How the Title of My Story Is Not Mine

(written Friday, February 8, 2013)

I've always liked naming things

When I was a writer-child and delving deep into 7-year-old-plot lines about magic mirrors and orphan girls banding together to esce evil, I deeply cared about my characters' names as well as the places they lived.

The title of my stories were the most important, of course. The title could tell you the entire story, itself.

Or so I thought. I relied on my titles to express what I was going through at such a tender age.

Well, now I am a few months shy of my 35th birthday and I have a different story to tell. But, much like my child-writer-self, I depend on that title, that name, to define what my story is.

When all along...it is His story...not mine. And He names it. Not me.

Three or so years ago, I remember getting a pain in the vicinity of my abdomen.

Two years ago I noticed a very specific pain in my right lower abdomen. I remember having to stand, hunched over. It came and went and I knew why they call pain "waves."

Then, in January of 2012, I began having issues that sent me to my doctor, then to urgent care, and then, in February, to the first of what would become a few emergency room visits in one year.

Throughout 2012, I baffled everyone. I'd attend an appointment or sit on the ER bed in tears over the amount of pain I was in. Nurses drew blood, doctors peered down at results; all told me I was normal.

But I knew something wasn't right.

I went to see an "expert" and he, with the help of his assistant, prescribed an unusual diet and an even more unusual regime in which I did not feel comfortable.

I was nervous about their orders, but when I tried to ask questions, they batted them away like irritating flies and the "expert" actually walked out on me, saying, "You'll do fine, fine..."

I was not doing fine and no one would listen to me. No professional doctor, anyway.

Home life was becoming increasingly stressful in 2012 in ways I cannot nor should I go into. But my stress did play a part in my worsening symptoms.

Also playing a part were the nurses telling me it was all in my head, that I was just too anxious, that I had too much stress.

I felt unacknowledged, unheard, invalidated.

During this time, my daily life was a push against the fleshly instincts of wanting to exert control on my life - or the lives around me. If I couldn't control my own life, I'd clamp around others' My temper flared. I spit red anger at kids for the smallest things. And I fell into a pit of despair around the Fall of 2012 going into early January of '13.

I was exhausted. I had had numerous procedures, one too painful to want to remember, and still no answer.

But I knew that whatever I was walking around with that God was beside me. I could feel His Presence, but I wasn't sure what He was telling me.

Until today in the car after an appointment that I thought would give me the title to my story.

A few days ago I found out that, unbeknownst to me, my mother had Endometriosis in her early 40s as well as fibroid cysts and, ultimately, had to have a hysterectomy.

I went to my doctor with this new genetic possibility...and, besides, it fit my pain so well. It had all the descriptions, it had all the correct verbs and adjectives. I found my character in the book of Endometriosis.

And when my general practitioner gave me an exam and said she thought she felt something...that could be Endo...I grasped onto that name, that diagnosis, that title, and ran as though my life depended on it.

I wanted to shout it from the roof - or at least out my car windows: I have Endometriosis! I have a name for it! I can tell you what it is and what they are going to do and when I will get better!

And there is a certain understandable element to clutching onto a diagnosis after years of unnameable pain.

Yet...I feel ashamed now looking at how I proclaimed and gun-jumped regarding the maybe-diagnosis.

Today I felt foolish as I visited the doctor who said I very well might have Endo, but that all my pain was most likely not caused by this illness.

I felt like the wind was knocked out of me.

I felt like my cover was torn off of my story.

And then, after the angry tears and words in the car, I felt the Lord's hand on my shoulder and the Lord's heart speak directly to mine:

Do you think that you can't give Me glory by getting through exactly this? Do you think that you need a specific sign above your heard that advertises your ailments? Those on-lookers at Golgotha had no clue why My Son truly cried out in pain. Jesus had "King of the Jews" as the sign above him and even that was man's folly. You don't need a sign, child. You don't need to prove to anyone that you hurt. All my children hurt in some way; that is just the way, isn't it. You are not so different. How you can be Kingdom-different...and bring Me glory... is to praise Me even when your body hurts, even when you are angry and sad and confused. Bring all of that to Me. Do not rest your idolizing on doctors or family. They can't validate you the way I can. They can't name you. 

Child, I can name you. I did name you:

Chosen. Beloved. Heir. Holy and faithful. Forgiven. Loved. 

Do you need more names? Because I have them all - in Scripture. 

Child, open that Bible to get your title. Don't expect a doctor to give it to you. Don't hope for something that many people dread. I named you before you were even born.

I was astonished. Had I actually been...hoping?

And am I actually writing all this...now? To you, the public?

Yes, I am. I do not hide behind my computer screen very well. I know I sometimes have flawed boundaries, but I also know that with that flaw comes the deep need to live with a healthy dose of transparency so that I can admit when thoughts have shaped wrong and life has gone askew.

And...yes...life has gone askew.

I thought that if I had a diagnosis of some illness, then I could battle through it by relying on God's strength within me, go through my "valley of the shadow," for sure, but then come out the other side with more bolstering faith than I'd know what to do with.

Many of my favorite authors and radio hosts have that kind of story. They've endured horrific things: abuse, illness, atrocity. And yet here they are now, with books or programs or ministries - all serving God in such honorable ways.

So did I think I had to do it that way?

I really did.

I sigh a big sigh right now. It is sad and shameful to know that I thought that way.

That I really believed I had to let the world name me in order to serve God.

The suffering I endured for much of my life has been nameless and general. Some doctors tried to link my severe depression in my teens and 20s to more specific things like bipolar or borderline personality disorder.

But, truly, my entire life was in dis-order. I didn't know whether I was coming or going until I fell onto the floor in 2010 and saw the Lord before me and that Great Whoosh came upon me and I changed, I grew, I stretched, and I made the best decision of my life.

Jesus never promised us easy. He promised His Presence during the hard (John 16:33) so why did I think that my story would be like others'?

My confession, my prayer, with head bowed is this:

Lord, I confess to you my sin of comparison. You created me to be unique and special unto You and I must believe that I am. I must believe what Your Word says of me and because of those promises I come to You seeking forgiveness for wanting the doctors to give me a title to my story, a name to my pain. I was trying to be the Author and not letting you work through me. I think and write all the time about the concept of "letting go." I write and read and think about the concept of gratitude all the time - and yet all this writing, reading, and thinking has not brought me to a true understanding of ...

"Be still and know that I am God." 
~ Psalm 46:10a

Such a simple-sounding and oft-used verse, but I studied it in some detail and You revealed it to me and I thank you. Help me to cease striving. Help me to stop trying to be my own Author and to live the life You have written for me. I know You are not done yet and so I remain Your servant, a child who loves You and wants to glorify You in the love and strength and faith that I carry with me every day. Help my honest outpourings in this blog illuminate some truth for some person. Let someone understand better what took me much pain to learn - and which I am still learning. 

I thank you for my body that can walk and talk and move and pump blood and work as well as it does. I know there are so many who do not have that. I pray for all who suffer - in mind, body, and spirit. I pray that they would seek You and know You to be the God of all Comforts and find rest and peace in that truth. 

Continue to grow me, Lord. Continue to draw me closer to You and to write my story. 

I think the best title, the best name I can think of is:

Yours. 

I belong to the Lord. 

I am Yours.

In Your Holy Name I pray,
Amen.

And so I stumble upon this verse and chuckle:

"What do people get for all the toil and anxious striving with which they labor under the sun? All their days their work is grief and pain; even at night their minds do not rest. This too is meaningless."

~ Ecclesiastes 2:22-23

For hasn't all my anxiety and worry been toil and meaningless? I bathed in grief and pain and yes, even at night, this mind did not rest.

And then I think of the God of All Comforts verse in 2 Cortinthians 1:3-5 (ESV):

" Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and God of all comfort,  who comforts us in all our affliction, so that we may be able to comfort those who are in any affliction, with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God. For as we share abundantly in Christ's sufferings, so through Christ we share abundantly in comfort too."

************************************

February 12, 2013

Friends, since the days since I drafted this blog entry out, much more has been revealed, particularly about the rest of 2 Corinthians 1 which adds so much to my story. 

While it is a difficult journey to allow God to name me and to not be lured in by false names, I am dedicated as I walk this road. 

I thank you for reading my words, bare and naked, and hope that you give mercy and forgiveness for this one's naivety. 

Thank you for such grace. 

May you be blessed as you walk with the Lord this week and always.

The Story Table: When All You Can Do is Lay There

[note: this took many days to write, so bare with me as it is now three or four days after this event]

I'm sprawled out on the operating table right now.

I have been split completely open by mess.

Things I have neglected kept building and building; my self-care had gone shamefully mismanaged and neglected. Things were not going well.

I am not saying things are perfect now, as I lie on the table. I mean, I see that God's hands are ready to mold me. Take me apart, squish me together again, reshape me, do all kinds of things.

I see that God is doing work in me.

And it's scary.

There have been nights - recent nights - where I have sobbed on the laundry room floor and cried out at God, not necessarily to Him - and said, "I don't want this call! I don't want to do what you want me to do."

I've gone to the brink of suffering and almost lost my footing and let myself be swallowed.

And today I was completely split open.

Thanks to a few trusted counselors and a friend, I'm gaining some perspective bit by bit. I'm realizing how I need to care for myself. I need to put my oxygen mask on before I can care for anybody.

And let me tell you - I've let my oxygen mask hang there like a tree ornament for years now.

Oh nevermind you, I'd say to myself. It's selfish to think of yourself.

(As God whispers His command: "love others as yourself")

Nevermind you, I've repeated for twenty-plus years. You aren't worth it.

But no more. I am not letting the enemy's lies dictate my worth. I will not rely on anyone but the Lord to tell me who I am.

So I have taken an R&R evening. I have had to force my mind not to dwell on whether she did all her homework or if that electric bill sitting on the counter is going to tip us into the red. I have had to walk away from a sink full of dishes.

This is not piously said.

I say this in shame because I had to force myself to say:

I am breaking. I need help. I need saving. If I don't change something now, I will be lost forever.

Lord, save me. Stop this. I am Yours.

So although the image of me on an operating table sounds completely helpless and vulnerable, I have complete confidence in the Almighty to make me into who He wants me to be.

Why am I sharing this with the blogosphere? And who, really, reads my blog, anyway?

Reading my dear internet-sister-in-Christ, Michele-Lyn's blog entry, "What is alifesurrendered.com?" I read many of my own mission statements.

I can't keep quiet. What happens inside this heart is important. Not because I am more important than anyone else, but because I know God is doing important things in me.

I am becoming stronger not by my own efforts, but because I lean on Christ to strengthen me (Philippians 4:13).

My life will be a testimony. It already is.

God will use my story to help others. He uses all of our stories if we let Him.

Our story is His story.

That is what I desire - for my story to reveal His story.

Great Physician, here I am on Your table. I want to be molded, changed. I know I am made new by my faith  (2 Corinthians 5:17) and I also know that I will continue to struggle (John 16:33) so I ask you that you humble me enough to listen to You always. I ask that you humble me so that I may carry out the immense calling that you have for me - to serve my family and model Your love. As much as my heart beats for Daniela in her village, for Compassion International, Food for the Hungry, WorldVision, Operation Baby Rescue, and so many wonderful organizations that help the needy...my mission field is my home. The needy children are my own stepchildren who God has placed in my life. And God placed me in their lives. It goes both ways.

And Lord, I'm sorry that I was getting so overwhelmed and upset and I wiggled and strained against Your guidance. Sometimes it is so hard, Lord. Sometimes, I admit, I don't want this call.

I admit it. I am human.

I heard on Susie Larson's "Live the Promise" show (yesterday? I forget) concerning God's calling, that, if your heart resists a bit when you hear God calling you to do something, then that usually means you know that is what you ought to do.

Why? Because it's probably hard. And we have a hard time with the hard stuff. 

Lord, I wrote a few days ago - bring it on.

And oh, you did.

You did so much that I found myself split open. I know you didn't cause this immense suffering these past weeks or months, but I know now that it needed to happen. I needed to be split open to see the light - Your light.

I needed to remember where I come from, Who I come from, where I must serve, and who I must serve.

I needed to remember who I am.

I am not anything or anyone defined by my childhood friends or current friends; I am not defined by roles placed on me by family. I am Yours, first.

I seek You, Lord. I seek to love others as I...

I am learning to love myself.

That is hard to type. I still hear echoes of ugly in my head.

But You ask me to love others as I love myself.

So...in order to love others perhaps I must dare to love myself.

Perhaps I must dare to let myself be split open and lay on that operating table and release my life into Your will.

And it says - your will is that I love myself.

And others.

And You.

Lord, help me love.

Help the ugly voices turn truthful.

Help the lies dissipate into steam on the mirror which quickly fades.

This I pray.

This I put out there in the blogosphere for Your glory and in hopes that someone might come along and read my story, Your story, and decide...

to love him/herself.

And to love others.

And to love You, Lord.

I chuckle as I look down at the necklace I wear every day. The abbreviated Bible verse has not felt personal until right now.

"Seek...to reflect Him"  2 Corinthians 

So Lord, I seek You and I lay upon the story table where You mold and move me. 

That's where the big stuff happens. That's where redemption is found. 

When You're in Denial about the Hard Stuff

free wallpaper from Proverbs 31 Ministries at http://www.proverbs31.org/freebies/

Oh God, I feel it. I feel the ache and the gnaw.

I have disappointed you.

You called me and I knew I was a chosen servant

Isaiah 42 (NIV)

The Servant of the Lord

“Here is my servant, whom I uphold,
    my chosen one in whom I delight;
I will put my Spirit on him,
    and he will bring justice to the nations.
He will not shout or cry out,
    or raise his voice in the streets.
A bruised reed he will not break,
    and a smoldering wick he will not snuff out.
In faithfulness he will bring forth justice;
     he will not falter or be discouraged
till he establishes justice on earth.
    In his teaching the islands will put their hope.”

This is what God the Lord says—
the Creator of the heavens, who stretches them out,
    who spreads out the earth with all that springs from it,
    who gives breath to its people,
    and life to those who walk on it:
 “I, the Lord, have called you in righteousness;
    I will take hold of your hand.
I will keep you and will make you
    to be a covenant for the people
    and a light for the Gentiles,
 to open eyes that are blind,
    to free captives from prison
    and to release from the dungeon those who sit in darkness.

 “I am the Lord; that is my name!
    I will not yield my glory to another
    or my praise to idols.
 See, the former things have taken place,
    and new things I declare;
before they spring into being
    I announce them to you.”

**********************************

So God, I say to You now...your servant has fallen. Not fallen at Your feet during the time of trail, as we are supposed to do, but my spirit has fallen. I gave up when I was not supposed to. I let the enemy win when I could have fought more. 

For that I am sorry. 

And yet I ponder Ann Voskamp's words from today's blog

"When did I start expecting successful Christian living to be smooth sailing instead of stepping out of the boat in the middle of a storm?"

Why am I continuously surprised when trials come my way? When children misbehave or, sometimes worse, make such poor decisions that you fear for them? When spouses fight and don't understand. When you yearn for the old life yet know very well that you are right where you are supposed to be, for "a time such as this" (Esther 4:14)?

Lord, I know better. I know that there will be suffering and trouble (John 16:33) and I even know what purpose that has. 

So why do I spin and spit and sob and rot? Why do I get caught up in the I-don't-want-to's and that's-not-fair's? Why do I question - no, argue - your plan for me?

Because...

it is hard.

And we humans don't like doing the hard stuff. 

And I dared to pray that dangerous prayer: Lord, bring it on. 

I knew what my call in this season of life was. It was not what I expected nor what I particularly wanted, but I said Lord, bring it on!

As though I was the karate student in my stepson's class when they get too tired and want to quit. The instructor has instructed them to yell out, "Bring it on, sir!"

And Sir, I did say to bring it on. 

And You did. 

So why am I surprised that life is a daily struggle and has been for a while?

I know you are doing a fantastic work in each of us, yet I still squirm and wiggle, moan and complain. 

I have to do this hard stuff. I can't give up nor ask my mother to sign a note to my gym teacher excusing me from doing the high-jump because I am too anxiety-plagued. 

It's time to do the hard stuff. 

So Lord, I am sorry that this heart is prone to wander, prone to leave the Father Almighty who I love so much. I am sorry I put humans' opinions above Your own. 

I am sorry for regressing. 

Head up and eyes toward Heaven, I am ready for the day which begins tomorrow. 

Nothing extraordinary planned, just another day. However, it is a day where I can start anew. 

That's the joy of You, Lord. I mess up on the hard stuff tonight, but I know you love and forgive me; I know you recognize my repentance and love for You. I mess up on the hard stuff tonight, but I know that you give me the new day tomorrow. 

Hard stuff will continue to rain down, this I know. 

Seal my heart, Lord. Seal it to Thy courts above. 

Lay It Down

Crying tonight. Tears for the broken ones in my home, tears for the brokenness within me. Tears for the inability to help any of it, to fix any of it, to control any of it.

Grieve for the one in my home who blames God, the girl who thinks she is too broken and that God is too cruel, thinks the sight of blood lets the inflating balloon sigh.

I know that thought. It is buried inside my box of youthful sins that I want to keep under the firm earth.

I am weary tonight. I wish I had a girlfriend to talk to right now, but I don't.

But I do have my God. And so we will be talking in a short while as I lie down to go to sleep.

But before that, I want to share this song with you. Click on the link:

"Lay It Down"

While I can't figure out how to embed actual videos in this new blog format, please do visit that song. Visit those images.

Maybe the both of us can lay down these burdens for a while.

The Yoke and the Burden

“Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.” – Matthew 11:28-30

I’ve been thinking about the concept of a yoke. In a literal sense, “the word ‘Yoke’ means a bar of wood, so constructed as to unite two animals (usually oxen), enabling them to work in the fields, drawing loads, pulling instruments used for farming” (Bibleseo.com).  

Figuratively, it can mean slavery (1 Tim 6:1), Servanthood (Lev 26:13 and Jer 27:8-12), Submission, Forced Subjection, Burden, Load, Oppression (Isaiah 9:4), and Bondage to Sin (Lam 1:14).

So Jesus is offering his “yoke” to us in order to learn from him. Is he offering the burden he carries? The oppression and load that our sins put upon him created? That’s what I thought at first. But Jesus wouldn’t give us a burden to carry, much less the sins he’s had to take upon himself in order to save and redeem us. He took that on for us so we would be set free. So it’s not the burden of sin that is his “yoke.” Then what is it?

I think the key to finding out what the yoke is, is in the phrase, “for I am gentle and humble in heart.”  Jesus offers us something and that is himself: gentle and humble in heart. He asks us to take upon those traits. Perhaps his offering is this (paraphrased by me): if you become gentle and humble in heart, you, too, will find peace and rest.

Another verse that baffles me is, “For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.” Do you believe what Jesus offers is easy? In some ways, I have found it to be the easiest thing in the world – to follow him, to love each other, to be honorable and genuine, to serve others as Jesus did. I try to do that in my job every day and then come home and do my best to serve my husband and family with love and appreciation and acts of service (sometimes I can improve upon that last one).

Yet in other ways I find this yoke that Jesus says is easy to be extremely hard. It has been hard to let go of my New Agey ways. To get rid of the things that weren’t “of God” and those things which drew me away from his side and path. It has also been hard to love those who “persecute me.” In other words, to love my enemy, to love those who don’t necessarily like me or are good to me…to extend grace, peace and love to them. Boy, has that been a struggle!

And understanding that the Christian walk does not mean a struggle-free walk – that has quite possibly been the most difficult realization. In fact, in some areas, I have found that being a Christian makes situations more complicated and challenging.

But I think back to Jesus saying, with arms outstretched, “for my yoke is easy and my burden is light” and I want to run into those arms and embrace him, surely do I want to take up his yoke. I want to follow him. But then there’s that word: burden. Instinctively I cringe at that word.

We carry a lot of burdens around with us, don’t we? I know, for me, I feel a great weight on my shoulders from my responsibilities of being a good stepmother, a good wife, a good worker, a good daughter, a good friend, and above all that, a good Christ-follower. When days go nicely, those things don’t feel like a burden at all, but one bad phone call or one snarky comment can make all those things tumble down upon me like a rockslide. You bet I feel burdened.

And yet… I feel a whisper…that is the burden I pick up for myself. Jesus does not place those burdens on my shoulders. He asks me to follow him. The expectations I have for myself, the things I try to do by my own strength – that is not exactly listening to Jesus’ commands, is it.  He wishes for me (us) to place my trust and faith in him, to surrender the power I think I have over to him and to let go of control. That doesn’t mean I become a powerless puppets, on the contrary. I have found that when I release my self-made burdens to God, I feel unforgettably lighter and better.

So is his yoke easy and his burden light? I’ve decided that my heavy burden is self and circumstance-made, not placed upon me by the Lord. He asks for me to let go of all that “stuff.”

Faith is trust and belief in that which we cannot see, right?

An easy yoke and a light burden is a difficult yoke and a heavy burden lifted up to God.

Won’t you follow it, too?

It is especially important during this holiday season as we get bogged down with shopping for presents and trying to make every family member from all sides happy. As we try to give the perfect Christmas to our kids and of course we must give a little bit away for the needy, right? Oh, I’m not saying those things aren’t important, but let’s have perspective. Our to-do lists create mountains of paper on our kitchen counter until Christmas Eve, the night of the birth of the babe who came to save us all, where we suddenly want to scream at all the things we have left to do and all the things we don’t think we’ve done enough of. Suddenly we are failures and we deem this holiday a failure.

Please don’t let that be your Christmas. Follow the easy yoke and the light burden that Jesus offers. Release all those stresses to him and open the eyes of your heart – look around you at the smiling children who are just thrilled to receive a tight embrace and a loving word. Look at the beautiful light displays around your neighborhood and marvel at how it illuminates the block. Thank God that we (in southern Wisconsin) haven’t had a huge snowfall yet.

Yes, count your blessings! Go out and get Ann Voskamp’s, “One Thousand Gifts” and start your New Year being more aware of the splendor of God and take up that dare to be more fully awake and alive.

His yoke is easy and his burden is light – if you let it be. If you let go of the trappings of the World and our culture, the trappings of what our society has made Christmas into: focused on gifts, money, the most of this, the most of that.

Mercy to you this Christmas. Peace to you this Christmas.

I invite you to take a breath. Did you do that? Okay, now stand up straight and notice your shoulders. Are they tight and heavy? Go to a window and look upward. Imagine yourself releasing all the world and you-placed burdens until you can envision them as balloons floating up to the sky. Jesus can take them. He can handle it. He wants  to handle it.

A prayer from me:

Dear Father in Heaven,

I release all the rushing around I do this season, all the frantic buying of gifts when I know we don’t have enough money nor do our kids need that many gifts. Lord, I thank you for blessing my family with good health, financial provision, enough food and shelter and love. Please bless our family with your presence and infuse our home with love. Help these kids know they are safe and loved eternally – by you, Jesus, and by us as their parents. Lord, take away the “perfect Christmas” I carry around in my head. There is no perfection that we humans can create and counting on that is asking to be let down. I rely on you, Lord, to provide for us this Christmas and forever. I want to take upon your yoke and learn from you. Oh, I so want to learn from you! I know I need rest in my heart, Lord, and I ask that for everyone in this world as they hustle and bustle around this season. I ask you to bless them with deep breaths and the ability to see the beauty and blessings around them that aren’t bought or man-made. Dear Lord, help us to focus on the “reason for the season” – your son being born – what a delight! What a thing to behold! Let us celebrate that, Lord! Let us celebrate you by shaking our self-made burdens off of us like dander, like a dog shaking the wet out of his fur. Bless all who cry out to you, O Lord, and lift up their burdens and finally, Lord, give them rest.

In your precious name,

Amen.

Enjoy this powerful song, "Rest," by Downhere at the following site:

http://youtu.be/GaxwhhNxBi8

an interesting blog I came across while searching for a "yoke" image:

http://angelaambroise.blogspot.com/2011/02/letting-go-of-my-yoke-fear-of-cancer.html

She even references my favorite author, Ann Voskamp!