Sonlight Shining Through the Cracks

Last Friday, a blog reader I didn’t know I had reached out to check on me. I told him I’ve been writing a blog entry in my head for weeks, and I knew it was time to write it down and share it with you.

I wrote most of this entry on my lunch break that day, sitting at my cluttered kitchen table next to the window. The sky was a dull gray, and I felt too chilly to venture out for a much-needed walk in the park. Even so, I didn't feel as down as I might have felt a week or two before.

Over these last weeks of forced isolation, God has been working a transformation in me. Actually, it started before COVID-19 locked us all in our homes.

Ever since I started working again in early January, I’d gradually been feeling better in mind and body. The daily warm greetings from my friend Laura, and the repartee between her, myself, and our colleagues gave me a reason to get out of bed and pack up all my meals, drinks, and snacks each day.

One area of my recovery lagged behind, though. I missed my old closeness with Jesus dreadfully, and I often cried when I prayed about it. Because of all the struggles I’d been through over the preceding six months, I often found myself listening, if only for a moment, to my enemy’s constant refrain: “Maybe He really isn’t good. Maybe He can’t be trusted.” 

Still on the Path

I’ve missed you guys so much these last weeks. I think of you often and want to tell you my stories, but either I get too busy wrecking and re-cleaning my kitchen, or I decide I don’t have anything worth saying. I keep waiting to learn the lesson so I can share something uplifting with you, but I’m just not there yet. 

So I will just tell you like it is. I’ll start with the good, tell you about the parts that don’t feel so good, and end with the great.

The Good

I have been following my personalized autoimmune diet for about three and a half months now. I eat only the foods that provoked the lowest level of antibodies on my blood test. I enjoy a fair variety of red meat, fish, poultry, vegetables, and fruits--all organic and pasture raised so as to avoid toxins from pesticides. 

Most of the pain that I had during my acute flare-up of Hashimoto’s thyroiditis and prolonged bout of insomnia has faded out. I sleep soundly each night, and my energy level is good, especially on days when the weather and my schedule permit me to ride my bike.

I no longer react to fragrances nor to essential oils, which I now apply to my thyroid daily (lemongrass, frankincense, and myrrh). When I react to a food, I no longer get tachycardia or bradycardia (high or low heart rate). I don’t get manic any more; that was the effect of severe insomnia, which creates a chemical state in the brain that is remarkably similar to intoxication.

In many ways, I feel healthier than I have felt in years:

• I’ve gained 10 of the 20 pounds I had lost since last May.
• I no longer get shaky and anxious when I am hungry, nor do I need to eat every 1.5 to 2 hours. 
• My hair is getting thicker.
• The outer edges of my eyebrows are growing in. (Hypothyroid patients typically lose the outer third of their eyebrows.)
• My nails are thicker, and they no longer split.
• Despite being off all thyroid medication for nearly 5 months, my energy level is good and I still have none of the typical hypothyroid symptoms except dry skin and cold intolerance.
• After nine years of perimenopausal symptoms, my periods have become more regular and the night sweats have stopped. This should also mean that my iron levels are returning to normal.
• My resting heart rate is lower, which contributes to deeper sleep.
• My digestion is much better. The frequent stomach pain, reflux, and diarrhea have almost completely stopped. Better digestion leads to better immune function and better mental health.

After two months of solid sleep, I feel ready to return to work and am now looking for a job. In the interim, I get myself out of the house and satisfy my desire to be with people by volunteering at my local library and at the junior high where I used to work. I particularly enjoy leading bilingual story hour at the library, but my happiest days each week are the ones when I’m working one-on-one with struggling readers at the junior high.

At the end of a happy day

I have committed my latest scripture passage to memory and find great comfort in meditating on it daily. Although I usually can’t feel God working, I do believe that this trial is achieving for me an eternal glory that far outweighs the struggles. One day I will share the whole story with you, and then “all of this [will be] for your benefit, so that the grace that is reaching more and more people will cause thanksgiving to overflow to the glory of God.” (2 Corinthians 4:15)

The Parts that Don’t Feel So Good

I spend much of my time feeling alone and lonely. Of course I see Allyson, but she’s a typical busy teen. I see my family every week or two and my friends occasionally, and I often talk with them on the phone, but sometimes I just want a flesh-and-blood hug. I want to see the tears of laughter on their cheeks when we share a belly laugh. I want to just hang out.

Some days when it’s raining or too cold for me to get out on my bike in the sun, I feel unbearably sad and hopeless. I have to remind myself over and over that this time of trouble is light and momentary when compared to a lifetime or to eternity. I know that brighter days are waiting for me just around the corner.

Worse than the loneliness is the anxiety that tries to reclaim its hold on me. The main trigger is agonizing over my financial position and over the heavy responsibility of choosing a direction for my career. My heart wants to return to teaching, but the timing is wrong, and it’s hard to imagine taking care of myself adequately while managing such a crushing workload. Taking a job that I could leave at work each day and where I could earn more money makes sense, yet it also feels like turning my back on what God called me to do. 

Another trigger is fear that my condition could be worsening. Over the last couple of weeks, I’ve had occasional pain in my joints and the residual pain in my skin has become more intense on some days. It could be something that I ate, but I suspect that the main cause is the stress of job hunting and applying for social services to help me through this transition. 

One moment that brought unexpected tears was a trip to Walmart with Allyson and my sister Amy, who was Christmas shopping. As I glanced at aisles and aisles of items I could not afford, my mind flashed back to countless mundane trips to Walmart. On those other days, despite my careful budgeting, I could always toss a few small items into the cart without the slightest concern. How could I not have known how blessed I was? Would I be able to do that again, or would my illness prevent me from earning a good living going forward?

My worst anxiety gripped me last Tuesday, as I drove home from my first trip to the food pantry. It seemed impossible that I could be a recipient at the same charity where I once volunteered with my church home group. This isn’t supposed to happen to a person who adheres religiously to the Dave Ramsey budget, nor to a person who had scarcely been sick a day in her life. What if I couldn’t find a job? What if I lost the house?

I rubbed my sternum with one hand and switched on the blinker with the other, glancing twice over my shoulder as I merged onto the off ramp. “God, I need you,” I called out. I pictured Jesus seeking out a lost lamb. “Come and get me, Daddy!” Warm tears cut trails down my cold cheeks, and I dashed them away so that Allyson wouldn’t see.

A few blocks later, I pulled into the garage and sat for a moment clutching the steering wheel and breathing deeply. “I know you’re with me,” I whispered. “This light and momentary trial is just for a season. Even if I can’t see it, even if I can’t feel it, I know you are working in me. You will finish the work that you started in me, Father.” I drew in a few more big breaths, my shoulders relaxing as I  imagined rolling my burdens into Jesus’s capable hands.

I rubbed my knuckles across my eyes one more time and called through the house door for Allyson. “Come help me unload the groceries!”

“See what I got?” I said, with a determined smile. “Look at these.” I pointed at some miniature tarts that I would be unable to eat.. “I think they’re… pumpkin.”

“Nice!” Allyson replied, wearing a matching determined smile. “And ramen?? Cool.” I grinned; ramen noodles have been a source of contention between us due to their absolute lack of nutritional value, but I’d brought home one pack for her, along with several boxes of Kraft mac and cheese.

While we made room in the impossibly crowded pantry, I explained the other resources I’d learned of that morning: food stamps, help with utilities and Internet, and job placement agencies.

“In about an hour, I have an interview with Sprout’s [one of my favorite grocery stores],” I said. “I’m supposed to take my resume, but I don’t have time to update it from when I was looking for a teaching job. Maybe I-”

“Mom!” Allyson rolled her eyes. “If they hired Ethan with zero experience, you have nothing to worry about. Just relax.” 

“You’re right, baby.” I decided to work on the cowlick on the back of my scalp instead of modifying the resume.

The interview went okay, but I left feeling unsettled about the idea of working there, mainly because there would be no set schedule, and I’d probably work well past 10 at night. My sleep is still one of my main priorities, and I guard it carefully.

I explained all of this to Amy on Thanksgiving day two days later. Tears filled my eyes when I said, “It’s not that God isn’t talking to me; it’s just that I can’t get quiet enough to hear Him. I know if I could just be still, He would lead me.”

“Sarah, remember that the steps of a righteous man are ordered by God,” Amy replied with a warm smile. “No matter what job you get, whether it’s a transitional job or the next position God has chosen for you, you can be sure that it will be the right place. God is ordering your steps, and He is going to provide for all of your needs.”

A church song from my childhood sprang to the forefront of my memory, and I took a moment to marvel at the power of music both to preserve and to resurrect memories. In a voice just loud enough for her ears, I sang, “Rejoice for the steps… of a righteous man… they are ordered of God, they are ordered of God…. Remember that song, Amy?”

She shook her head.

I kept singing. “In the time of trouble, God will uphold you. God will sustain you. God will preserve you. In the time of trouble, He will lift you up. So rejoice; your steps are ordered of God…. Oh, thank you, Amy. I needed to hear this.”

Amy recounted the story of her transitional job at Radio Shack a few years back. “Remember, I didn’t want to take it because the pay was too low. But it was the perfect place for me, a place to heal.”

“Yes, didn’t you have a really supportive boss there?”

She nodded and told me how she’d regained her confidence there, and how God had then given her an even better job than the one she’d lost.

Back at home a couple of hours later, I sat at my table listening to the first Christmas songs of the season. Just like every other year, my heart thrilled to the wonder of Jesus coming to dwell among us, becoming Emmanuel, God With Us. 

And then I looked up at the collection of scriptures taped to my refrigerator, the ones that got me through the toughest work year ever last year. “Wait for the LORD,” I read aloud. “Be strong and let your heart take courage; yes, wait for the LORD.” (Psalm 27:13-14).

There at my table, with Christmas music in one ear and the faint giggles of Allyson and her two cousins in my other, I felt hope bubbling up deep inside me, a hope spontaneous and delightfully unexpected. I thought about the scripture I'd just read: “Let your heart take courage.” That must mean that my heart wants to be courageous. Yes, of course it does. According to the Apostle Paul, my heart can overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit… if I trust in Him. (Romans 15:13)

Well, I’m learning that it’s a lot harder to trust God when you’re in pain, you’re unemployed, and your bank account is dangerously low. I realize that that is the point. I know that God has allowed all of this for my good and for His ultimate glory when His purpose is fulfilled in me. 

As I said at church this morning to my friend Alicia, who has gone through her own terrifying hard times and come through to the other side, there are some lessons that can’t be learned any other way. How can I learn to rely on God alone if I still think I can rely on myself? 

What I most want to learn through this trial is not to put so much importance on my emotions. I want to stop judging my spiritual walk based on how I feel at any given moment. I know God loves me just the way I am, and I want to learn to do the same. I want to “fix my eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen” (2 Corinthians 4:18). 

Now For The Great...

God has been so faithful to me through these last few months. I could tell you so many stories of divine appointments and sacred echoes, but you wouldn’t have time to read them all; I really need to start writing more regularly again.

I will share just one story, the most recent. Through a friend at my Spanish-speaking church, Palabra Viva, I found a hair stylist who works out of her home. She does a great job and only charges $12.50 for a basic cut, without styling. 

This past Wednesday, the day after my visit to the food pantry, I prayed all the way to her house, asking God to help me trust Him and let go of my fears. For the last couple of miles, happy tears flowed as I sang along with the radio. The lines that moved me most were: “So I will run into the waves / As courage comes to take fear’s place / With perfect love, perfect love.”

“Please, Lord… let your perfect love take fear’s place,” I breathed. “Help me believe.”

The first thing I noticed when Patty opened her door was her broad smile, but then my eyes were drawn to her T-shirt: “FAITH over FEAR.” My heart quickened, and fresh tears shimmered in my vision. “Oh, I needed to see that today,” I told her. “It echoes the message God just gave me through a song. Have you heard ‘What Can Take Away My Hallelujah’ ?”

“I love that song,” she said.

While she snipped at my overgrown locks, we talked about my health struggles and my current dilemma over my career path. Patty shared her own experiences with unemployment and changing career aspirations, and the faithfulness of God.

Like Amy, she encouraged me to surrender my will to God and to trust Him to lead me and provide for me. She assured me that my emotions are normal and urged me not to be too hard on myself. On my way out, we held hands and prayed for one another, and she told me to contact her any time.

That evening, she sent me a text message with a meme that gave me chills. “We are hunted down but never abandoned by God. We get knocked down, but we are not destroyed (2 Corinthians 4:9),” 

“That is a verse from my current memory passage,” I replied. “It’s very special to me.”

“Amen!” she answered.

I marveled at God’s kindness and tender love for me. How kind of Him to bless me with a cheap haircut, a new sister, and a sacred echo to show me that I am still on the path that He has chosen for me, that my steps truly are ordered by Him.

I look forward to sharing with you whatever I find around the bend.

Alight With Joy

I'm sorry for my long silence. In my last post, I described my search for joy. Since then, I've been so occupied with relishing my joy that I haven't had the time to write. You would think that a person on sabbatical would have plenty of time to write, but that has not been the case. Even now,  I couldn't possibly describe all the beautiful things that have come to me each day, so I will tell you just my favorite story. And then I will show you a few pictures of my favorite moments.

Ever since I answered God's call to quit my corporate job about three years ago to return to teaching, I had not devoted the time to memorize any new scripture passages, nor even to study my existing ones very often. I meditated on scriptures daily in my classroom because it was the only way to keep my sanity, let alone my hope. But I missed my scripture memorization terribly.

For the last couple of months, I've wanted to begin a new passage, but I couldn't choose among so many beautiful scriptures that God had given me these last months through sermons, through cards and messages from friends, through songs in English and Spanish, and even through Uber drivers from all over the world.

Because I had felt so utterly alone, I'd thought to find a passage about angels ministering to me, but somehow that didn't feel right. On Thursday, October 3, I was walking and talking with Jesus in the park as I do virtually every morning. As I drank in the sight of the graceful trees arching over my favorite part of the trail, I reminisced over all the times I had walked this path with my Beloved. "You shared my hardest times and my most beautiful joys," I whispered... because it was a beautiful morning and I wasn't the only person enjoying the park trails.

"You know," I went on, "I really want to start memorizing another passage. It would be so helpful for my mental focus, and you know how I delight in your Word, Beloved. What passage should I-"

In that familiar way that He has, Jesus answered my question before the words had left my mouth. A verse flitted through my mind: These light and momentary trials are achieving for us a glory that far outweighs them all.

"Oh, that's perfect!" I exclaimed. "I know that is exactly what's happening to me right now. Thank you for allowing this trial that feels so endless. I know there is no other way you could help me grow so much in my faith."

I glanced up at the tree with two knobby protuberances that always remind me of pendulous breasts and the ghost of a laugh bubbled up inside me. I walked a few paces in silence and then continued my prayer aloud. "You have always confirmed every memory passage for me, for all these years. I feel sure this is the one, but I will wait for you to confirm it before I begin. I can't wait to see what creative way you use this time."

As I turned back for home, I felt God telling me to send two cards--one thank-you and one sympathy card. I obeyed His instructions immediately because I was still pretty forgetful at that point. [Who am I kidding? I've always been forgetful.]

I went straight to the desk where I used to spend so many hours working from home. There in the old-fashioned cubbies were two cards with no envelopes. I rummaged through all the other cubbies and unearthed a couple of mismatched envelopes that would almost fit. As I pulled them out, my eyes fell on a black composition notebook that had been resting on top of my desk for months. I'd been meaning to reread my gratitude journals so I could remember God's faithfulness to me and have faith that He would continue to be faithful; I snatched up the journal and took in the dates: April to December of 2018.

I made myself write out and mail the cards before I cracked open the journal to a random page. Can you imagine my astonishment when I saw, in my own hand, a reference to the verse I'd just quoted in the park? I'd written about a Francis Chan sermon, about fear, that I'd listened to while grading a stack of tests. "If I can remember that all of my trials are so momentary, then I can rest and be at peace knowing that my rejoicing in heaven will last an eternity. Why get worked up over something so temporary?"

On the next page was a story about my dad making dinner for me after a particularly trying day at school. "He told me about his prayers for me, and said he [believed] the enemy [had been] attacking because a breakthrough [was] coming," I wrote.

Tears filled my eyes. A breakthrough really had been around the corner. I'd written those entries on October 8, 2018, in the middle of my deepest struggles last school year. Just two months later, I found the strength and hope to make it through the long spring semester when I spent Christmas break doing a mental detox from negative thinking. At that time, I blogged about a seed of light that God revealed to me in the Spirit. He told me that the seed was sprouting below the surface of my mind, in the darkness of the rich soil, and that one day it would burst through the ground and shine.

I recognized in that moment, as I read my own journal, that the seed of light was even then breaking through the surface after the two darkest months of my entire life. My heart pounded with wonder. "God, you've never confirmed a passage so quickly," I breathed. "Thank you for light in my darkness."

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.

Let Go of Your Agenda

Remember The Great Pumpkin Fire of 2010? Well, last week, I had another pumpkin pie adventure that was a lot less dangerous but much more frustrating....

It was my second time to buy sugar pie pumpkins, but the first two I'd used to make pumpkin milkshakes, pumpkin mini donuts, pumpkin oatmeal, and pumpkin pancakes. The second two sat on my counter for about three weeks because Ethan had declared that I couldn't make any more pumpkin things until I made some pumpkin pie. Ain't nobody got time for 'dat.

Last Thursday, I'd planned to take Allyson clothes shopping, but we were way late with dinner, and I didn't want to keep her up. To ease her disappointment, I suggested that we'd make the pie instead--because surely that wouldn't take up the whole evening. (What was I thinking?)

While we ate dinner, I roasted the two miniature pumpkins whole. After the dishes, I ground the pastry flour and whirled up the ingredients from my no-fail whole-wheat crust recipe in the food processor. I formed the dough into a disk and let Allyson cut it in half with the bench knife. I put half in the fridge and tucked the other half in the freezer for next week's pot pie.

Next I washed up the food processor bowl and pureed the now cool pumpkin flesh. I guess it was around this time that Allyson alerted me to a disaster with the kitty. "Mama! CiCi found a noodle and she's eating it."

I wiped some sweat from my brow with the back of my wrist, keeping my pumpkin-slick hands away from my forehead. Darn it! Why hadn't I picked up that bow-tie noodle that Allyson had dropped under the table during dinner? I sighed heavily. "Well, take it away from her."

"I'm afraid to. She's growling at me," Allyson called from the living room.

I smiled. A kitten growling? My daughter was obviously exaggerating.

"It's gone. She ate it."

"Well, one noodle won't hurt her."

"It's as big as her whole stomach," Allyson pointed out.

"Well, nothing we can do about it now."

While the crust chilled in preparation for rolling out, I prayed and read the Bible with Allyson and Ethan, smiling at my own efficiency and time management skills. But my smile fizzled when I looked at the clock afterward. It was now approaching 9 o'clock, and we still had to roll out the crust, prebake it, mix the filling, and bake the pie for over an hour.

"I'm afraid you won't get to eat any tonight," I told Allyson. "Maybe I can just finish it tomorrow."

"No!" Ethan called from his room. "You said we could have pie tonight."

I heaved another sigh. No way I was making my 10:30 bedtime this time. Maybe I could skip the pre-baking; whether or not this step is actually necessary seems to be the subject of vehement debates online.

I sent my sister Melody, the pie master, a text. "Do you prebake your pumpkin pie crust?"

No answer. I thought back to the last successful crust I'd made. I was pretty sure I'd prebaked that one. Better stick to the plan.

"Okay, time to roll out the dough," I said.

Allyson followed me back to the kitchen. "Can I help?"

"Sure, baby," I said. "Just let me get it rolled out. You know pie crust is tricky."

"I can do it," she said, taking the wooden rolling pin from me.

Reminding myself that this pie wasn't going to be in the state fair like my Melody's famous pumpkin pie, I stood back and watched Allyson struggle with the cold, stiff dough. "Don't make it too thin," I said. "Make sure you get it even."

Wonder of wonders, the crust turned out great! It was soft and pliable, but firm enough to hold its shape. And unlike the other times, there was plenty of overhang around the pie pan. We worked together to trim the excess dough and roll it under, and then we crimped it all around between our index fingers and our thumbs. Oh, it was a masterpiece. I didn't take a picture, so you'll have to take my word for it.

Following some instructions I'd found online, I made an egg-white wash and let Allyson paint it on with a pastry brush. "Gently," I warned, clasping my hands anxiously. "Not too thick!"

After we'd poked holes all around the crust, I carefully lined it with some foil and poured a handful of barley grains on top to weight it down. No risk of a parchment fire this time! As I slid the crust into the oven, I smiled smugly. "We're getting pretty good at this," I said, squeezing Allyson's shoulder.

While the crust baked, we mixed up the filling ingredients, dirtying the food processor bowl for the third time.

Now I got an answer from Melody: no, she doesn't pre-bake her crusts. Oh well.

Sixteen minutes later, I pulled the delightfully fragrant crust from the oven and gently peeled back the foil... and half the crust along with it! With the foil off, I saw that the beautifully crimped edges had slid right down the sides of the pan.

 "Oh no!!" I wailed. "I don't understand. I followed the instructions exactly. The pie is ruined!"

At this point, we had eaten a lot of the botched crust.

"What will we do?" Allyson asked.

"I'll make the other half of the dough," I said. "And this time I won't prebake it." Stupid Internet instructions, I thought. But something was starting to come together in my mind. I pulled out my cookbook and compared the whole-wheat pastry crust recipe I'd used to another crust recipe I'd looked at to remind myself how to make dough in the food processor.

Uh oh.

The food processor recipe, which used 75 percent more flour, called for 3/4 a pound of butter--three sticks. But the recipe I'd made only needed 3/4 a cup of butter--one and a half sticks. I'd gotten the two recipes confused! No wonder our crust had been so supple. And no wonder it had slid to the bottom of the pan in a greasy heap. (And no wonder it tasted so yummy.)

"Argh!" I cried. "I can't use the other half of the dough. It has too much butter, too."

"What will we do?" Allyson repeated.

"We won't do anything. You're going to bed. I'll to have to start all over. I'll make the dough tonight and roll it out tomorrow. Go to your room and get your jammies on. I'm going to grind some more flour and then I'll be right in."

Alone in the kitchen, I took a few deep breaths. I'd wasted a whole evening and had nothing to show for it. And now I'd have to stay up a lot longer. If only we'd gone to Penney's instead! Could I possibly be any more frustrated?

Just then, Allyson's shrill cry interrupted my pity party.

"Mama! CiCi found another noodle. You come take it from her."

I trudged into the living room, ready to show Allyson how to show a 1.5-pound kitty who's boss.

"She's under the chair," Allyson said, pointing. "And she's growling again."

I knelt and peered under the chair. "You come out of there, CiCi," I commanded.

"rrrrrr-rrrr" she answered.

I gave her rump a little shove. "Get out of there."

"rrr-RRR."

"Give me that!" I said, reaching for the noodle protruding from her mouth.

CHOMP!

"Owwww!" I howled. "She bit me!"

I squeezed my ring finger to see if it would bleed. A large, crimson drop blossomed on the side of my fingertip, and another tiny bead appeared on the top of the same fingertip.

CiCi licked her chops. There was now no sign of the noodle.

"You bad, naughty kitty!" I said. But I had to admit that she had warned me. Unlike Allyson, I hadn't had the sense to heed her threats.

Here's the sweet little culprit.

I scrounged up the second-to-last Band-Aid, doctored my throbbing finger with Neosporin, and tucked in my sous-chef and her vicious kitten, who sleeps in a carrier next to her bed.

And then I trudged back to my wreck of a kitchen and whipped up another crust. As I worked, I went over the evening's trials in my head. But then something unexpected happened. I had to smile as I thought of the satisfaction Allyson and I had shared in making that beautiful, ill-fated crust. This was no wasted evening!

"It's not about the pie," I thought.

A Walk In the Park
Three days later, God reminded me of my pie adventure while we were walking in the park before church. That morning I'd been excited over a whole hour for my quiet time, but then I couldn't decide how to spend it. When I asked God what I should do, I just kept thinking of the trees in the park, and how long it had been since I'd gone on a Sabbath walk.

"But it's cold out," I said. "Can't we talk in here?"

My head turned to the gorgeous crepe myrtle just outside my kitchen window, and I felt a tugging in my heart. "Okay, I'll go for a walk," I said, "as long as it isn't raining."

I opened the front door and squinted out at the front yard. No rain that I could see.

Layered up with all the gear from my Three-Day Walk, when I'd walked 60 miles in temperatures just over freezing, I headed out the door--only to discover that it was indeed raining. It was just a heavy mist, but my feet were already feeling damp in my Five-Finger shoes. I hurried back inside.

"God, why did you tell me to go walking if it was raining?" I asked, feeling a stab of disappointment.

Just then, I thought of all the rainy walks I'd taken with my mother-in-law up in Vancouver, where it rains practically every day in the winter. Sandi always says that you can't let a little rain stop you from getting your exercise.

So changed into some boots and dug out the pink pancho that I'd never worn on the Three-Day Walk. Oh, I was a sight in my sweat pants, casual boots, long coat, knit hap with flaps, and pink pancho. But it didn't matter because nobody else was crazy enough to be out in the rain. And I think God thought I was beautiful.

We had a great walk. Some of the trees were still green, so vivid against the gray sky, while others were bright with fall colors. I had to pause on the foot bridge to watch the rain drops making interlocking circles in the creek. "Oh, oh," I said. "Thank you."

As we walked, I told God about my frustration lately with being so busy. "I feel overwhelmed sometimes," I said. "And there are so many things that don't get done, important things. Like when I showed up at Dad's birthday party last week without a card or a present. But what could I have done differently last weekend? What could I drop that I haven't already dropped? Should I stop getting together with friends?"

Tears trickled down my cheeks. "I need your help with this. You know I'm no good at organization. Show me how to make my time go farther, like you do with my money when I put you first."

I walked on in silence for a few minutes. In my favorite part of the park, where the branches make a canopy over the path, I heard God's answer. "You need to let go of your agenda."

Yes.

"I need to relax," I said. "I need to rest in you and accept that I can't do it all. I can't be perfect."

I thought of my "wasted" evening, with its hidden treasure of fun with my daughter. I thought of Mary and Martha--how Jesus said that in spending time at His feet, Mary chose the more important thing despite Martha's legitimate need for help in the kitchen.

"Show me what's really important," I prayed. "Help me let go of all my expectations and let you have my whole day, each day."

Such a weight was lifted from my shoulders. I realized then that I never have to be disappointed about what I can't accomplish, whether that's an unmade pie or an unmopped floor. As long as I surrender my whole day to God, I can be sure that the important things will get done. And the rest of it doesn't matter. It's not about the pie.

As we headed back home, a large, green tree next to the stream caught my attention. My latest scripture memory passage bubbled up in my heart:

Blessed is the man who trusts in the LORD, 

whose confidence is in him.

For he will be like a tree planted by the water,

that extends its roots by a stream.

It does not fear when heat comes; its leaves are always green.

It has no worries in a year of drought and never fails to bear fruit.

(Jeremiah 17:7-8)

I grinned over the way God had confirmed this passage for me just that week, even though I hadn't asked because this was just Bible study homework. After I'd copied the verses onto blank business cards, I closed my eyes and pressed a hand to my chest. "Help me trust you like that, Lord. I want to be like that tree, with green leaves that display your splendor."

I flipped on the radio then, just in time to hear "like a tree planted by the water... roots going deep... leaves always green." (It was a song I'd heard only a few times, and I can't remember now who sings it.)

I was so surprised I almost jumped. And then I laughed with delight. I'd never received a confirmation so quickly before!

Now, a few days later, I saw why God had given me this passage. I'd always thought of droughts as trials; I know from experience that troubles can make our roots go down deep, deep to the living water. But now I saw that my drought is this constant busyness. It's a dryness that comes from being too busy and needing more time with God. When I get overwhelmed, that's the time to send my roots down deeper, to drink the living water and thrive.

"You tied it all together for me, didn't you?" I said with wonder. "I can trust you with this season. You're taking care of everything, and I don't have to be anxious. I'm going to bear even more fruit now, as long as I keep letting you make the agenda."

If we had more time, I'd tell you about the rest of that amazing Sabbath, which went almost nothing like I'd envisioned but was so much better than anything I could have planned. I will say this... when I went to church last night, one of the first things I heard was, "Tonight we're letting go of the agenda."

I felt a thrill at that sacred echo. I'm so excited to see what God's agenda holds for me.

P.S. I finally made the pie on Saturday. The crust wasn't nearly so pretty as the first one, but it held its shape. The pie was delicious!

P.S.S. I'm saving up lots of cat stories, but for now I'll just share a few pictures...

I think it's love.

My sister Amy syringe feeding CiCi

It's Already Here

Oh, I've missed you! So many stories to tell, and never any time to tell them. I have a few minutes tonight, and I'm not sure yet which stories will make the cut.... 

In my last entry, I shared my one-word goal for 2014: Forget. In the last few weeks, God has been showing me the secret to attaining that goal.

In late January, I started a new Bible study called Calm My Anxious Heart, by Linda Dillow. It's been well over a year since I've done a ladies' Bible study, and I'd forgotten the sweet anticipation of cracking open a new study for Day One. But it all came back to me.

I read these great tips on finding contentment:

• Never allow yourself to complain about anything--not even the weather. (Upon reading this one, I immediately felt convicted over complaining about my severe allergy attack, both in my words and in my very grumpy thoughts.) 
• Never picture yourself in any other circumstances or someplace else.
• Never compare your lot with another's. 
• Never allow yourself to wish this or that had been otherwise. (How?)
• Never dwell on tomorrow--remember that tomorrow is God's, not ours. 

I was simultaneously inspired and discouraged. How could anyone attain these goals?

Day two's homework gave me a clue. Our assignment was to memorize Philippians 4:11-13:

...for I have learned to be content whatever the circumstances. I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want. I can do all this through him who gives me strength.

Being the compulsive rule-follower that I am, of course I immediately began memorizing the passage. But a tinge of disappointment shadowed my excitement over learning a passage that so clearly fits in with my resolve to forget my disappointments.

Over the last few months--many months--I'd been idly asking God what my next memory passage should be. I've lost track of how long it's been since God revealed a new passage for me to memorize, but I'm sure it's been at least two years. I hadn't been praying fervently, just asking and forgetting about it and then asking again.

So here was my next memory passage, and it was a great one. But... In the past, God was the one to give me the assignment, not a stranger named Linda Dillow. And in the past, my memory passages came with one or more external confirmations, what I now call sacred echoes. My shoulders slumped just a little as I studied verse 11 on its little scripture card. So this time, I wouldn't get any confirmations. It would just be a homework assignment, nothing more.

Still, I couldn't help feeling a thrill as the first phrase began imprinting itself on my heart: "for I have learned." I can learn contentment! It's not impossible to attain.

That evening I had five minutes to read over my solitary dinner, just before rushing off to Celebrate Recovery. It seemed rather pointless to read for five minutes, but I felt almost compelled to pick up Boundaries, a life-changing book that I hadn't read in several weeks.

I read about Paul's unanswered prayer for God to remove his "thorn in the flesh" (2 Corinthians 12:7-10). Although God did not grant all of his wishes, "he met Paul's needs to the point that Paul felt content and full."

Guess what the next paragraph was? A block quote of Philippians 4:12-13. "Cool!" I thought. "Neat how Cloud connected the passage on contentment with boundaries." He said we shouldn't give people everything they want, but we should try to give them what they need, which may lead them to contentment.

Now wouldn't you think I'd have recognized that God had just given me my beloved Scripture Memory Confirmation? Yes, but you'd be wrong. I was so busy contemplating how contentment fit with boundaries that I didn't even notice it.

At Celebrate Recovery, I sheepishly confessed that my struggle that week was trying to be content despite my allergies. "Every time I sneeze," I said, "I say, 'Thank you for the mountain cedar, God!' But so far it isn't working very well." We all laughed, agreeing that if my deepest struggle is dealing with allergies, I've come a long, long way. But I was serious. I wanted to learn to be content in any and every situation, even my allergies.

By some miracle, I was ready for bed by 10:00. But as I slipped into my fleece jammies, I remembered that I needed to look up an address so I could get my in-laws' Christmas cards in the mail the next morning. (Yes, I was sending Christmas cards in late January. That's my life these days.)

So I got onto Facebook to look up a message with my sister-in-law's address. And you can guess what happened next. At 10:40 or so, I shut down the browser window and literally slapped myself upside the head. "Sarah Louise!" I scolded. "For once you could have gone to bed early, but no. You had to waste 40 minutes on Facebook."

While I was at it, I decided to check my email, another risky move. But I'm so glad I did! My friend Kynna had sent me an email at 10:24 PM, apropos of nothing as far as I could tell. It was a Chinese legend about how only God knows whether anything that happens to you is for good or bad. At the end of the story was someone's commentary. My sleepy eyes opened wide when I read this in the second to last paragraph: "But the Apostle Paul wrote in Philippians 4 that he had learned to be content, even happy, in all circumstances."

I broke out in goosebumps. That made three times in one day that I'd come across the same passage from Philippians 4! And this last time was in a message I wasn't supposed to have seen because I'd wanted to be asleep.

I fired off an ecstatic response to Kynna, explaining that God had just used to her to confirm my latest memory passage. In her response, she replied to the burning question that I hadn't asked: what had made her send that email to me? She said she'd been telling a mutual friend about the Chinese legend and had promised to look it up and email it to her. And just when she'd been ready to hit Send, she felt God telling her to send it to me, too.

I laughed out loud, and I had the distinct impression that God was sharing both my amusement and my joy. Just because my new memory passage had been given as a homework assignment instead of through some mystical revelation, I had assumed that He wouldn't confirm that this was the passage He'd chosen for me. But even though I hadn't asked, He did confirm it. And when I didn't notice it the first time, He kept me up (on Facebook, of all things) long enough to see the second confirmation that He'd prompted Kynna to send.

How does he DO that? I smiled in the darkness for a long, long time. Oh, how well He knows me. And oh, how He loves me. Truly, I am my Beloved's, and my Beloved is mine.

Since then, I have meditated several times a day on the new passage, and I can already feel the Word bearing fruit. You know how I've written over and over about something good just around the bend? Just last week, I realized something that made me weep for joy. I'm no longer waiting for something wonderful to happen that will make happy, though I'm sure God has planned many wonderful things for me.

No, I'm no longer waiting because my joy is ALREADY HERE. And here's the coolest part. Nothing has changed in my circumstances. But I've changed. Hallelujah! This is what contentment is about.

The great thing about contentment is that, although it doesn't depend on happiness, it tends to bring happiness along with it. I guess contentment opens up your eyes and your heart to all the little joys around you.

For example, recently the kids had a day off school due to icy weather conditions. I let Allyson sleep ridiculously late because I was working. In sharp contrast to our typical school mornings, I woke her slowly, mainly by raining kisses on her face and arms and running my fingers carefully through her tangled hair.

As she slowly opened her eyes, she gazed up at me with the same look of adoration that she'd had back when she was nursing. Just like she did back then, she reached up and touched my cheek.

And I was filled with such a sweet joy. Ahhhh! I felt my heart stretching with it.

June 2006

It's not only Allyson. More and more lately, Ethan has been doing something shocking. He's been... talking to me. As if I were a regular person and not just his mother. It's very enjoyable! We talk about unimportant things like Arwen's antics, and about deep things like the meaning of time. Yesterday he astonished me by comparing the present to zero on the number line. He said the present, like zero, doesn't really have a quantity, that it's just the transition point between future and past. It made my head spin, and I loved it.

Ethan Back When He Always Enjoyed My Company
First Day of Kindergarten - 2002

So there you have it. I think that's enough for one night, though I haven't even told you about the hermit crabs yet. That will have to wait for another day.

My Life is a Book

Here's a story I've been looking forward to telling you since the day I started this blog. It's the next chapter in my love story with Bill. (Did you even remember that we had a love story?)

In the last chapter, I told you what I endured in order to get a clean bill of health so that we could start trying to conceive. It was such a relief to have the waiting behind me at last, and so exciting to wonder if this could be the month. During this time, I was memorizing Psalm 139, and I was in awe of the timing. As I slowly worked through the chapter, verse by verse, it seemed that the verse I was currently memorizing almost always was the perfect one for what I was experiencing at that moment.

Here is an email that I sent to my Thursday group back in 2004 that captures my initial anticipation...

4/9/04

I was having my morning break today, meditating as usual on the SAME passage I've been studying for months, when I saw something new.

As you know, now that I have passed the colonoscopy, we are free to start trying for a baby, and we are, though Bill doesn't technically know yet. (He's ready, so that's not an issue.) I quietly stopped taking my pill this month, and the knowledge that we could be making a baby is a precious little secret in my heart.

Well, I was meditating on my verses and I stopped on Ps 139:13: "For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother's womb." I wish you could have seen the little smile on my face. I think it must have looked like Mona Lisa's smile, a private smile over a secret only she knew. It seemed so incredibly...INCREDIBLE and WONDERFUL that at this VERY moment, God could be knitting together a baby in my womb.

So I talked to God about that. I asked him for his perfect timing and his will, even if his will is no baby at all. At this moment, at least, I am feeling perfectly at peace with the waiting and the uncertainty because I know that God ordained all my days, and he knows what's best for me. I wish I could keep this moment forever.

Anyway, I thought I would share. Please be in prayer with me that I will continue to seek God's will in this and not become impatient like I usually do about everything else in my life.

Oh, how well I knew myself! Fast forward a year...

Here I Am on My 35th Birthday - April 2005

5/18/05

Hello everyone. I'm missing you a lot this week. I've been feeling sad, a deep sense of grief, really, as I've been trying to let go of the dream of having a baby. I just don't want to hope any more. It hurts too much when I start my period each month. This past month I didn't hope at all, and it still hurt when I started my period yesterday.

With each passing month (15 of them now), I feel more certain that Bill and I will never share that joy together. I have tried so hard to honestly give up that desire because I know that God's plan is best for me. Maybe we will have a baby, and if we do it will be at the perfect time, according to his plan. Sometimes I think I am at peace with just asking God for his will continually, and trying not to decide for myself what I want.

The problem with that is the not knowing. I keep thinking, "If I could just KNOW what God's plan is, it would be so much better." If I KNEW there would be no baby, I would grieve, and I would go on and be thankful for what I do have. And if I knew that in x months or years we would have a baby, I would spend the time preparing to be the best mother I could be, and just enjoying the anticipation. But I don't know what's going to happen, so I keep preparing for the worst. I keep telling myself how it wouldn't be so bad not to have a baby, how wonderful our life is already. I can almost believe that until I see a commercial or a TV program or a woman on the street who is pregnant or has a new baby, and then I just feel this deep sense of loss, thinking "I can't have that. That's for other people, not for me." Then I feel guilty for not being thankful and joyful about God's plan for my life.

All that to say... Today I was studying Psalm 139 for perhaps the 200th time (maybe more!), and I got something I hadn't seen before: Ps 139:15-16 "My frame was not hidden from you when I was made in the secret place. When I was woven together in the depths of the earth, your eyes saw my unformed body. All the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be."

What I saw today when I quoted that scripture was your book. When God ordained the days for my life, before I was even born, he wrote them in His book. It's a book about me and my days, but it's HIS BOOK. I'm not supposed to know what is in the book, only to know the Author of the book. Since he planned all my days, I know that it's going to be a wonderful, incredible, awesome book. But I can't skip to the end without reading the whole thing. I have to savor it page by page, enjoying the process of getting to the end of the book.

I want to approach my life the way I approach a really good book. I love to savor a good book. I'm always dying to know what will happen next, but I never "cheat." I enjoy seeing the plot unfold slowly. If it's an author I love, I know from the start that I'm going to enjoy myself.

Obviously God is the best author you could find. I want to feel that same way about my life. I guess if there is not a baby in his plan, then I don't need to grieve that loss. Because whatever He has planned is what is best for me. He KNOWS! So I need to have joy in knowing that he cares for me and has planned the best life there can possibly be for me. He is going to teach me incredible truths along the way, and he is going to let me experience joy and sadness and longing and everything else that makes this life so rich and amazing.

Girls, I GET IT!! At this moment, I really get it. Please pray that God will continue to teach me this lesson and that it can be mine to keep. Pray that he will remind me of this moment over and over, whenever I need to hear it. Thank you.

I can't wait to hug everyone.

Love,

Sarah Louise

Bill and I (Far Left) at His Brother Trevor's Wedding, Same Month as the Preceding Email Message

As so often happens in my life, once I finally learned the lesson, God soon gave me the desire of my heart. But that’s another story.