Laryngitis of the Soul - 3rd in a Series

Courtesy Mad Penguin Creative

Disclaimer:

We are headed into deep water, so be prepared? If you think the toddler swimmie you grabbed from the local drug store last summer to keep your youngest afloat will do the job in the days ahead, rethink things now. Don’t say you weren’t warned.

This series is about a writer who contracted laryngitis of the soul and lost her voice. I told you that. I told you professional bloggers with much Google-fu advised me to lose the fraidy cat and rebrand.

I want you to know I admire, respect, and appreciate their advice. Given their understanding of analytics, SEO, and branding, they make a valid point. If I embrace my inner fraidy cat, brands who wander by here may tend to shy away.

In embracing who I am, I diminish my validity and marketability. I may as well have a big ole ‘L’ for loser right across my unprofessional forehead – especially if I miss a comma or two here and there at three in the morning. I get that. I do.

Courtesy Mad Penguin Creative 

So, when I left the shores of Captiva behind, wheelbarrow loads of conference speak buried me neck deep. Those words mixed and mingled with where I was in life until I lost my confidence, my courage, and my belief in myself.

I became overwhelmed with the need to do more, better, faster and to master everything at once. The urgency of it all became more than I could bear. I burned out before I really got started.

I mourned privately and lurked on my professional blogging groups. I pinned blog minutia and supported the shiny, spit polished platforms others were creating. 

I thought, “One day, I’ll need this and get back to it. Oh, who am I kidding? At the rate technology changes, by the time I get back to it, this info will be obsolete.”

I had to have weekly immunizations for envy and jealousy as my blogger friends met and exceeded goal after goal while I tried to think of one I could set.

Before I knew it, six months had elapsed while I tried to pretend I was not a writer and that I’d never had a blog to begin with. I don’t mind telling you, it was pure agony.

Courtesy Mad Penguin Creative

And, in those months of quiet, my private life became even more chaotic. A hard fought for marriage kept slipping more and more out of reach no matter what I prayed, what I did, or who the counselor was this time.

I think I realized how close the end was the first time I heard Christina Aguilera and Great Big World sing, “Say Something”. I can’t remember the last time I cried til that moment.

I don’t think I even cried in the fifty-six numb days between life and death when my courageous, conscious, fully lucid mom lingered on a ventilator.

But that song, that song, reduced me to sobs that would not stop for hours on end. It was as if all the tears I had not cried in almost twenty-five years found their voice on the wings of that song and would no longer be silenced.

And, this my friend is where my story stops being one only writers can identify with and becomes one for any fraidy cat who has had laryngitis of the soul. 

If you know me, you know I am a person of hard fought for, down in the dirt wrestling, sweaty-ugly faith. If you are just meeting me – I’m not one to sugar coat things about my faith. I hope that won’t set you back too much?  

I know there is a God who cares, and I don’t think he is the one that sits on Bette Midler’s ‘distant shore’ watching me with cold indifference.

I do understand the irony when I turn around and say I am not always sure where he is showing up in my story. Shoot, a lot of the time I wonder if he is aware of my story at all. There. I admitted it.

I was having one of those nights of arm wrestling with God. The house was quiet enough to imply my two insomniacs had finally drifted off for good.

The debris of the day was scattered around me like a World War I mine field. Mocking me. Reminding me I had bills to pay, boxes to pack, school to plan, cabinets to paint, one-hundred other things that one person simply could not do alone, and a marriage in the last gasps of death.

The soulful strains of “Say Something” gripped me by the heart, and floods of tears drenched the computer keyboard. I don’t know why I wasn’t electrocuted.

Yes, I know it’s a secular song, but as that song filled the room, I cried out to God. “Look at this mess. Do you see me? DO YOU SEE ME? I.can.not.do.this.alone. It’s humanly impossible. Do you see?”

And into that forsaken misery it seemed a whisper filled my heart:

Yes. I see you. I know your circumstances are untrustworthy and have been for as long as you can remember now. I know you cannot depend upon the earthly one who promised to be the most dependable to you in the entire world. I get that. I do. 

Courtesy Mad Penguin Creative

Now I have a question for you. In the midst of everything that is untrustworthy, do you trust me with your untrustworthy circumstances? Do you?”  

Well, I told you this journey was not for the faint of heart and that drug store swim wings were not going to be sufficient. I told you this is a story for anyone who had ever suffered from voice stealing laryngitis of the soul. Believe me now?

I see you, fraidy cat. If you are longing to come in from the cold, you are welcome here. You don’t have to explain a thing. I get you. I do. Love you long and strong. See you soon?

Isaiah 33:2 (ERV)
Lord, be kind to us. We have waited for your help. Give us strength every morning. Save us when we are in trouble.

Click below to follow the series: 
 Part 1 and Part 2   

I Am That Woman

Courtesy Mad Penguin Creative

I am the broken one who hides behind humor and a smile. I am the one who asks, “How are you?” and then coo's and murmurs and bathes you in empathy so serene you never guess the truth. Because I do what I do, you miss the vacant stare behind the smile. If I was still long enough and you looked closer, you would see the vacancy signaling a pain deeper than anything I can put into words. 

I am the one who labors in the trenches thinking tomorrow will be a better day. I go through the motions thinking hard work and perseverance can overcome this present pain. Until I know I have done all I can do until there is nothing left to do. Then, there is nothing left to do. But wait. Wait on the good God with the good plan to show me what is coming next.

The face staring back from the mirror is the statistic I never wanted to be: the woman facing divorce after almost twenty-four years of marriage. This has been a hard fought marriage with many, many counselors and an infinite number of prayer warriors all aimed at patching up brokenness that never seemed to end. From where I sit today, all the effort, mine and theirs, was wasted.

Time has gone and cannot be regained. The monster that has dogged our steps every day of marriage finally caught up with us and washed us away. Even a 2nd wedding could not patch up what was broken before it began. God hates divorce. His mercies are new every morning. Hope springs eternal. Random thoughts come and go. They always end with, “I am that woman now.”

I think about the days of death and dying and wonder why, “Fire on the mountain, run boys run,” does not pound through my soul now as it did then. I am just as numb with grief. I am that woman.

Courtesy Mad Penguin Creative

My gift of words fails to describe my exhaustion. I sleep but do not rest. I wonder how long it has been that sleep and rest went hand in hand. I breathe deeply trying to quell the sadness and panic threatening to overcome me. I look back and know that all the hard things I have already endured have been my boot camp. 

This monstrous thing is hard. Suffocatingly hard. Watching your mother sign the orders to turn off her life support systems – that was the P90x of preparation for this horrible, nasty moment. I endured those endless days in ICU. I will get through this challenge the same way I got through that one. Intact. 

Instead of the relentless beat of the Marshall Tucker Band, the only words that come are whispered: 

So, this is what it is to be that woman. 

I wonder when the backlash will start. When will the Christians begin to whisper? When will the, “God hates divorce,” emails and phone calls commence? I am prepared. I will look into the eyes of the women who try to mop up my mess with their inexperienced words of wisdom, and I will know.

I will know that when they least expect it and believe their hard work has been sufficient to prevent it, they might find themselves looking into my mirror. And so, I will smile the smile that covers up the vacancy in my soul and coo and murmur and reassure until they forget their original mission.

I will do so to leave the door open wide enough for them to overcome shame and fear and come back again. When they look into their mirror and see my face, when they are shocked to think, “Now it is me, Now, I am that woman,” I want to know I left the door open for their return.

And now, now I sit and wait. I wait on my good God to be faithful to his good plan because no matter what, I believe. I sit with my sons, and we pray. There is a good God, and he is too sweet not to trust. So, we pray for the strength to trust no matter what.

I choose again today to trust him even with this pain that I could not out run. And, in the end, I hope to say for once and for all: Jesus is too sweet not to trust him. I can commend him to you because he was sweetest when the pain was greatest.

Many thanks to all who bear my burdens. You are too numerous to name, but you are Heaven sent gifts. Thank you for teaching me and inspiring me. Thank you for strengthening me. Especially to Jackie for uttering the words, “Jesus is too sweet for me not to trust him.”

Ephesians 5:1-2 (The Message)

Watch what God does, and then you do it, like children who learn proper behavior from their parents. Mostly what God does is love you. Keep company with him and learn a life of love. Observe how Christ loved us. His love was not cautious but extravagant. He didn’t love in order to get something from us but to give everything of himself to us. Love like that.

Swimming Upstream While Blindfolded

Courtesy A. Hughes

It's that time of year again. Store aisles are crammed with back to school supplies. Retailers sell those at a frenzied pace so Christmas stock can prematurely fill the shelves again. In homes throughout the land, the air crackles with anticipation.

No matter what schooling option you embrace, this time of year lends itself to apprehension and re-evaluation. Will my child get 'the right' teacher? Has he or she lost gains made last year during summer downtime? How in the world am I going to navigate three carpool lines at the same time!

For the homeschooler, the questions have a different slant, but the categories of worry are universal. Will I be the teacher my child needs? Are we on track with what the rest of the world is doing, or should I be doing more faster? How in the world will I teach three children in three different grades and tend to a roaming toddler on the loose?

2012

In our home, we've begun the count down to graduation. As of today, five hundred thirty-seven to go. O.K. I've started the countdown. My 10^th grader is mostly oblivious and only cares about the number of hours left in today's school day.

I began to feel the future coming last year this time and panic rose. All I've been, maybe all I know how to be, is a homeschooling mom. When I am done, it will be who I've been for eighteen years.

This past week, I visited our local homeschooling supply store. Many years, it's been my home away from home. I count the former owners as my extended 'family'. The matriarch and I reminisced and commiserated. She has said goodbyes to so many as one family after another graduated their last. I will join those numbers. It is sad - that future I see coming.

I laughed about all the 'new stuff' I wouldn't get to explore and how my visits are few and far between now. I wondered aloud how it will feel when I don't have the answers to questions posed by those coming along behind me. Time moves on, and we move with it. I tell myself that's a good thing, but I am already in a race with time. I'm trying to redefine me before the inevitable gets here.

Courtesy Mad Penguin Creative

I think of you. For now, I am still in the trenches with you. Some days the trench is deeper than others, but I see the end of the ditch up ahead. I see you wrestling with an unknown future like blindfolded fish swimming upstream. I hear the questions echoing in your soul.

Am I smart enough? What if we've made the wrong decision, and everyone else is right? Maybe we should just throw in the towel and swim with the rest of the fish who know where they are going. When the future gets here, will my children thank me? Will I take a deep sigh of relief as I watch them fly, or will I drown in despair if they flounder to find their footing in an ever more fraidy cat world? Oh, the questions that haunt us are many as the voice of doubt courts our souls.

Some of us will, for compelling and appropriate reasons, alter the course of our schooling choices. Homeschoolers will join the ranks of the traditional schoolers. The naysayers who gasped in horror at the very thought of schooling at home will realize the choice is not so foreign after all. As parents, we will do the best we can as seasons of life change from one to another.

Courtesy Mad Penguin Creative

I think of all the years I wondered what you are wondering now. I think of all the days I fretted and worried. In my blindfolded state while floundering through uncharted waters, I held the hand of the one who knew the future before I knew my children. I reminded him I was schooling the gift he had given me to steward for only a season and cried out for him to perfect my feeble efforts. And now, I have a glimpse of what I could not see in my seasons of doubt and fear. The journey was worth it.

He is there in the midst of your indecision and fear. As this new school year begins, no matter what your schooling choice, remember: he will hold your hand. All you have to do is ask.
Psalm 32:8 (NIV) I will instruct you and teach you in the way you should go; I will counsel you with my loving eye on you.

Courtesy B. Creasy 2010

Isaiah 30:21 (NIV) Whether you turn to the right or to the left, your ears will hear a voice behind you, saying, “This is the way; walk in it.”

Words to Live By

Courtesy M. Horrocks

We met by happenstance. Looking back, I felt robbed because our paths crossed for so short a time. I saved her business card. Over the next year, I sometimes picked it up and turned it over and over in my hand. Oh, if only we could have been friends.

The calendar did what it does and carried me along. The connection began to fade. I prepared to return to the writers conference where we met. The morning before I left, I thumbed through last year's business card collection. Who would I see again? Who had moved on to greener pastures? Would anyone care that I was back again?

There she was on that little square of paper. I was almost afraid to hope. Since it was not a photo card, I closed my eyes and tried to recall her face. Nada. Nothing. If she came again, would I even know her? I breathed a prayer. Truth be told, it was fleeting and without much hope.

Courtesy Mad Penguin Creative

This year, I managed not to lock my keys in the car upon arriving. I was patting myself on the back as I returned the luggage carrier to the lobby. An energetic young couple was heading for the elevator, so I held the door. They tumbled in a little breathless from the heat and effort of the day. Her eyebrows lifted as if in excited recognition. “Hey!” Her husband's reaction affirmed that he thought she was greeting an old friend.

“Hi! How are you?” The greetings flowed like sweet tea and soothed like water in the desert. Then, we each looked a bit taken aback. Why such a heartfelt greeting as if we knew each other? We shied away. Probably just the contagion of excitement in the air. Polite and more restrained mouth noise followed as we cast nervous and puzzled glances back and forth.

Was it another happenstance of life? Our rooms were right next door to one another. We saw each other coming and going, but warm greetings did not slow our paces. Until they did. The elevator doors closed against the frenzy of the conference. “I have this weird feeling every time we see each other. Like I should know you. Did you come last year?”

She agreed that our connection seemed oddly familiar, and, yes, she was an attendee last year as well. So, I asked, “May I have your card? Here's mine.”

Courtesy D. R. Ahola

In my palm lay a replica of the card I had pulled out and turned over and over so many times the preceding year. I tried not to cry. Recognition dawned on her face as well. We stood amazed. It all made sense now. We did know each other for those few, fleeting moments in time.

All I needed was to prove I was an unbalanced stalker while we were in an elevator with closed doors. Geez. I tried to keep my voice from wavering as I told her that the last thing I did before I left home was hold her card and ask God to cause our paths to cross. 

God did what I feel he so rarely does in my life. (Note: I said it's what I 'feel'. I am hoping I am just a slow learner with poorly corrected spiritual vision. I hope I will one day look back and see many things I cannot see about his work in my life right now.) He heard the cry of my heart and answered. In that instant of recognition, I rejoiced in his provision, uniquely designed for me.

Courtesy Mad Penguin Creative

We spent breakfast together. Before we knew it, the cafeteria had grown quiet. In our absorption with the commonalities of our lives, the world had fallen away. We laughed and ran. Life. Always, always moving us along at a hurtle. This year, we made a promise. No more losing each other. And, we've kept it. More visits are in our future. Truthfully, time drags between visits. 

I received a note from her a few days ago. The news was not unexpected given what was transpiring in her life. She is leaving a career of twenty-two years to become a full-time writer and speaker. But, oh, her words. How they pierced my heart and still do. With her permission, I share a portion of them tonight:

Courtesy H. Wills

I am extremely sad to walk away from a profession that I love, yet I am deeply joyful and humbled that the God of the universe has spoken to me so intimately and so clearly. He has been holding my hand confirming this next step over and over again. He is too good, and I trust Him too much to resist His leading. 

I jotted her a note tonight. Last year, I turned her business card over and over in my heart. This year, I turn this paragraph over and over, again and again. He is too good, and I trust Him too much to resist His leading. Oh, the agony of soul. When last we sat face-to-face, I grasped her hand and said, “I want to know him like you do. I want to know God the way you do. I want to be able to say exactly what you've said.

How do you spell Providence?

I sit here tonight in the quiet and wee hours of the morning. My soul cries out to Jackie's God. Please. And thank-you. She is iron sharpening my iron. Help me live with that much faith. Help me to know you and declare you as she does: too good and too trustworthy to resist your leading. Here I am, Lord. Pick me?

For Jackie: the gift of iron to a rusty soul.

As iron sharpens iron, so one person sharpens another. Proverbs 27:17

I Looked in the Mirror....and Saw Richard Branson!

Courtesy Mad Penguin Creative

Piers Morgan, Larry King's CNN replacement, interviewed Richard Branson tonight. Branson owns Virgin Air and a bunch of other stuff that mere mortals aren't allowed to own. The way I hear it, only God is richer than Richard Branson. Which is an interesting irony given the story I just heard Mr. Virgin Air tell.

As he told it, he and a friend recently argued about the existence of God while seated at the dinner table of his Necker Island vacation home. He OWNS the ENTIRE island. The house has hosted the likes of Oprah, Lady Di and the Princes, and other ultra rich, famous people.

In case you aren't the newshound I am, let me give you the 411. That same house burned down a few weeks ago. It burned down while a violent rain storm, kicked up by the soon to be Hurricane Irene, was dumping INCHES of rain on the island. The famous actress Kate Winslet carried his mom out of the blaze because the octogenarian couldn’t move faster than a burning tropical hut/dream house. Amazingly, no one was injured.

Courtesy Mad Penguin Creative

Wanna guess what night the fire occurred? Branson and his friend ate and argued about God's existence, went to bed, and woke up with the house in flames that very same night. It was in ashes within 10 minutes despite the fact that Baby Irene was dumping as much water on the place as a battalion of fireman would have used to hose it down.

I'm thinking if I was him, I'd feel like I heard God's answer to the debate. A 10 minute fire on a Robinson Caruso-like island that destroyed my house during a rain storm, without anyone coming to bodily harm, would make me a believer before the first flame died out. Know what he said? He says he still wishes someone could convince him of the existence of God. He WANTS to be convinced. He said so. I could see the intensity of that desire in his eyes right here in my living room.

Courtesy Mad Penguin Creative

Oh my! Poor Mr. Branson and poor me. When I think about my journey over this last few years, I think I look a whole lot more like Mr. Branson than I'd like. As he spoke, I could see what I thought was an almost painful hunger to know the truth. It seemed to me that he is having a real crisis of faith in his...well...lack of faith. He's got all that money, all that stuff, all those beautiful, famous friends....and down deep inside, he is a fraidy cat just like me.

He must be brilliant or at least know how to surround himself with brilliant business people. Yet with all that intellect, he too is flummoxed by the most foundational questions in life. Is there a God? If there is, why did he put me here? What is my ultimate purpose? Who am I in the grand scheme of things? How can I really know if he is there and that he is trustworthy?

I strained toward the television to catch every inflection of his voice and every mannerism. There it was....his inner fraidy cat! He's arm wrestling as furiously as am I; he just hasn't figured out with whom he's wrestling. I'd like to think I'm one step ahead in our mutual process since I've known quite clearly that God was at the other end of my struggles. I didn't have to wonder if he existed or if my wrestling match was worth it.

Courtesy Mad Penguin Creative

One need only look at the complexity of creation to know that each member of nature cries out in testimony to the fact that a Creator God exists. That Creator God uniquely designed each one of us, and every member of the natural world, to fulfill a specific purpose. Nothing else can do what a click beetle, platypus, jellyfish, Venus fly trap, calla lily or mushroom can do. No one else can fill the spot in God's plan for time and eternity that I will fill. There will be only one YOU in all the expanse of time...even if you are an identical twin.

Perhaps I've had a spiritual mid-life crisis of sorts? Perhaps he is having one as well? Here I am wondering who I'm supposed to be when I grow up. I'm especially puzzled about that answer now that it seems God has made it plain he doesn't need me on his cheer leading squad. At the same time, the world's richest man – who can be, buy, or do anything he wants – is crying out to know who he is in the grand scheme of things too. Man....like they say: money can't buy everything. If it could, I think he'd have bought his answer by now. It would be a lot easier and less painful than sitting around debating the what if's and what if not's with friends. Quicker too!

I, for one, really know how it feels to have a desperate inner fraidy cat like that! I could have taken the coward's way out and kept on pretending that I had all the answers. I know it would make a lot of folks feel a lot more comfortable around and pleased with me if I just sucked it up and uttered a lot of 'God is Good. All the Time'-s. I just reached a point that I had more questions than answers. A long time ago when I was a kid, some adult told me that when you reach that point in life, you are a bona fide adult. YIPPPEEE. Not.

Courtesy Mad Penguin Creative

Just like I got sick and tired of secret keepers and mask wearers, I got tired of feeling as tho' it was un-Christian to wrestle with my faith and admit that the battle was hot, lonely, and scary. In fact, I imagine my battle is about as ugly as the effort Mr. Branson and his resort guests launched that night during the fire. From where I sit tonight, I'd say my effort is as worthwhile as the one he put forth during the fire to save lives.

Mr. Branson has reported that they will rebuild his island oasis bigger and better than before in time for his daughter's wedding. Again, I think we have something in common. A fire (of sorts) destroyed all I had hoped to be and all that I had worked to become. I am writing my way back to God. In the process, I hope to rebuild my life and myself from the ground up again too.

Courtesy Mad Penguin Creative

I'll pray for Mr. Branson tonight. In fact, as crazy as it sounds, I'll probably remember him in my prayers often. Maybe as often as I remember the troubled couple in the grocery store parking lot. Given the enormity of his recent post card from Heaven, I hope he wakes up and smells the coffee – once the smoke from the resortfire clears his mind, that is!

Love you long and strong. You are fearfully and wonderfully made with a unique purpose that is yours alone to fulfill. Let's conquer those inner fraidy cats together....and do something fearfully wonderful. Ok? See you tomorrow. I'll be here if you will!

Romans 1:20 (International Standard Version)

For since the creation of the world, God's invisible attributes-his eternal power and divine nature-have been understood and observed by what he made, so that people are without excuse.

Courtesy Mad Penguin Creative

1 Corinthians 26-29 (New American Standard)

For consider your calling, brothers: not many of you were wise according to worldly standards, not many were powerful, not many were of noble birth. but God has chosen the foolish things of the world to shame the wise, and God has chosen the weak things of the world to shame the things which are strong, God chose what is low and despised in the world, even things that are not, to bring to nothing things that are, so that no man may boast before God.