One Word 365: Off Balance {On Rejoicing}

There's this off-balance feeling that's been floating around inside my body since a few weeks after the miscarriage.

The irony is thick.

Life has been off balance in general and this physical manifestation of the feeling seems to be a reminder to continually reorder my mind's priorities and our life priorities, too. As badly as I want my life ordered right, I want my physical body in balance, too.

I want to be able to stand tall and walk straight without feeling like I'm on a slightly wavy sea boat; this desire for normalcy in all the facets of life keeps my mind spinning with thoughts -- how do I make it all normal?

Frustration mounts tenfold when despite numerous doctors' visits, everyone says everything looks normal despite my not feeling normal. You know, I'm glad it's all normal, but ... that leaves me feeling like a detective who's been constantly searching for clues and trying to put all of the pieces together. It's been taking up a good bulk of my thought life and even conversation with John and, of course, time spent at the doctors.

A few weekends ago when I visited Michelle, I'd been mulling over taking on a fast but hadn't thought of anything that seemed appropriate. We found my much-needed fast through conversations about our meager attempts at controlling our lives ...  for me, I knew I needed to abstain from reading health-related articles, books, posts, papers, etc for 30 days. For the past 20 days, I've been avoiding overloading my brain with all of this information ... and I simply cannot believe how much health information I've been consuming daily.

When something other than Christ's way of life becomes the focus, it's no wonder everything feels off balance.

After that clicked I realized I'd been clenching my fists trying to grasp control of the wrong things -- I cannot control how quickly my body rebalances no matter how much I read about the workings of the body, but I can through His strength control the thoughts that come through my mind.

Because while God gives our bodies the awesome ability to heal and we can do our parts in treating them the way {I think} He intended -- rooted in the rhythms of creation {more on this later} -- He has given me the ability to take all thoughts captive to Christ.

He has given me the choice to think on all things pure, right, noble, lovely, true, excellent, praiseworthy {Philippians 4:4-6}.

He has given me a choice to rejoice even when life seems anything but joyful.

I've sat in these thoughts for weeks now asking myself why He would command us to take captive our thoughts, think on what is true and right and lovely and rejoice always. Why is there so much more in the Bible about caring for our minds and hearts?

And what I've come back to is the thought that so often our bodies go the way of our minds.

So often our thoughts are what really lead us to the fullness of life.

Slowly, daily

I surrender at least some of my thoughts to Christ's way.

Slowly, daily

I try to make the choice to rejoice

at least some of hours I spend awake.

And slowly, daily,

balance, beyond the physical, restores. 

Everyday Life: All Day Long

"It is a serious thing to live in a society of possible gods and goddesses, to remember that the dullest and most uninteresting person you can talk to may one day be a creature which, if you saw it now, you would be strongly tempted to worship or else a horror and a corruption such as you now meet, if at all, only in a nightmare.

All day long we are in some degree helping each other to one or other of these destinations. 

It is in light of these overwhelming possibilities, it is with awe and circumspection proper to them, that we should conduct all our dealings with one another, all friendships, all loves, all play, all politics.

There are no ordinary people. 

You have never talked to a mere mortal. Nations, cultures, arts, civilizations -- these are mortal, and their life is to ours as the life of a gnat ... Next to the Blessed Sacrament itself, your neighbour is the holiest object presented to your senses."

C.S. Lewis, The Weight of Glory

I read this gem of thought by C.S. Lewis early this morning after four days of comforting a snuggly yet extra cranky and angry toddler sick with a stomach bug ... after days of cleaning up more bodily fluids than I care to list, after doing more loads of laundry than I care to count, after being held hostage on the couch or in bed more hours than I care to remember by the poor little sick {extremely crabby} youngest of the family.

By last night, I was feeling more than just done; I was feeling burnt out -- like I didn't have an ounce of patience or compassion or snuggling left in my body. And as he screamed for me to come back to him and snuggle him on the couch, yelling angrily, I simply could not muster up a loving response. Instead I snapped at him to stop screaming at mommy ... which made him burst into tears. 

Thankfully, despite the snowstorm raging outside, John arrived home earlier than normal and relieved me of mothering, giving me a chance to regroup and recharge. 

In a super gift of grace this morning after being refreshed sleep, God gave me time to spend in His word and reflecting on what it means to love others the way Jesus loved us and why it's so important when my oldest dressed himself and went outside to play in the snow at the same time the in-recovery child put himself back to bed.

The truth, the perspective was enough to fill my cup so that I can pour back out again.

Which is a good thing.

Because the oldest just went down with the same thing.

So I remember: "All day long we are in some degree helping each other to one or other of these destinations. "

Link up at Adrienne's today. 

Just Write: I Don't Know

She's coarse in language I don't really understand.

She presses down the wand against my abdomen as I lay on my back, skin exposed, in a warm room.

"Only see the yolk sack," I think she murmurs. "Must be early."

I assure her of dates but she shakes her head as though I don't know or understand.

I shake my head at her.

But she's right about both things nonetheless:

I don't know

or understand

any of it.

I don't understand her.

I don't understand what I'm seeing on the screen as it projects grainy images from what's growing inside me.

And I don't know.

I don't know any more than when I first walked into the ultrasound room.

"All I say is you are pregnant," she says.

I lie motionless in the dark room and one thought comes to my mind over and over and over after she tries to give me the weeks and days in numbers that I should count my pregnancy.

"Nothing is impossible with God."

It's the same thought He gave me a few weeks ago when my hormone levels didn't seem to match with possible conception dates ... which were later found to be off because of a calculation error only.

God doesn't miscalculate.

"And nothing is impossible with God."

I hear the words run over and over in my mind, and I want to shoo them away because everything that I'm seeing right now seems to say impossible.

But they persist.

And those are the first words from John's lips after he greets me in the waiting room.

"Nothing is impossible, honey," he says. "We'll wait another week, and we'll see."

We will wait.

We'll wait while I don't know, while I don't understand.

Any of it.

Except.

For that He does.

And it's enough for today.

Beyond Resolutions: Patience and Waiting {#OneWord365 recap}

I'm sitting atop a wooden stool in the kitchen, head buried into John's chest after demanding he abandon food prepping and pay attention me.

I am easy going until I am not. And when I'm not, I'm really, really not easy going at all.

Today is one of those days I am not.

I am a tightly wound mess of heart strings and heaping pile of emotion, and I am waiting.

I am waiting on God for more than a few answers to prayers I feel like I've been uttering all year long.

"I'm sick of waiting," I whine. "I want to know -- just a clear this way or that. Yes or no. Black or white."

With God sometimes there is no black or white but rather there are varying shades of gray and they all mess into each other in the canvas of waiting.

John hugs my body close to his, smiles and teases that I have three days left of being patience according to the calendar, and apparently I need all three of them to fully learn my lesson for the year.

I fall into his body, confident he'll catch me, but I scoff.

"Careful," he says. "Or you might have to do a repeat of your word again next year."

I know he's teasing me, a prod for a smile.

But.

I don't feel like smiling; I don't like waiting.

It's ... uncomfortable. And I can't do anything. Well anything that I like to define as productive -- like make things happen, make decisions clear, make answers known.

A friend and I decided days ago to do a study on waiting. It seemed fitting to us both.

As I settled in and read, this hit me over the head:

"The ability to wait on the Lord stems from being confident and focused on who God is and in what God is doing. It means confidence in God’s person: confidence in His wisdom, love, timing, understanding of our situation and that of the world. It means knowing and trusting in God’s principles, promises, purposes, and power." 

So when we wait, we've got two choices: we can wait impatiently or we can wait well trusting in His goodness.

This is good news for me -- because waiting well means doing something. It means coming to God in earnest prayer. It means seeking Him and His word. It means crying out to Him and letting go of my white-knuckled grasp of myriad situations and events and things.

When we wait well, something is changing -- our hearts. And, honestly, what can be more productive than taking our will and conforming it to His?

Waiting is uncomfortable because when we wait well there is change. And change involves growth. It's painful even.

There is a lightbulb that slowly burns a little brighter. It's painful. There is pain in waiting when change is involved.

And then I see it: to wait, to change is to share in Christ's suffering.

"Now if we are children, then we are heirs--heirs of God and co-heirs with Christ, if indeed we share in his sufferings in order that we may also share in his glory."Romans 8:12

To suffer is to become sanctified, righteous.

"No discipline seems pleasant at the time, but painful. Later on, however, it produces a harvest of righteousness and peace for those who have been trained by it." Hebrews 12:11

He hears the cries of the righteous.

"The righteous cry out, and the LORD hears them; he delivers them from all their troubles." Psalm 34:17

So we can wait impatiently.

Or we can wait well, with patience.

"For this reason I also suffer these things; nevertheless I am not ashamed, for I know whom I have believed and am persuaded that He is able to keep what I have committed to Him until that Day." 2 Timothy 1:12

I exhale my weight fully into John's arms trusting that he's holding me as I wrestle with putting my word into practice.

And I realize I can do the same in the waiting with God.

So I exhale, breathe and let myself fall into His arms.

Patience in 2012
Patience in Healing
Patience in Waiting for a baby
Patience in Mothering
Patience with myself
Patience with grief
Patience in marriage

2012 Patience

2011 Being

Bigger Picture Moments: On Patience in Rebuilding

Editor's Note November 2012: If you are looking for information on restoring your digestive system, please know that The Body Ecology Diet helped me, but it didn't completely restore my health. My body actually stalled out on the the diet, and I needed to go off it to heal other parts of my body. You can read about my last steps in healing by clicking here. 

Hot, salty tears spilled into the warm bath water I'd just sunk my tired body into.

Healing, I said aloud through sobs, where is my miracle?

John and I had finished listening to a sermon on modern miracles and Jesus' instantaneous miracles recorded in Matthew moments prior ... and I couldn't help but let the words slip out of my mouth.

Shoulders shaking, head in my hands, eyes blurred with tears and bare skinned and bared heart before my husband and my Lord, I asked the question I'd been side-stepping ever since week three of this yeast detox when I felt like this cleansing just wasn't giving way to the kind of rebuilding for which I'd hoped while on the diet.

Six and a half weeks.

For six entire weeks, I've been following the Body Ecology Diet in effort to holistically eliminate what we're pretty sure has been candiasis clothed in IBS, anxiety, sinusitis and fatigue.

Simply, following a no-sugar diet has been difficult because even natural sugars found in sweet potatoes, tomatoes and fruit feed yeast. As do vinegars, alcohol, caffeine {oh, tea!} and most grains.

And to get rid of the yeast, they must be starved because when they are starved, they die. When they die, they omit toxins into the body, which must be filtered and carried out. And before they are carried out healing feels like anything but.

I've been having a hard time accepting this-- this kind of healing where getting worse before getting better is the necessary route--  chills, fatigue, night sweats, digestive upset, hives, an episode of a green tongue, anxiety, irritability have been par for the course.

It's only been the past few weeks where I've felt a resurgence of my old friend energy and a major decrease in the brain fog that had been plaguing me for the past several months along with significant ease of digestive issues.

But there are still smaller waves of cleansing my body has been undergoing that continuously push me into longer stretches of sleep and relaxation and, samely, bouts of frustration and questioning.

This experience has me heavy thinking about so many things -- the way we view food as a culture and individually, the diseases and conditions we deem normal when they are actually very abnormal, the way our bodies cleanse themselves and the way we handle dis-ease.

When we don't feel well, we often want a quick fix of medication and instant relief.

When we medicate instead of naturally and holistically treat with food and quality self care aren't we sending mixed signals to our bodies -- telling them to stop the process of elimination by stopping fevers and drying out snot in the sinuses?

These symptoms are our bodies way of cleansing impurities -- and so we feel worse before we feel better.

I've been purging the invaders from my body these past six weeks and half weeks, and, thus, I've felt worse before I've felt better.

And there in the small pool of bathtub water, as I struggled to make peace in my mind between all the different ways healing comes and healing looks, I heard His voice through my sobs.

You never asked for an instant miracle; you asked for healing.

And patience. You asked for that, too.

There has been healing from His hand.

And in this healing, He's grown my patience, too.

When He said "Ask and it will be given to you; seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened to you," He meant it.

He's been listening and responding all along in love.

And now it's my turn to respond in faith with trust, saying, yes, sometimes we feel worse before we feel better, but better is on the horizon and closer with every mile logged.

Share a picture, words, creation or list; just come to the table with LOVE in your heart. 

Live.
Reflect on the blessings that were apparent to you this week.

Capture.
Harvest them!

Share.
Link up your gleaned moment this week at Melissa's! Please be sure to link to your post, not your blog. Your post must link back here or have our button in your post or the link will be deleted.

Encourage.
Visit at least the person linked before you and encourage her in this journey we call life.

Everyday Life: Patience {In January}

I'd envisioned rest and relaxation, time spent in the company of silence and of others to be the major components of healing.

There is some of that here.

But, too, and maybe more, there is sacrifice.

Sacrifice of time spent with my husband in favor of listening to a body that desperately aches for sleep.

Sacrifice of the places I want to go, time I want to spend, conversations I want to have, ideas I want to explore, people I want to help, words for the book I must write.

I keep wishing in some ways that this body of mine

this heart

this mind

would heal faster.

{Lord, don't you know I have boys who are growing -- growing so fast and so furious that they wake up needing the next size clothing some days? And a husband who needs an awake wife? And a business and a blog ... and and     and ....}

But deep healing requires patience. And patience requires some amount of sacrifice.

Mostly, the sacrifice of expectations

enough to allow for permeable grace

to soak into the soil of busy

enough to allow for guilt-free days

as whole living slowly, steadily emerges like the sun rising in the horizon each morning.

A reminder

that it rises

one morning at a time.

{Even for a mom, a wife, a business owner, a blogger ...}


My word for 2012 is patience. Each month, I'm chronicling how patience is being woven into my life this year.

Beyond Resolutions: Patience {#OneWord365}

About this time last year, I chose to focus for an entire year on being rather than doing.

Building character rather than building my resume.

Becoming more of the me God intended me to be rather than more of the me I intended me to be.

Had I known last year what being results in, I might have been too nervous to choose such a powerful word to commit to focusing on.

Because the word being is actually a more subdued version of the word grow.

And, boy, has it been a year of growth -- spiritual, emotional and mental growth.

While my body actually shrank -- which last year I wasn't sure I would be able to make and keep such a resolution -- the other parts of me have been stretched and opened and grown through thanksgiving, through grief and through choosing joy.

It's been a ride ... a ride I'm glad to have taken but am now ready to exit.

I readily admit that I'm ready to usher in a new year with its freshness and possibility and newness.

And in that newness stretched out like the deep dawning of a new day, I'm embracing a new word for 2012:

Patient -- embracing a wait, contentedness, willing to choose joy despite circumstances, tolerant

"God doesn't come and go. God lasts.
He's Creator of all you can see or imagine.
He doesn't get tired out, doesn't pause to catch his breath.
And he knows everything, inside and out.
He energizes those who get tired, gives fresh strength to dropouts.
For even young people tire and drop out, young folk in their prime stumble and fall.
But those who wait upon God get fresh strength. 
They spread their wings and soar like eagles,
They run and don't get tired, they walk and don't lag behind." Isaiah 40: 28-31

So I will wait upon God. 

I will be patient with myself -- with the healing of my scars, with the limits of being human, with what is out of my control, with the time structures in which I live, with the expectations I set for myself.

And I will pray for patience to run deep and wide enough to spill over my heart and flow from my tongue.

Patience enough to allow for the space it takes for passion to burn.

And burn well.

A group of writers have come together to take a step beyond standing in stalled resolutions instead vowing to pick one word that will help guide them through the year. I'm joining formally this year after having had such a wonderful experience of focusing on one word during 2011. #OneWord365

2011: Be