 3:19). When I'm tangled in doubt, I can't figure it all out.  The reality of God surpasses my knowledge. I can only know Him and experience His love through the Holy Spirit in me, who causes Christ to dwell in my heart through faith and gives me power to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ.


That love is what I can know, what I do know. He's proven it to me so many times. And He will continue proving His love even when I doubt. Because that's the kind of God I serve.

This IS the Good Part!

I know I ended my last entry on a positive note, but I was back down the very next day, maybe even lower. We saw three houses, including a second look at the one Ethan loved with the upstairs man cave. As Allyson and Ethan walked through the house, they both exclaimed over every room. Ethan praised the granite countertops and even the kitchen faucet!

My friend Gentle agreed that this was a great house. Despite my lackluster response on the first visit, I found myself swept along by their enthusiasm. The master bedroom really was very pretty, and the bedroom Allyson didn't want would make a great office and spare room. Maybe it didn't matter so much that there was very little countertop space, granite notwithstanding. Or that the washer and dryer were in the (sweltering) garage.

So when Kim suggested making an offer, and quickly, I said, "Maybe I will. This is a definite... maybe." We lingered for several more minutes, and then she said, "Have you come to a decision?"

I opened my mouth to say yes, but I couldn't form the words. My heart constricted with fear. What if this wasn't the right house? Or what if it was, and I let it slip away? I was afraid to say yes and terrified of saying no. So I just burst into tears, resting my head against the wall and clutching it with both hands.

"This is so hard," I sobbed.

"I know it is," Kim said, folding me in her arms.

"I don't know what to do," I sniffled. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay. You've been through a lot. Buying a house can be very emotional."

I finally told her and the kids that I would pray about it, sleep on it, and make a decision in the morning.

But even the thought of praying about it stressed me out. How could I know what God was telling me when I'd heard Him wrong the last time? I wondered about all the other times I thought God had spoken to me. Maybe I'd been wrong those times too. Maybe all of it had been my imagination. I wanted to believe God was with me, yet I felt like I'd have to make this decision all on my own.

I told the whole story to my Celebrate Recovery group last night, tears streaming down. They cried with me. And then they assured me that God was with me and would never abandon me. I said I still felt sure that God had led me to make the offer on the other house, and that I just couldn't understand why I was going through this.

One of my friends gently asked a question that convicted me deeply. "Could it be that God is testing you so you can learn to trust Him and be obedient when things don't go the way you want them to?"

"But what about the flowers?" I asked. "You don't know what those flowers meant to me."

"Sarah, we'll all come over and help you plant your own oleander bush at your new house."

"It can be the symbol of your family's new life. It will mean more because you planted it with your own hands."

"We'll plant it right outside the window so you can see it when you're working."

I smiled through my tears. Yes, why not? I've loved oleander bushes for years, and it never used to matter which house they belonged to.

Although it was past midnight when I finally had a moment to pray, I went eagerly to my closet and fell to my knees. "Oh, God," I cried. "I'm so exhausted. I don't even want to think about the house. I don't want to ask for direction. I just want to be with you. Please be near me.... Oh, you are near me. You are Emmanuel, God with us."

I wanted to praise Him, but I was too tired to think of the words. Instead, I sang an old hymn that came to my mind. "They that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength. They shall mount up with wings as eagles.... Teach me Lord, teach me Lord, to wait."

I crawled into bed feeling perfectly peaceful and slept soundly. But my first waking thought was of that house. What if I bought a kitchen island, the kind with cabinets and working space and a couple of barstools? How much would that cost? Maybe I could make that kitchen work after all. I'd also need an area rug to cover all that ceramic tile, and maybe a flat screen TV...

I threw my legs over the side of the bed. Ugh. I'd been awake two minutes and I was already trying to figure out the plan all on my own. "Good morning, God," I said sheepishly. "I really want to spend time with you."

I sat at the kitchen table and started to flip to the next day in my current Bible study, Discerning the Voice of God, by Priscilla Shirer. But I didn't make it that far because my eyes fell on a prominent caption in a lesson for next week: NO NEED TO HURRY.

I eagerly read the paragraphs above and below the caption, which were conveniently underlined from the time when I did this study a year and a half ago. I had underlined:

When we feel rushed and hurried to make a decision not rooted in a deep confidence of inner peace, God probably has not spoken.... If you feel an overwhelming urge to act spontaneously, pull in the reins.... If you do not feel assurance in a decision, then wait.

And today I also noticed:

The Thief's voice, unlike God's voice, threatens and intimidates on the basis of fear: If you don't do this, you'll be sorry.... Do this now! If you wait, all will be lost! (Jan Johnson, When the Soul Listens)

My heart pounded. There in black and white on the page were the very thoughts that had been swirling in my head for the last few days!

Here was my answer, the same one I've become so familiar with lately: "Wait."

I thought about the message I'd received from my friend Kristi the day before, an excerpt from a devotional that made her think of me:

"Therefore will the LORD wait, that he may be gracious unto you...blessed are all they that wait for him." (Isaiah 30:18) 

The Lord has an inconceivably glorious purpose for each of His children. "If this is true," you ask, "why is it that He continues to wait longer and longer to offer His grace and to provide the help I seek, even after I have come and waited on Him?" He does so because He is a wise gardener who "waits for the land to yield its valuable crop" and is "patient...for the autumn and spring rains" (James 5:7). God knows He cannot gather the fruit until it's ripe, and He knows precisely when we are spiritually ready to receive blessings for our gain and His glory. Rest assured that if God waits longer than we desire, it is simply to make the blessings doubly precious....

Ahhh! It dawned on me then that I was hearing God's voice at last, confirmed through a sacred echo. I remembered my morning walk from the day before, how I'd reminded God of all those little signs of His love that I'd found at my lowest point back in the fall. "I could use some more manna now, God."

Here was my manna! But it got even better... and then better still.

Around mid afternoon, I was smiling at my desk and thinking about what an amazing author God is. Yes, this has been a roller coaster, but what a story it is, still unfolding. "I can't wait to get to the good part," I thought.

Another thought followed right on the tail of the first. "This is the good part!"

I laughed out loud. Yes, really. The good part is not getting the perfect house, or even the perfect neighbors. The good part is not getting free from all this stress. No. The good part is finding peace in the middle of the stress. It's breaking free of my fear and taking a leap of faith, knowing He will catch me.

Oh, if I can learn this lesson! I'll never be the same again.

When I shared all this at Bible study tonight, I explained how I'd felt so lost the last few days. "I felt deaf, alone in the desert."

One of the ladies reminded me that sometimes the desert is right where we need to be. It's there that God works on us, makes us grow. I nodded in agreement.

Priscilla Shirer's entire video, immediately after, was a sacred echo. It was a personal word to me (and probably to many others on both sides of the screen). Guess what it was all about? Yep, the desert! She recounted the story of Moses fleeing from Egypt and living in the desert for 40 years. After growing up in the palace with all the luxuries and the best education, he found himself a lowly shepherd. But it was there that he encountered the burning bush and heard the voice of God that changed his life forever.

"Bushes don't burn in the palace," Priscilla said.

"If your life isn't going the way you prefer it, if you find yourself in the desert, know that God is with you. [Emmanuel, God with us, I thought with a smile.] He has you in the desert for a purpose. He has a plan for you, and right now He's equipping you for that plan. Don't look at your circumstances, look up! Keep your eyes open for the burning bush, and keep your ears open. He will invite you to join Him in the personal plan he has for you, a plan that fits in with His plans for your generation." (my paraphrase)

Wow! As I said in my last entry, God's plans for me are so much bigger than a house. I have no idea what He's preparing me for, but I think it might have something to do with the call I felt to teaching about a year ago. In my current circumstances, going back to teaching seems utterly impossible. But is anything impossible for our God?

Thank you for reading. I can't wait to share the next chapter (and the next). As Gentle said this morning, I have no doubt that God will surpass my expectations in every way.

It's a Girl!

Here, after six months, is the next chapter of my love story with Bill. Please note that these events occurred in 2006, when I was pregnant with Allyson.

Excerpts from Allyson's Journal
Friday 1/6/06
Last night, Bill was lying beside me, and I was propped on pillows. He was cupping my belly, and he said he felt something. But his hand was too high, and he was feeling gas bubbles. We laughed. He left his hand in the same spot, feeling the movements of my digestion. I felt very loved.

When I rolled to my side, Bill wrapped his arm around me. I suddenly asked, "Was this what you imagined when you thought about marriage?"

He thought for a moment and said, "Yes, I guess it was."

I said it was much better than I ever imagined.

Saturday 1/6/06
I forgot one of the best moments of the Vancouver trip: When Bill was throwing snowballs at Minday and Brandy, he said, "Don't think I won't hit you just because you're sitting next to my pregnant wife!" There was a little pride in his tone when he called me that, and I felt proud, too.

Monday 1/16/06
We went to church, and I was enjoying the worship service. I whispered to Bill that the baby must be enjoying my singing; I'd read that babies at this stage can hear internal sounds such as their mother's voice.

When we were singing "Face Down," I was very moved and began to cry. The song says, "I'll fall, face down, as your glory shines around." I suddenly thought of what the baby might be experiencing. When I feel God's presence, I feel it throughout my body, as if I am bathed in a peaceful glow. I imagined that peace settling over our baby, imagined it shining with God's glory, and I was overwhelmed and almost wept.

Sunday 1/22/06
I'm struggling today with worry. Ironically, I worry about worrying, over the effect it could have on my baby. I've read that babies' personalities might be shaped by their mothers' emotional state during pregnancy and in the infant days.

I worry when the baby has quiet days.... Yesterday I didn't feel a lot of movement, though I did feel some. I was very busy cleaning, and I think all that activity could have lulled Tator Tot to sleep. Today, though, I haven't been overly active, yet I've felt even less movement. That's not to say I've felt nothing, but the movements have been sparse and seemingly less vigorous.... I know with the rational part of my mind that worrying won't help, and that the feelings are normal. (There's a section in my pregnancy book on these fears.)

My heart tells me I can trust God to take care of me and my baby no matter what happens. I know I don't have to be anxious, that I can present my requests to God with thanksgiving, and the peace of God will guard my heart and mind (Phillipians 4:4-9). I also know he has a plan for me, that He ordained all of my days before one of them came to be (Psalm 139). I know that He works in all things for my good, and that absolutely nothing can separate me from the love of Christ (Romans 8).

I'm thankful that God led me to memorize these passages that I need now. But so far, I've been unable to shake this nagging anxiety despite going over my scriptures and praying. I feel frustrated that I can fall so easily into this old trap of worry, the same worry as before, but with different surrounding circumstances.

Lord, I know you carried me through my struggles with fear and worry in the past, and I know you can do that now. Teach me the lesson again, Lord.... Be with me tonight when I share this with Bill. Draw us together, and please encourage me through him.

Wednesday 1/25/06
I had a good talk with Bill after Ethan went to bed. We sat on the couch in the loft, and Bill held my hand as I cried. He said he knew nothing he could say could take away my worry, but he was very supportive. I asked him to pray for me, though I knew that he prefers for me to do the praying. He said a very nice prayer that made me feel comforted and loved. He prayed for me first, then the baby. He asked God to help me feel secure and very loved, that I would know I would be okay no matter what happens with the baby. He asked God to cover the baby and make it grow strong and healthy. And he asked God to make the baby kick now and again to ease my worries.

It was the longest and most heartfelt prayer I'd ever heard from Bill, and I was touched. I realized that a very good effect had come out of my struggle, and I was thankful.

Tuesday 1/31/06
We had a sonogram today. We're having a girl! I can't believe I'm going to be a mother to a girl, then a young woman! I sort of had a feeling it was a girl, but of course I didn't really know....

In the car, I didn't make it out of the parking lot before I started sobbing. I started imagining a little girl in a ruffled dress, a preteen getting her first bra, her first period, her first date as a teenager. I just let the tears fall as I contemplated the wonder of watching our girl grow into a woman.

I must have been crying pretty hard because my cell phone rang, and it was Bill checking on me. He was in his truck, taking Ethan back to school while I headed to the airport for my flight to Chicago. He said, "What are you doing back there?"

I laughed and admitted, "I'm crying." I assured him they were happy tears, and I asked if he was happy. He said very. I asked if he was afraid about raising a girl, and he said, "Of course." He told me to take it easy and not get into a wreck.

I had to call him back a couple minutes later to report that she had woken up and was kicking. During the sonogram, she'd been sleeping, and no amount of jiggling and poking would rouse her.

But she was beautiful! We could see her head, her arms and legs, her fingers and toes, her spine and ribs, and... her face! We had a clear view of her profile, and we could make out her features. She was sleeping with her arms crossed over her face....

Ethan didn't say too much during the exam, but he told Bill later that he'd gotten his wish--he really wanted a baby sister. And when he got back to school, he showed his sono picture to the receptionist.

January 2006

It strikes me as I read my thoughts from six years ago that I am learning the same lessons about worry and trust yet again! And just as I said then, I'm finding that God continues to carry me through my struggles. And that something good can come out of them. Thank you, Jesus!

He Will Continue to Deliver Us

This is one of those entries I am hesitant to write, for two reasons. 1) It's humiliating to admit my weakness so soon after my last, top-of-the mountain post. 2) I know some of you worry about me, and I don't want you to. In any case, I really must share because it's another one of those times when God amazes me way too much to keep it to myself....

Remember how I said in my last post, "I'm sure this trial is far from over"? Of course I was right, but even I didn't expect that my joy would be so short-lived. Within 48 hours, I began to entertain worries about the future, and by the following morning, this past Sunday, I was in a full-blown anxiety attack. It wasn't even the worries about the future that got me, it was the frustration that I could be so vulnerable to my negative thoughts even after such an amazing revelation about why God is allowing me to go through this difficult time.

My typical tendency toward anxiety had been compounded by lack of sleep, and after an hour of trying to read the Bible and pray, I had myself convinced that I was surely losing my sanity. They'll have to carry me off, I thought. I just don't see how I can go on.

At that point, I sent a text message to my sister Amy asking that she and Mom request prayer for me at their church that morning. "I feel like I'm drowning," I told her.

And then I sat on the back porch drowning in my tears, gripped by a formless fear that constricted my chest. "Please God," I whispered. "Please. Please rescue me."

Amy's response encouraged me a bit, especially since she said she and Mom were praying against fear even though I hadn't told her I was afraid. But I still had a hard time holding back tears when I woke Allyson and made her breakfast. If she saw the tears that splashed into my cold cereal, she didn't say anything.

The first song at church was Our God is Greater, by Chris Tomlin. When the music minister reminded us that God is bigger than any problem we could have brought in with us, I started to sob. I cried through most of the worship service, while Bill silently squeezed my hand. These weren't the happy tears I usually shed during worship, nor were they tears of relief. They were tears of hopelessness and longing.

But when Pastor Bill stepped out to deliver his message on fear, everything changed in an instant. Here's the verse that flashed on the screen:

For God has not given us a spirit of fear but of power and of love and of a sound mind. (2 Timothy 1:7)

I grabbed Bill's arm. "Hey, that's the verse Amy just texted me. She and Mom were praying that for me this morning!" I could barely keep my voice to a whisper.

"Weird," he whispered back.

"Not weird, wonderful," I said. "That's God."

The sermon was perfect for my situation. What stuck with me most was the admonition to be persistent in my faith, to expect opposition from the enemy but to keep my eyes on God's promises.

I walked out of the church in awe, humbled at God's grace. I felt ashamed to need so many reassurances, and grateful for His patience with me. I felt very loved. But I still felt terribly sad and tired.

Bill and Allyson dropped me at the airport that afternoon for my flight to Portland. I passed through security numbly and then wandered through the airport looking for something to eat, wayward tears slipping down my cheeks at random moments. I didn't even bother to brush them away. The airport was so crowded that strangers kept bumping me, yet I felt utterly invisible.

I called Amy and Mom from the gate and told them the story of the pastor's message. We were all excited about how God had so clearly spoken to Amy about my fear, and how he'd given me exactly the same message twice in one hour.

But I was still teary when I ended the call and walked down the jetway. God, I thought, could you please sit me next to someone kind? But then I dismissed the idea, for of course the seat assignments had been arranged long before.

The girl next to me did seem quite pleasant, and she willingly loaned me her only pen for the first hour of the flight while I poured out my heart in my journal. After that she took a nap, and I read several chapters of The Hunger Games, which was quite captivating but not at all cheerful.

I closed the book when I was down to the last three chapters, saving the rest for the return flight this Saturday. I closed my eyes then, but sleep wouldn't come. Instead, the scary thoughts tried to worm their way back in. "You're all alone on this plane. There's no one to talk to, no one who understands. You're probably going crazy."

I opened my eyes and stared out over the wing at the fluffiest white clouds I'd ever seen. The sky was full of God's majesty, but all I wanted was a friend to hold my hand. I turned away from the window with a sigh. My seatmate was awake, and she was looking at me. "Are you enjoying that?" she asked, gesturing to my book.

I shook my head slightly to clear my thoughts. "Hunger Games? Oh, yes. It's a great book. Have you read it?"

She had, and she also saw the movie, which she said was good but nowhere near as good as the book. We talked easily for a few minutes, and then gradually the conversation turned more serious. I learned that she is a nurse manager who works in an addiction treatment center, and that they work with their patients to help them overcome negative thought patterns.

So I took a deep breath and told her about my negative thought patterns. She was kind, compassionate, and very reassuring. We talked about scriptures that apply to my situation, agreeing that the only way to combat the lies is by replacing them with truth.

We talked for over an hour. As the plane made its final approach, I told her how I'd prayed that God would put me next to someone kind, and I thanked her for ministering to a stranger. She told me I'd ministered to her just as much. She'd had a hard trip, and she hated to have missed church, and the best thing that could have happened was having someone to talk about Jesus with. She also confessed that she never talks to people on planes--neither do I--and that she is very shy and doesn't like to start conversations with strangers. So neither of us had a doubt that God had orchestrated our encounter.

When we pulled into the gate, I finally thought to introduce myself. She said her name was Molly. When we parted ways at the terminal, she gave me a hug. I smiled all the way to the hotel as I marveled at God's providence. He knew all along what I would ask, and He'd already granted my request. At the same time, he met Molly's need even though she hadn't asked anything.

In the two days since, God has continued to lavish me with little signs of his love. I've laughed with colleagues whom I haven't seen in two years, eaten salmon that melted in my mouth, walked everywhere in the most glorious weather, drunk in the sight of towering trees that belong on a serenity poster, and eaten cookies and scones lovingly made by the locals on my team. Today at lunch was the icing on the cake. I met a girl from class who is a fervent Christian. She's my age, and we seem to have a lot in common. We shared tips for insomnia, and we talked about Jesus. When lunch was over, she gave me a hug, and I called her my sister.

I was positively grinning as I walked back to class because I realized that truly I had just found a sister I'd never met before. How incredible is that? I have sisters and brothers everywhere. How could I ever feel alone?

Again, I'll readily admit that this trial is far from over, but at this moment I am overflowing with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit (Romans 15:13). And the next time I feel like I'm drowning, I know God will pull me out of the deep waters. He will rescue me from my powerful enemy who is too strong for me, and he will bring me out into a spacious place. He will rescue me because he delights in me (Psalm 18:16-19).

Now, a request for you. Please don't worry about me. Instead, pray for me when I come to mind. As Paul says in 2 Corinthians 1, I felt in my heart the sentence of death, but it happened so that I might not rely on myself but on God, who raises the dead. "He has delivered us from such a deadly peril, and he will deliver us. On him we have set our hope, that he will continue to deliver us, as you help us by your prayers" (emphasis added).

You keep helping me by your prayers, and God will continue to deliver me.

Angels Working Overtime

Can you imagine anything more terrifying than tumbling headlong down a flight of steps in the pitch black? Neither could I--until yesterday morning at 6:05 A.M.

In the days since my mishap on the stairs, I'd been trying so hard to find the balance between taking it easy and staying active. I did four small walks with Allyson to her school, totaling 8 miles. With each passing day, the pain in my right hip diminished a bit more, but walking still felt like a sacrifice. I remember thinking, when my hip started throbbing halfway home from school on Wednesday, It's good for me to suffer a bit. No one said this 3-Day Walk would be easy. My discomfort is nothing next to what Laura suffered, and she never lost her smile through it all.

When Saturday rolled around, I was both excited and apprehensive about my four-hour training walk. I planned to start walking in my neighborhood at 6:00 in the morning and then meet up with my friend Marie at 7:00 to finish the last three hours in the park.

When the alarm went off at 5:30, I rolled resolutely out of my comfy bed. I shut off the backup alarm on my cell phone, which I'd stored safely away from the bedroom, and then I completed my entire ritual. By 5:57 I had taped up and lubed my feet, loaded the canteens onto my belt, and swallowed my last bite of peanut butter toast.

As I stepped out the door, I noted with pride that I'd made it out at 6:00 on the nose. The near total darkness was a bit scary, but my street was comfortably familiar, so I pushed down the anxiety and started walking at a gentle pace that didn't cause my hip much pain.

I hadn't made it past our neighbor's driveway when I noticed a car farther down the street that made me unaccountably uneasy. It just didn't feel like that car belonged. All I could see was the headlights, but the engine sounded rather souped up, with a loud muffler. That doesn't sound like an upstanding citizen on the way to a Saturday morning job, I thought, slowing my pace. And why are they idling like that on the side of the road at 6:00 in the morning?

The car pulled away from the curb then and drove slowly past me. I didn't know if I'd been seen, but I shuddered anyway and picked up my pace. I was about six doors down from my house when I heard that same engine coming back down the street. I immediately pivoted on my heel and started back toward my house, a sinking feeling in my gut.

As the car came back by, I noted that it was an older red car that looked like a Camaro, maybe early 90s. My heart started hammering when the car stopped just behind me and I heard the window rolling down. I figured I was about to hear the dreaded line you hear in movies just before someone is abducted: "Say, can you tell me how to get to _______."

I paused for just the fraction of a second, wondering how rude or silly it would be to take off running, and then I decided I didn't want to wait around to see what this person thought. I rocketed off down the sidewalk for my very first run in my Five Finger shoes. Running in Five Finger shoes is like running barefoot, and you can injure yourself if you're not careful while you're learning the stride. On your toes, on your toes, I reminded myself.

Behind me I heard a man's voice calling to me in a foreign language I didn't recognize, most likely not Spanish, which is common around here. He was calling out a woman's name, which I seem to remember as Miriam though I can't be sure. From his tone it seemed he was saying, "Miriam, Miriam! Wait!"

I yelled, "You don't know me" and kept running.

After that his voice became more insistent, a little angry and bordering on desperate. And it sounded louder, closer. Surely he wasn't pursuing me on foot!

Faster, faster!  my thoughts ordered my body as my house loomed larger. But I couldn't go any faster because each time my right foot struck the sidewalk, pain radiated up the back of my thigh and coursed through my hip. An oddly detached portion of my mind reflected that, though I'd heard that adrenaline dulls pain in an emergency, it didn't seem to be true for me; maybe I wasn't terrified enough.

"Go away," I cried plaintively.

The man yelled something unintelligible. He was definitely gaining on me. But now I was in front of the neighbor's house... Now I was at my driveway! I stumbled up the hill and onto my porch. Home! Safe!

But then I realized with horror that the man was scrambling up the driveway behind me! Though my keys were dangling from a band around my wrist, I realized there was no way I could fit the key in the lock and get through the door in time.  Am I about to die? I wondered, a sick feeling in my gut.

I jabbed the doorbell repeatedly with my right hand while my left hand fumbled with the keys. And I began to scream the only word that came to my head in that moment. Was it "Jesus!!!"? No. Nothing like that. It was "Hey!!!"

"Hey!!! Hey!!!... Bill-Bill-Bill!!!" I screamed, so loud that my throat was hoarse afterward.

Just then the man apparently got a good look at me under the glow from the porchlight, which I'd thankfully forgotten to turn off.

"Oh--wrong person!" he exclaimed. I risked a glance at him just as the door finally unlocked. He was short and dark with a clean-cut haircut and no facial hair, and he looked to be in his twenties.

"Bill!" I screamed again.

"What the f___!" he yelled at me. "Sheeze." And then he ran back the way he'd come.

I slammed the door shut and twisted the deadbolt. What the f____? I thought. That's all you have to say to me? As if I'm a crazy freak for screaming my head off when a strange man pursues me through the dark?"

For about two minutes, I stood there frozen and wild eyed. I had to talk to someone, but amazingly all was quiet upstairs, and I hated to wake Bill (and most likely Allyson too) so early on a Saturday. So I phoned Marie.

"Are you about ready?" I asked, my voice trembly.

"Yes. Are you okay?"

My chin wobbled, and I burst into tears. "No-o-o!" I wailed.

"What is it?"

Pacing back and forth in front of the front window, I told her the story between sobs.

"Do you still want to walk?" she asked.

"Yes! Please come as soon as you can," I pleaded.

"I will," she promised in a soothing voice. "I'm getting into the car in just a minute. You just drink some water and sit down and try to relax. I'll call when I'm getting close."

After we hung up, I unhooked my water belt and took a swig from one of the bottles. And then I sat on my favorite nap chair, my feet splayed on the ottoman. But I couldn't relax because I was trembling all over and my hip was absolutely throbbing from the short run.

I hit Redial. "Can you bring me some Advil?" I whined. "I'm out."

"Of course," she said.

She arrived at 7:00, right on schedule. I showed her the hole on the stairway landing and my bruises, and then we set out. After walking and talking for three hours--only 8 miles at my slow pace--I felt so much better that I gave her a kiss on the cheek before she left.

But I kept dissolving into tears all day long, like at Allyson's 10:30 soccer game, where I told Bill the whole story.

"Why didn't you answer the doorbell?" I sobbed.

He explained that it had only rung once; apparently I pushed it so rapidly that it couldn't respond. And because I'd closed the bedroom door, he had not heard my screams at all, which disturbed him. "I thought it was Marie coming to meet you," he said. "I had no idea you'd even left at that point."

Several hours later, he frowned as he posed a question of his own. "Why on earth didn't you wake me up when it happened?"

Fresh tears streamed down my cheeks. "I know I should have," I said meekly. "But I was safe. I just wanted to let you sleep."

"If something like that ever happens again, know this: I would want you to wake me up. Maybe I could have gotten a license plate number or something."

He also gave me lots of other good advice, like never to walk alone in the dark (no warning needed there!), and to carry the mace and whistle he'd given me a couple years back, and to run to the gate instead of the front door so Lola could protect me. We both agreed that I need to take Lola with me on my solo walks, which could prove quite an adventure in itself.

And then he thought of the most obvious thing of all. "You were holding your car keys," he said. "Why didn't you push the panic button? I definitely would have heard that."

I wanted to kick myself for not thinking of that. The man had been right next to my car. I could have scared the crap out of HIM!

Of course, I am beyond thankful that I was not harmed. I really think it was a simple case of mistaken identity, but I shudder to think what could have happened had the man caught me. It makes me angry that I can't seem to shake the terror, that I feel so vulnerable and weak, afraid to do my training walks even in the daylight. It makes me angry that the same people who I see every week in the park now seem menacing to me. And I can't believe this week that I've had! Two brushes with death in six days! Surely my angels have been working overtime protecting me.

It's funny that I was thinking of my guardian angel, because look what came in the mail for me yesterday afternoon:

It was a book of true stories about angel encounters and a lovely journal from Kelly, a friend of Laura's whom I've never met except through Facebook. In her card she said she's wanted to send me the book ever since the memorial service, but things have been busy and she just now got around to it. She said the journal is to record my experiences with the 3-Day Walk, and she mentioned that she has done it twice and would love to join me on a training walk.

Her package could not have come on a better day, and I am quite sure it was no coincidence. I was feeling so overwhelmed with the safety issues and the pain in my hip that I was wondering if all of this is really worth it. After reading this stranger's kind words, I knew. Of course it's worth it! There is so much support out there for me if I only reach out. No way I'm giving up now!

Please be in prayer for my safety and for full healing of my injured hip. I'm going to visit the chiropractor tomorrow and see if he can help. I also went to PetSmart yesterday and bought a special harness that my brother Rick and his wife Diane swear works miracles with dogs that pull. We shall see. You'd better pray for me and Lola, too, while you're at it!

Take Courage!

Once again, I just have to post about what I learned at Bible study...

In tonight's video, Beth Moore discussed Esther's transformation from fearful self-preservation to brave determination. When Mordecai asked her to go before the king and plead for her people, Esther initially replied that the penalty for approaching the king without being summoned was death. But when he suggested that she had come to her position for such a time as this, she realized that she had to fulfill her destiny. "If I perish, I perish," she said.

Here is how Esther came to that point of courage, and what this means to us:

1. She made a choice. Esther had to overcome herself and her fears before she could take part in God's plan.
   
   -We can protect ourselves right out of our calling.
   -We are the biggest obstacle to fulfilling our purpose.
   -We may be one brave decision away from the most important turn in our path.
   -We have to look at our lives and ask, "Am I headed in the direction I want to end up?"
   
   
2. Esther faced the fear. She did this by acknowledging the worst possible outcome ("if I perish") and deciding there was something else much more important at stake than her own life.
   
   -The enemy figures out what we fear most, and he threatens us over and over with our worst fears. If he can keep us paralyzed with fear, he'll succeed in making us suffer from something THAT WILL PROBABLY NEVER HAPPEN! He doesn't even have to bring calamity, just the fear of it.
   -The most frequent command in the Bible is, "Don't be afraid!"
   -We must stop trusting God to not let bad things happen to us! Instead, we must learn to simply trust God.
   -We cherish fear so closely that we can't shed it. And until we can learn to live without fear, we are hindered from following Jesus.
   -There is no denial in courage. We don't need to deny that we have cancer or have lost our job or ____. We just need to deny that these situations have authority over us.
   
   
3. Esther took the courage she was offered. She asked the Jews in the city of Susa to fast and pray for her, and she trusted that God would take care of her.
   
   -God will always offer us the courage of his presence. He will never leave us or forsake us.
   -"Courage" comes from the Latin word "cor," which means "heart." A heart that knows it is loved does not fear, for "perfect love casts out fear." (1 John 4:18).
   -When Jesus came to the disciples on the water, he said, "Take courage. It is I." (Matthew 14:27) He wants us to take courage, also. The courage is there, because Jesus is there, but we have to take it.
   
   

The Fear of Death
As I have shared previously, God delivered me from my intense fear of death last year, but I was still thrilled by the truths that Beth shared about death. She told us that:

• When Jesus embraced death and destroyed the Devil's power over death, he freed all of us who were in slavery to our fear of death (Hebrews 2:14).
• Jesus has come to give us life, more abundantly (John 10:10). We can't really live if we're constantly in fear of death (or fear of anything).
  
• We don't need to fear death because we've already been dead! We were dead in our sins, but now we are alive in Christ, and we have eternal life. (Colossians 2:13, Ephesians 2:6, Galatians 2:20)

The Revelation
The theme of tonight's session was: "It's tough being a woman in the tight fist of fear." For the third time, I felt the study could have been written specifically for me. I've been that woman! But as Beth said, I'm sick of being afraid. I'm tired of worrying that I might lose my job, lose the house, lose a child, lose my husband, lose my health. I'm tired of being afraid to take risks or even make new friends.

Tonight I have hope that I can be free of those fears, and I'm ecstatic about that. Here's the most important thing I learned tonight, something so simple and so profound...

Beth told us how she had been set free from a fear that her husband would fall in love with someone else. She said God told her to go ahead and think about the worst case scenario. What would happen? She invited us to think about the same thing:

If _________________ , then __________________ .

What came to Beth's mind when she thought through this was that she'd be devastated, crushed. She would lie on the floor with a Bible over her face. God kept asking, "Then what?" When she got to the end of all the terrible possibilities, she finally said, "I would go back into ministry. I would be mad, but I would go on." That's when she realized that no matter what might happen to her, God would be with her, and she would survive.

She told us to fill in that if/then sentence like this:

If __(your fear here)__________ , then God will take care of me.

If I can learn to believe that, I don't have to fear anything!

The Virtuous Woman
Just when I thought I knew everything there was to know about the "virtuous woman," or "the wife of noble character" as she is called in the NIV translation, Beth taught me something I didn't know about this beloved memory passage.

In Proverbs 31:10, the word translated "virtuous" or "noble" is the same word used in Judges 6:12 to describe Gideon as a mighty man of valor. This means the virtuous woman is also the courageous woman! From now on, when I meditate on that passage, I am going to believe that that description applies to me. I don't have to be Sarah The Fearful any longer.

I'll conclude by repeating a question that Beth asked of us tonight:

CAN YOU IMAGINE LIVING WITHOUT FEAR?

I intend to find out what that's like.

Facing My Fears

One of the best learning experiences I ever had was battling my fear of death. Last spring (2008), I asked God to deliver me from my fear, and he gave me an amazing dream that I believe may have been a glimpse of my own death. It wasn't too long after that, though, when my newfound peace was severely tested.

In April of 2008, I was sick with a stomach bug and fever that left me so weak that my lips were blue. The fatigue lingered for nearly a week, and I started to worry a little. I suddenly realized that the shortness of breath that had plagued me during my last pregnancy had never completely resolved. I hadn't noticed it because it was subtle: I'd get out of breath from climbing the stairs or running for the phone--this despite the fact that I was in good shape and very active. Now, though, I was getting breathless from carrying Allyson, from bending over, and even from singing.

I called my ex-husband to ask him about his asthma symptoms; while I was pregnant, my doctor had suggested the possibility of exercise-induced asthma. But my symptoms were completely different than Byron's. He reminded me about my mitral valve prolapse, a typically harmless condition where the mitral valve billows and causes a heart murmur. He urged me to see my doctor.

I was reluctant to tell the doctor about my fears since I was only 38 and was obviously in good health. I figured it would be a battle to get any testing done. But then I did some research on the Internet and scared the crap out of myself. Everywhere I looked, I read that you should call your doctor right away if you developed shortness of breath with your MVP. Based on all my symptoms, I was convinced that the condition had progressed to mitral regurgitation, where the mitral valve allows blood to flow backward from the left ventricle into the atrium.

I saw the doctor on a Tuesday morning. I had been so anxious that I hadn't been able to sleep well for several nights in a row despite being utterly exhausted. On Monday night, I'd taken a Benadryl in the middle of the night, so I could barely get out of bed for my 8:00 appointment, and I was nervous and shaky.

At first, the doctor seemed nonchalant about my concerns, but the moment he put his stethoscope on my chest, he said, "Oh yes. I hear a murmur." This was alarming, because in the past my doctors could either hear nothing at all, or just a very subtle click. And usually they had to listen very carefully to hear anything. He also remarked that my pulse was very rapid, but I knew that was just the anxiety.

He ordered an echocardiogram, which he scheduled for the next day.

His Works Are Wonderful
(Excerpts From My Journal -Wednesday 4/23/08)
The echo was actually really interesting. I could clearly see my mitral valve, my ventricle, and my atrium. I also got to hear my heartbeat, and it sounded like Allyson's had during prenatal visits, only much slower. I could hear the telltale third heart sound that indicates a murmur.

I felt awed to see and hear the very essence of my life. I thought of my beloved Psalm 139: "I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made. Your works are wonderful; I know that full well."

Tears of wonder trickled from the corner of my eye and ran down into my hair. How amazing that this intricately made pump had been beating continuously, faithfully, for all of my life--indeed, even before I was born! I felt a surge of love for God....

I didn't feel anxious. Overall, I just felt reassured to see and hear the steady beat of my heart.... I'm trying not to be anxious because I can feel how the anxiety worsens my symptoms. I'm trying to let God teach me patience and trust yet again. I just wonder what my future holds?

-Thursday 4/24/08
Today has been extremely emotional. The problem is that I don't know whether I am battling anxiety, or whether my symptoms are just part of my heart problem. What I mean is that my thoughts don't feel anxious; only my body feels it. I've been meditating on all my memory passages and praying, and my mind feels at peace. Yet my heart continues to race intermittently.

Today I emailed out a prayer request to all my friends, asking them to pray for God to guard my mind and heart with his peace, and also that he would teach me the lesson he has for me--and of course that he would heal my heart.

I didn't know Mom's new email address, so I called her. She was amazing. I'd caught her dozing, so she had no time to think up a flowery prayer. She proceeded to pray for me using the words from the memory passages I'd been studying. She prayed for peace that transcends understanding (Philippians 4). She said that God has me in his hand, that he knows me inside and out, knows all about me. She asked him to help me trust his plan, to know that he planned all my days before I was even born (Psalm 139).

With tears rolling down my cheeks, I told her that her words were the same ones that God had been using to comfort me. She said it had to be God speaking through her because she hadn't known these were my memory passages.

She prayed for my physical symptoms to line up with what I'm believing in my mind. That's exactly what I need. I've been having such peaceful, contented thoughts--in total contrast with the anxious feelings. My body needs to come in line. And I believe it is doing that. I can feel the prayers of the people who love me....

Contentment
My overwhelming emotion is thankfulness. I told Bill last night in bed that I could die right now and still say I've had a very fulfilling and meaningful life. I have a loving husband and two precious children. I have the love of friends and family. I have learned to experience God's love in a new way, and to share it with others. I have been so richly blessed, and at this moment I have no regrets. I never expected to feel this content at age 38. God has done so much in my heart these last few months. The things I had so much insecurity about--financial security, physical beauty, Bill's attention--seem so insignificant now.

I realize that--whatever the outcome (and I know I'm being overly dramatic)--this is a battle I need to fight. I thought insecurity/jealousy was the biggest battle, but I realize now it's anxiety and worry. I know God is going to work all of this for my good (Romans 8:28).

After I'd poured out all this emotion to Bill, I asked him to pray for me, and he said, "I've been praying for you." It still surprises me to know that Bill prays. It's just that he's so private about his faith. It seems his faith has been quietly growing.

I asked what he'd prayed for me, and he said that I'd feel contented. I found that an odd choice of words at the time. I'd expected him to pray for healing or peace. But now, as I write this all out, I realize that God has been answering his prayer. Contentment is the best way to describe the way I'm feeling about my life, and it's just what I need to combat my fears.

Thank you, Father, for the love and support of my husband, friends, and family. Thank you for allowing my faith to grow through this struggle. Thank you for the perfect love that casts out fear.
********************************

I never did find out what was causing the shortness of breath. The mitral valve prolapse was evident on the echocardiogram, but there was no significant regurgitation. I had a full workup with a cardiologist, had my thyroid medication adjusted, and even saw a hematologist (because I have a condition called hemochromatosis, which can cause heart trouble), but no one could say definitively what was causing my symptoms. I think they suspect anxiety, but I disagree. The symptoms are definitely worse with anxiety, but I often experience shortness of breath at odd times when I am not at all stressed. Maybe I'm just a hypochondriac.

In any case, I've learned to ignore it. I'm glad to have gone through this experience because I can honestly say now that I feel comfortable with the idea of death, and--even more importantly--I appreciate my life more. I'm learning not to stress over the little things, and to literally stop and smell the flowers. God works in mysterious ways!

Crossing the Veil

Last night, according to our usual routine, Ethan and I checked the progress of Luke, a ten-year-old boy who has a brain tumor. We were delighted to learn that the surgery on his "inoperable brain tumor" was a success.

I stood on a chair next to his bunk bed after that, and before we prayed for Luke, Ethan asked some tough questions. He wanted to know why people get sick, especially children. I could sense his unspoken question: why do people have to die?

As I scratched his back, I told him about Adam and Eve in the garden, and how sin and death entered the world. Then I told him that God has ordained all of our days, and he has chosen the day of our death. No matter when it happens, it's going to be the right time. I told him we don't have to fear death because we know what's waiting for us in heaven, but that it's still very hard for us to lose a loved one.

I was thankful that these were not just platitudes. Had he asked the same questions a year ago, I could not have answered with the same peaceful assurance. Last year, I asked God to set me free from my fear of death, and the way he answered was marvelous.

I'd always been a little ashamed about my fear because of course I knew that to be absent from this world is to be present with Jesus in heaven. Still, I couldn't shake the fear of the unknown: When would I die? How would I die? Would it be a violent or painful death? What would happen after I was gone? I couldn't bear the thought of not being here. I wanted to go to heaven, but not YET!

The Dream - Excerpt From My Journal, 2/25/08
I had a dream this morning. The only part I remember is this....

I was hesitating at the threshold of a door. I wanted to go through, but I was afraid. I thought, "But I don't know what's on the other side."

I heard God answer, "Yes, you do."

I realized then, not in the dream, but as if a narrator had explained it, that this was the moment of my death. I was trembling with nervousness, but I opened the door and stepped in. What I saw was painted walls, like a bedroom, I think. It was a warm, yellow color. And I opened my arms wide and accepted God's love into my whole being. I was covered in peace.

"You have crossed the veil," God explained, a smile in his voice.

Then I woke up. "I want to cross the veil now," I answered, vaguely remembering the way I had explained to a friend recently that I felt so close to God, yet perceived a veil between us. [I wrote about this in a recent blog entry.]

This dream comforted me on two levels. For one thing, I'm tired of fearing death. I suppose I will always fear the physical pain that might accompany death, but God has assured me--especially through my latest memory passage--that he will be with me through every trial: passing through water or walking through fire. I think of how he comforted me through my labor and delivery when I had Allyson, and how it made the pain more bearable. The pain didn't go away, but God gave me the strength to endure it.

The second way the dream comforted me was the foretaste of surrendering completely to God's love. It gave me hope that I can step through that veil before I die....

Lord, my heart longs to cross the veil that hinders me from experiencing the fullness of your love. I don't know how to cross it. Please show me. Please change my heart and cast out my fear with your perfect love.

After I wrote this, I felt led to kneel on the living room floor. I knelt on a throw pillow and rested my forehead on my crossed arms. I prayed for several minutes, asking God to help me cross the veil. I poured out my longing to him and asked him to let me experience his love so I could share it with others.

I immediately thought of [several friends] and began to pray for them and their families. I cried so much that my nose was dripping....

I wanted so much to to have some definitive experience that would let me know I had "prayed through," but I felt an assurance that God would keep working on me, that it didn't have to happen all at once.

So I got up and walked to the kitchen to blow my nose. I glanced in front of me and saw yellow walls. Could it have been our kitchen that I saw in the dream?

I stood in front of the window seat and closed my eyes as the sun shone down on my face. Through my eyelids, I could see a yellow glow. As in my dream, I opened my arms and accepted God's love.

I don't know that I experienced anything new, but I know I can't base my faith on my emotions. So I'm believing that this intensified desire is God calling me, and that my obedience to his call is going to change me in his time. I choose to be obedient to whatever work God calls me to.




Preparing For Battle
On April 9, 2008, we met for our last Bible study of the semester. We did an in-depth study of heaven. It was amazing. I guess I'd never really thought about how wonderful it would be because I was too busy worrying about dying. But it really is something to look forward to, to long for.

The most important thing is to be with God and see his face clearly. I will be worshiping him face to face among other believers from every nation. God himself will wipe away every tear from my eye.

Here are just a few of the verses we studied:

• Philippians 1:23-24
• 2 Corinthians 5:8
• Isaiah 65:17-19
• Revelation 7:16-17
• Revelation 21:1-4
• Revelation 21:18-24

The Trial
God's timing was perfect. Just a couple of weeks later, I went through a big scare with my heart. I was having unexplained shortness of breath that I thought was related to my mitral valve prolapse. I went through some severe anxiety and had to confront my fear of death head on--and God was with me every step of the way. In the end, I felt truly at peace with the idea of dying. But that's another story....