On Stepping in Kung-Fu-Fu

Courtesy J. Schuler

I'm usually so careful. I counsel others about their 'snark quotient'. I don't post political articles or cartoons. I know I'm going to get on at least 50% of the population's last nerve one way or the other. I don't write social commentaries on abortion or gay rights issues even if I have an opinion. I'm a fraidy cat, and you know us. We play it safe.

Or, at least I thought I did until I hit the share button and stepped in a big ole pile of Kung-fu-fu. From the time the cartoon popped up on my Facebook wall until I had read and hit 'share' was maybe 2.6 seconds.

Courtesy B. Creasy

I was belly-laughing. It had to do with the economy and how it had gotten so tight that a certain segment of the business population had laid off some senators. What's not to laugh at? I even posted, “This is funny. I don't care who you are.” 

 I forgot that the 'who' in “who you are” might just be a hard-working family employed by that very industry – for over forty years as a matter-of-fact. My friend spoke up and chastened me. I deserved it. I offered sincere mea culpa as I gulped my heart back down into my chest. I deleted the post faster than I would have let go of a hot horse shoe.

In the intervening days since, I have thought about how one fella's light-hearted chuckle is another person's pain. When we moved to a house near a place called Strange Road, my friends got a huge chuckle out of the coincidence. We all laughed at my expense. It was safe to do so because I have it on the good authority of several medical professionals that I'm not strange at all.

Me - on dental drugs

So, what's not to laugh about when I post a comic postcard or cartoon about being crazy. After that pile of Kung-fu-fu was cleaned up as best I could, I realized I have friends who are dealing with diagnosed mental illness among close family members.

I'm thinking my echoing laughter rings kinda hollow when my tongue-in-cheek jokes bounce over to their walls. Maybe on a good day they belly-laugh right along with me. On a bad day, not so much. I'm hitting the share button a little bit slower these days, lemme tell ya. If Jay Leno and his peers have a 3 second delay, mine is more like ten times that. Oh, sure. I'll post another funny. I'll just be more mindful.

Political cartoons and discussions are all the rage as the election approaches. I'm an equal opportunity chuckler. I guess that happens when you vote a split ticket every chance you get. I laugh behind the privacy of this screen. That's as far as it goes.

Courtesy Mad Penguin Creative

As the political fall out of the Chick-Fil-A furor continued rising to a fevered frenzy, I thought about my pile of Kung-fu-fu. I thought about the election cycle and the endless snarky posts that circulate from both sides of the political spectrum. I thought about my silence and how that silence may echo or go unnoticed. I wondered what God required of me and knew it did not involve political cartoons on Facebook nor social media commentary.

Then, it hit me. I had been given my marching orders centuries ago:

The first thing I want you to do is pray. Pray every way you know how, for everyone you know. Pray especially for rulers and their governments to rule well, so we can be quietly about our business of living simply, in humble contemplation. This is the way our Savior God wants us to live. (1 Timothy 2: 1-3 The Message)

But he's already made it plain how to live, what to do, what God is looking for in men and women. It's quite simple: Do what is fair and just to your neighbor, be compassionate and loyal in your love, And don't take yourself too seriously— take God seriously. (Micah 6: 8 The Message)

It's easy to get caught up in the furor of the moment in this fraidy cat world. Before we know it, we've shared a little bit of hurtful humor or a whole lot of snark because we failed to activate our three, or thirty, second delay. We've forgotten that God, in his mercy, told us to be merciful and to pray. 

 

Courtesy Mad Penguin Creative

God didn't invent social media as the avenue to perfect political and social commentary. His avenue existed long before the rotary dial phone, but it was always a hot wire to Heaven. It's called prayer.

So, in this politically charged season in a politically charged and fraidy cat world, join me and take a deep breath. Decide that we will not practice road rage via the avenue of social media. Let's remember the marching orders we received centuries ago. Take God more seriously. If our prayers are outnumbered by our social media rants, cartoons, and posters, we have failed in that directive.

Lord, help us live up to your high calling. God bless our leaders. Convict and direct them. Minister to and nourish them. You establish rulers. You chasten your people. May the name of the Lord be praised.

Courtesy B. Creasy 2010

2 Chronicles 2 Chronicles 7: 14 (Amplified Bible)

If My people, who are called by My name, shall humble themselves, pray, seek, crave, and require of necessity My face and turn from their wicked ways, then will I hear from heaven, forgive their sin, and heal their land.

Spreading a Little Sunshine

It is almost the end of two arduous weeks with an even more arduous one looming ahead. The heat wave undulating over the earth has left me feeling like I have been through a pasta maker. Picture Flat Stanley's grandmother. My heart and soul feel even flatter. I know friends, faithful friends, far and near are praying for me.

I messaged a friend about the prayers going up and how I needed to hear from God. Even as we typed back and forth, a note was landing in my email inbox. A note from a stranger. I'll tell you more about that note later. I have to percolate on it a while longer.

As I was absorbing the message from the stranger, I saw a friend's name pop up on my sidebar. Oh! She had a new blog post up on her site, Journeying Sue. I hit on it faster than a fly on watermelon at a picnic. 

A friend had nominated her for a Sunshine Award which is awarded to “bloggers who positively and creatively inspire others in the blogosphere”. My friend Sue and I met at the conference I mention so often (Titus 2:1). I mention it frequently because it has been pivotal in my life. Sue is one of those pivots. Meeting her was to experience instantaneous and permanent friendship. She is the definition of sunshine, and I smiled thinking how fitting for another friend to label her just so.

Courtesy Mad Penguin Creative

Award winners are asked to nominate ten other bloggers who inspire others. It's a fun way to create a blog roll when you get right down to it. I was excited to see who would inspire my inspiring friend. Are you laughing already? Yes. There was my blog listed among her top 10 faves. I just LOL'd. Not to be cliché.

You see, she is an army nurse practitioner that has served 'in theater'. That's fancy talk for in a combat zone. She has 6 kiddos and a spouse still on active duty. She homeschools, and she blogs. She is in triathlons for goodness sakes! She is an iron woman to my fraidy cat. How in the world I inspire her is anybody's guess, especially mine! But, I love her to pieces and can't thank her enough for being the 1-2 punch of encouragement in my life today.

Let me introduce you to MY favorite blogs worthy of the Sunshine Award in their own rights. The weekend is coming. Stay in out of the heat, and peruse my little neighborhood of the blogging universe?

1. Learning Table is presently nominated by Circle of Moms as one of the top 25 Teacher Moms of 2012. (Drop by and vote for her?) She is my IRL friend and sister of the heart.
2. Eternal Instants is one of the sweetest blogs I've seen. One look at her photography and companion blog posts and you'll be hooked! 
    
3. The Daisyhead is one of my blogging mentors. You won't want to miss her series, Our Sick Babies. She blogs about crocheting, green living, homeschooling and more. She's like the Target of blogs - so much under one roof! She taught me how to compost the lazy way!
   
   
4. 

   Courtesy Mad Penguin Creative

    Deeper With Jesus in Rhode Island is the reason I nearly quit blogging. Lori's words are so compelling I feel there is simply nothing left to say. If you need to drink deeply from the well of living water, she has the cup.
5. The Budget Maven is a young lady who ignored the differences in our ages and adopted me as her friend. Her blog has won awards two years in a row at the Blue Ridge Mountain Christian Writers Conference. For good reason, I'm sure you'll see.
   
   
6. Beth Pensinger is another young lady who stole my heart when she compared me to her beloved aunt. She has a heart for young 20/30-somethings and is working on a book that will speak to many. 
    
7. Amber Howard Massey has a heart for horses and the people who ride them. She is working on a devotional book, derived from her blog. I love her concept of teaching spiritual lessons via her riding experiences. 
    

8. 

   Courtesy Mad Penguin Creative

   Meet Penny is another of my blogging mentors. She is a tour de force of homsechooling info, couponing info, freebies, ebooks and too many more projects to name. She is both a Pinterest and blogging award winner. 
    
9.   Lovin My Crazy Life details the ups and downs of life as a mom. She maintains a vibrant sense of humor despite the challenges of  her son's autism and related learning struggles. 
   
   

   1. 
      

      Jennifer A. James is one of the kindest, most thoughtful people I've met. Her blog echos hear heart as she encourages homeschooling moms.

Courtesy Mad Penguin Creative

Now for 10 things about me: My favorite color is blue. My favorite animal is the leafy sea horse. I have no favorite number. (Who makes up these Q's???) If you know me, you know my favorite drink is hot chocolate...even when it is 107F in the shade. Facebook over twitter any day. Good movie vs good book unless I have downtime. My passion – to be God's head cheerleader. Getting vs giving gifts bcz I find it hard to receive. Favorite day is any day I do something out of the ordinary and get out of the house. Hey, I homeschool. I don't get out much! ;-) Favorite flowers are hydrangeas, calla lilies, and zinnias.

Courtesy B. Creasy 2010

I am so grateful for you, my fraidy cat friends. I am equally grateful for my blogging community. Every time this fraidy cat gets ready to throw in the towel, one of these bloggers comes to my rescue. I hope you'll thank them for encouraging me to keep doing what I do . . . even when I'm not sure you are out there! Love you long and strong. See you soon?

Dear God? (Update of 12/21/11)

Courtesy D. Horrocks

Many of you have been exceedingly kind to pass word along regarding my close friend's family adoption journey. I am now free to share that when they adopted 2 boys and a little girl from Liberia, the little girl arrived in a life threatening battle with Tuberculosis. As you know, that disease affects the lungs. However, if not treated appropriately, it can migrate to the bones. In this case, it had done so and caused serious malformation of her spinal column.

 
The damage was so severe that her spinal cord should have been severed before she arrived to live with her US family. She had major surgery within the first few months in the states. The surgery required that she be operated on from prone and supine positions during a very, very long day. She was in the hospital for most of 2 months, was in a wheelchair, and wore a 'halo' while her spine fused in place. 
 
She survived to thrive and has met all her developmental milestones. She has been in a wedding. She's made trips to Maine with her family where they play in the lake and tromp around in the woods. She is as irrepressible as her life journey indicates. 
 

Courtesy D. Horrocks

I have permission to share an edited note which I received today regarding her current medical challenge. If you have been kind enough to share her story via Facebook, email, etc, I ask that you would again do so when you see this update. In this Christmas season, may you all be blessed for your ongoing prayers for her family of 8 as they face another monumental challenge. Here is my little friend's story in her mom's own words:


We are trusting that God will move through those that call his name great. We are trusting that he will come to our aid for our strength is growing weak. Almost three weeks ago, our daughter came to my bedroom and showed me a large mass on her neck. We called our doctor who said bring her in Monday morning. When he saw the lump, he told me thought it may be her Tuberculosis coming back. 
 
He ordered a CT scan for the following day which ruled out Lymphoma but not Tuberculosis. We then went to a specialist who also thought it was re-emerging TB. He sent us to a Pediatric Infectious Disease specialist for a two hour appointment. More bloodwork and xrays followed with several diagnoses in mind to rule out. 

Courtesy D. Horrocks

They decided to start treating for TB while we awaiting a formal diagnosis to get ahead of things if it was, in fact, TB. We breathed a sigh of relief and made plans to alter our family routines till she responded to treatment. 

Thursday of that week, we got the wonderful word that her chest xray was clear with NO signs of TB in her lungs. That news meant that, even if she was in early stage active TB, she was NOT contagious. This welcome news meant she could go out in public and masks were not needed for our family or the general public when around her. 
 

Courtesy D. Horrocks

However, her lump started getting bigger over last weekend. She noticed it. I noticed it. My heart was thudding in my stomach through Saturday and Sunday.

We took a family outing to celebrate the news that she was not contagious. Despite the rainy weather, we sloshed around at Happy Cow farm. We bought eggnog, drank chocolate milk, and arrived home at 4PM. Dr. Johnson called me at 4:05PM. 
 
The blood work that has been approved since 2005 to test for TB came back positive. He said they were shocked as they had been more inclined to think she had Cat Scratch Fever vs TB. There is an outside chance that these results represent a false positive. While the doctors are hopeful, they also know we are probably dealing with a re-emergence of TB. 
 
He was meeting with the pediatric surgeons just after our call to consult on a plan for our little angel. They have two options:

1. They will surgically remove the node for a biopsy which will render a definitive answer. If it's TB, he thinks they can get it all out at that time of the biopsy.
   
2. He described a more intricate biopsy using radiation. Frankly, I missed most of his explanation in this regard because of the sum total of his news. The lump is in a bad place. They hate to operate on it. Among other concerns, the surgery could affect her facial nerves. Her beautiful face. Her beautiful, grace filled smile.
   

Courtesy D. Horrocks

I asked him if this would be before the end of the year. "Oh yes." he said.

I asked him if he meant THIS week. "Oh yes." he said.

Surgery would be overnight. Biopsy option would be all day, but outpatient.

SHE IS NOT CONTAGIOUS.

I know this fact is hard to understand. I asked him for reassurance twice. Twice he said, “No, no, no. Her Xray was clear. NO TB IN HER LUNGS. She is NOT contagious to your family or anyone outside your family.”

Please trust us. Please trust the doctors. Please do not shun us. We need the body of Christ now more than ever. I am seriously drained. I cry in the bathtub so the kids can't see. I am scared. This child has been through so much medically. We knew this was a tough road when we adopted her. It's not about us or our finances, time, etc....It's about me looking into her eyes once again and telling her she needs to be cut open – once more. It's about adding one more scar to the many scars that litter her body already.

Courtesy D. Horrocks

So, God. It's me Denise. I'm waiting here for you. You love me, yes. You love my little girl, yes. You created her. You knew we – weak, broken, leaky, ugly vessels that we are – would be her parents. I am, in the words of my Alabama friend, going to be banging on your gates for you to restore my little cup of cocoa. She loves you. She loves me. I'm waiting here for you. With my hands, lifted high.

For it's you, we adore............ and we sing hallelu...hallelujah. Waiting here for you.

Torn Between Two Lovers

Courtesy Mad Penguin Creat

Her efforts at teaching me the fine art of hand tying bows would, in the end, be for naught. Her hands created a masterpiece every few minutes. My efforts came in stops and starts. Her bows were uniform and masterful. Mine were.....quickly unraveled so that I could try again. And again. And...I pretty much gave up by the 3^rd attempt.

Conversation flowed as furiously as the fluid motion of her fingers. We were like butterflies flitting around in a garden of conversation as we touched lightly upon first one topic and then another. Until, that is, I stumbled upon a trap I didn't see coming.

I don't recall the specific concern to which I referred just that I was praying for something specific. Her gaze had remained steadfastly locked on her work until that moment. The motion ceased. I looked up to see if someone had thrown a wrench in her gears because of the abrupt end to her labor.

Courtesy Mad Penguin Creative

She stared me down with a perplexed and troubled look. In the age old manner that teachers speak to errant children, she said, “Prayer doesn't change things. Don't you know...it changes people. Prayer changes the one who prays..not the circumstances for which we pray.”

Thus it was I became aware of yet another issue that divides the spiritual hearts of men who name the name of Christ as Savior. I was into my 3^rd decade of life and had been inhabiting the halls of Christendom since my 3^rd day of life. How had I not gotten such an important memo?

Being as how I'm not a theologian and all, that great divide still makes my head hurt. Especially here in the buckle of what we Americans call the Bible Belt where there is a church on every street corner, prayer has been elevated to an art form. There are probably a bazillion books on how and what to pray. You can pay big money to go to conferences on prayer if you are so inclined.

Courtesy Mad Penguin Creative

Imma tell you the truth, with all the experts on TV, in the bookstore, and in the pulpit to tell me about prayer, I still struggle with that conversation of 20+ years ago. My family would tell you that I pray. A lot. In our homeless days, if our wheels were rolling, I was praying. I haven't changed much in the last 6 years in that regard. And yet, I still find myself wondering, “If prayer doesn't have any effect on my circumstance, why pray?”

Frankly speaking, there are days I don't wanna change anymore. I've been thru enough life changing circumstances in the last decade. I'd like to stay the same for a while and let circumstances change. Know what I mean? Especially this week. We've faced some stuff this week. Things that have left me awake in the night as I agonized with God over what to do and how to react.

Courtesy Mad Penguin Creative

I found myself thinking, “I really, really want to see God act on our behalf in a way that my sons will see their God as a God of action who intervenes on behalf of his children. It's fine and dandy if he uses the circumstances of life to grow our faith, but can't he do so by affecting the circumstances too?” Is that too much to ask after all we've been through?

I am torn between 2 lovers and both are named prayer. I do not know how to reconcile this thing we were called to do when Jesus taught his disciples how to pray. I can understand that as we pray, a Holy God can perfect our prayers and prepare us for the outcome he knows is on the path ahead of us. As we pray, he changes our hearts. Our actions and desires follow. I get it. It ain't rocket science.

I am the fraidy cat daughter of Abraham, tho. In my humanness, I also have a longing need to see a chain of events that lets me know God heard my prayer. I long to see circumstances evolve in a way that allows me to connect those dots as well. Don't tell me about how the Children of Israel had all that and still doubted. I got that memo in Sunday School. I'm looking for a deeper answer than that.

Courtesy Mad Penguin Creative

Earlier this week, my husband turned to me and said, “I am afraid.” It is not a comment he makes often. So, you take notice when he does. He said, “God did not protect me when I was young and could not protect myself. He stood by and let what happened happen. He stood by when I was sick and let us lose our home. How do I know I can trust him now?” I had no answer, but I understood the question.

Somedays, I feel like a length of ribbon. My lovingly hand-tied prayers are awkward and uneven. They unravel only to be reconstructed in hopes they will come together with craftsman-like perfection. Unlike my foray into ribbon tying, I'm still trying 20 years later. How 'bout you?

                                    
                                                        Hebrews 4:16

Courtesy B. Creays

Let us therefore come boldly to the throne of grace, that we may obtain mercy, and find grace to help in time of need.

Romans 8:26 
(International Standard Version)

In the same way, the Spirit also helps us in our weakness, since we do not know how to pray as we should. But the Spirit himself intercedes for us with groans too deep for words,

What if Mamma Hadn't Prayed...

Courtesy Mad Penguin Creative

Death had come knocking in May. Turns out it had just been a warning volley fired across the bow of life's ship. As much as we clung to hope, we knew. There was only so much the medical wizards could do. Death could be placated for a while. Only for a while.

The days had come and gone in monotonous progression. Until, that is, Death would advance demanding yet another bribe. Then, the frenzy of alarm-driven activity would punctuate the monotony like lightening splitting a dark prairie sky.

The medical team would rally and make another offering on the altar of life. He'd slink away reluctantly, looking over his shoulder planning his next advance even while on retreat. We'd breathe a sigh of relief and wonder if it was our last.

Courtesy Mad Penguin Creative

The respiratory therapist's brow wrinkled in perplexity. “Have you,” she asked, “seen that before?”

“Yes,” I allowed as my pulse picked up knowing her brow said more than her words. “For maybe 4 days now. I've mentioned it before, but no one seemed to mind. When she sleeps more deeply, it goes away. Is she dreaming?”

Death snickered at the door. His final assault had begun. He began to pace and whine. No longer the black robed figure with a scythe, he had become the wolf waiting for the fire to die out. He was hungry and would demand his prey. I could feel his hot breath on my neck.

The room filled with staff. By then, they knew I could take most anything. She brought me into the world. I had promised to take her home. Sepsis had not driven me away. This night, no one asked. Two of them turned and directed me to the door. One followed me to the room across the hall. “It's better this way. I'll be right back.”

Courtesy Mad Penguin Creative

I saw the tube of blood as they rushed it to the lab on my side of the hall. Its size telegraphed an urgency I had not seen on so many urgent nights. I blinked once, maybe twice. She was back. She didn't say, “It's over now.” That might have been preferable. Then again, maybe no.

Instead, she said, “The time has come. Do you want to opt for palliative support only now?”

That is fancy medical speak for, “We've run out all options but one. We will do all we can to keep your patient comfortable until death has run its fateful course.”

The drum beat of my heart throbs threatened to rupture my eardrums. “What time is it?” I asked.

“Two a.m.” she said.

Courtesy Mad Penguin Creative

I growled at the Wolf. Coward that he was, he always came in the wee hours of the night. “I cannot do this to them,” I say. “I cannot wake them with this news. Let them sleep.” And, our deal with the Devil was sealed. Daylight dawned, but the Wolf did not retreat back into the darkness.

In the end, her lucidity allowed that she was the one to make the final call. By the light of day, the doctor explained her options. He sealed off the tracheotomy and gave her back her voice but only long enough to legally dot the i's and cross the t's of death. The end had come.

The gathering began. She made her final wishes known. They had planned to renew their wedding vows a few weeks hence. “Now,” she said despite the absence of her voice. And so it was. Her family had gathered. The pastor came. Stiff upper lips ringed the room. She beamed and nodded agreement as the pastor repeated the vows for her.

The news had traveled up and down the hall. The all seeing eye in the corner of the room insured that few dry eyes looked on from the nurses station even as they carried on heroic tasks.

Courtesy Mad Penguin Creative

The pastor prayed. I did as I had done so often during that mean season. I watched. Tiny tears glinted at the outer corners of her closed eyes. Her hands lifted into the air towards the heavens. Her lips formed silent words as she whispered to the one waiting to take her home.

Her face belied the words. “Are you sure it's time? What about them? How can I leave them behind? Will you take care of them when I'm gone? If this is what you want, I am yours. Not my will but thine.” Shock, confusion, relief, expectation. It was all there in that last earth bound prayer.

I remembered all the times I had wakened to find her bowed in prayer. All the times I had come in from school to find her praying. In the 15 months she's been gone, I've found the notes she wrote to the boys. No matter how they started out, they always included, “I prayed for you.”

Courtesy Mad Penguin Creative

After the funeral home staff came and we drove away from a place we had never wanted to be, my husband said, “I never saw your mom that she didn't tell me she prayed for me. I don't think my own mother ever told me, not a single time, that she was praying for me. Your mother never let me leave without reminding me that I was in her prayers. What will we do without them?”

Friends who watch over the dying tell me that most people die as they lived. If you live with a cold, dead, angry heart devoid of hope, you often die full of fury literally cursing the end. She died the way she lived. Asking God to watch over the ones she loved. “What,” I ask myself, “if Mamma had never prayed?”

Courtesy B. Creasy

Proverbs 15:8(NAS)

The sacrifice of the wicked is an abomination to the LORD, But the prayer of the upright is His delight.

Luke 18:1(NIV)

Then Jesus told his disciples a parable to show them that they should always pray and not give up.