Ladies By Design

Held

It has been a difficult season. In the past weeks and months, I've felt the need to draw aside and refill, often. The harshness of holding onto life wears on me. I feel the urge to seek out that soothing Voice which hammers out what tears at my soul. I love that he dances over me, yet most often, I need to be held, to seek out quiet moments, to allow the silence to be filled with reassurance and rest. 

Today I began reading in Zephaniah chapter three. Zephaniah often spoke of catastrophe and destruction, of judgement for a rebellious people. Yet, when I read carefully, I find the book is not as depressing as it might, at first, appear.  Chapter three speaks of punishment for oppressors, and their removal from places of power. Nestled within these pages is a declaration of the Lord's great love for his daughters.  

Zephaniah 3:17 declares, 

"The Lord your God is with you, he is mighty to save.

He will take great delight in you, he will quiet you with his love,

He will rejoice over you with singing. 

I love this image of the all powerful Lord God wrapping me in his arms and quieting me with his love. Anyone who's perused my personal blog knows that since November, my family has been walking through the metaphorical fire, medically. As a new year dawned, my oldest son, who has type one diabetes, had two separate life threatening experiences within a few weeks of each other, and only a few weeks ago my husband ended up in the ICU after routine surgery due to a bad reaction to morphine.It is not, by any stretch of the imagination, normal to see a loved one laying on a hospital bed turning gray, as medical personnel surround, trying to sustain life. Nor is it normal for people in scrubs to be running down halls calling out that a precious life is in danger. It tears at my heart just to speak it. No matter how many times this happens it never becomes normal. But what I am grasping despite all of this is that regardless of my circumstances, God has already seen to my needs.

When there is stress, or fear, or grief- and I've know each repeatedly this year- God provides in a myriad of ways. One of which is through the biological design of our bodies. Most notably, our tear ducts, designed as a conduit of release. Surviving trauma of any sort requires the release that comes through the cleansing, salty, stress releasing gift of our tears. When we don't cry, our bodies suffer. In his great love for us, God has provided a way for us to pour out our burdens emotionally and physically. We don't have to hold it in. He designed us to have a way of natural release. No detoxifying spa methods needed. He's already given us what we need, through gifts he created in us from the beginning.

When my son lay in the hospital as "diabetic  emergency" was being shouted through the halls, I leaned over him, fighting back the tears, assuring him that "Mommy is here", taking that comforting stance because he was awake and afraid. When my husband was unable to stay awake, and having difficulty breathing, I was forced out of the tiny hospital room so that medical equipment could be moved in. I was, for the moment, no longer in the role of caregiver. I took a break to relieve myself, and found that instead what came was the relief of tears. 

I sobbed. I wept, I cried out. Release overtook me, and for a few minutes, I simply surrendered to the tears. And then, as suddenly as the flood surged, it ceased. I stood, speaking out loud, words unplanned springing forth, "God, here I am- use me." And the healer of my soul stepped in, equipping me. I returned to the room, and with the removal of the x ray machine, I was able to enter in again. This time, surrounded by the strength of the Lord, filled with his wisdom, and ready to do battle. For the first time in my natural life, I was able to pray over my loved one fighting for life, rather than be consumed by fear and grief. I was able to stay emotionally present in the moment, rather than simply survive.

I placed my hands on my husband and prayed as I'd never prayed before in such a moment- calling down God's healing hands, asking for restoration of breath and life. I spoke the words given to me in the moment- that God is not finished yet, that my husband's time here on this earth is not yet complete. I prayed until the words no longer came, and then, I rested, in quiet peace, knowing I'd prayed in partnership with the Spirit, not grasping my own way. The life struggle continued, and I was held.  Like the daughters of zion, I knew what it was to be quieted by his love. And I am convinced that the conduit which connected me to his strength was my tears.  As the tears removed the toxins in my body (built up through stress), both my body and my spirit found release. I was bouyed up emotionally as I cried out and connected to the One who holds me through the madness. 

In times of stress, fear, and even loss, we have a choice. As daughters of the King we have the privelege to seek out his comfort, his help. When we are hurting we can hold him at a distance and try to survive. Or we can seek the sweet release that comes from a good cry on his shoulders. When I reach out to him, he gathers me in, holding me close. As I cry out, he listens, he sooths, and I find that he is my strength. He is indeed Mighty to Save.  

~Bekah

A Time for Everything

I wake to the morning light, feeling as if I am under a weighted cloud. I’ve walked this road long enough to know that what haunts me is not clinical depression. No, there are other diagnoses that name the heaviness in my heart, and I realize that this is very much a place of grieving. My son is no longer growing, and I am afraid. Diabetes is a complicating factor; the treatment is as difficult as the condition. The load I bear increases, and PTSD often keeps my husband huddled in a place I cannot reach. I am lonely, weary of this life of consistent medical deluge. I want to stay in bed, snuggled under soft sheets, blanketed by fear and grief. I push through. Past anger to the sadness. Sometimes life is very, very hard. This is where I am, a place where medical terms crash into real life. I want to learn to live thanksgiving in the midst of the storm.

New life is manifested through conscious commitments to create a new pattern. My journey will involve healthy grieving paired with the giving of thanks. I tug against the process. I do not like how I feel while doing the work. I dread fleshing out what our culture often sees as weakness. Yet, there's another tugging at my heart and I know the truth. I will not heal if I do not grieve.

I remember a story I've known since childhood, from the book of John. Jesus escapes arrest only to have word come, "The one you love so very much is sick." I know this story well. "...oddly he stays where he is for two more days." (MSG) The God-man chooses to stay, so belief within those who follow him can grow. Four days past death Jesus arrives in Bethany. He knows his mission; to raise the dead. Yet he sees the flow of grief, and steps in. Anger and sadness wash over him, marks of the cycle. The Son of Man chose to grieve. Why was there a need to weep when He knew that God had given him authority to raise the dead? To set the standard for healthy grieving.

Our culture often sees strength as resisting tears, yet Jesus' power was shown through them. He continued to allow the cycle of grief as he approached the tomb, instructing, "Roll away the stone." Sisters protested the stench, but Jesus stood firm. "Didn't I tell you that if you believed you would see the glory of God?" The stone was removed, and standing before the tomb, Jesus gave thanks. "Father I'm grateful that you have listened to me. I know you always do listen." Even in death and loss Jesus found gratitude. An then, in the wake of decay, Jesus called forth new life. On a word and a prayer and a grateful heart, a miracle was borne. 

 Ecclesiastes 3:1 tells us, "For everything there is a season, a time for every activity under heaven." New life comes as I learn to balance grief with gratitude. There is a time to stand at the tomb and work through the loss, and there is a time to be grateful for what been given. Healing and gratitude are entwined with the rememberance that we are never alone. There is One who listens, and One who knows, for He chose to walk through grief to new life-- and more than once. Remember, the tomb is empty!!

~Bekah

 

 

The Sozo Life

As I set out to practice Eucharisteo (thanksgiving) through pendulum moments of life, I encounter "sozo", a greek word meaning to save. The "Sozo" salvation does not stop at securing eternity. Yes to salvation, to Sozo, is yes to wellness and wholeness in this life. If I have but one life here, one phrase to write, let it be to live fully in every moment from even the most tentative beginning to the final declaration at the end. And if Sozo, our very saving, is hinged on gratitude, then I must choose to allow my life to be punctuated by thanksgiving- even when my plans, my wishes, are crossed out, erased until the page itself is no longer there. When all that is left is a tearing in the parchment of my life, I can trust that God will write my story on a new page. No need to grope in the darkness looking for an instrument to write the story myself. When I give thanks even in the tearing, the Author can pen a better Once Upon A Time.

When I seize gratitude, my life's story is infused with light. Even in the mundane living of day to day repetitions. Even in the living past a loss. When is my life made whole? When I agree to give thanks- in all things, even that which I did not choose. What is it that Ann said in One Thousand Gifts? "Eucharisteo (thanksgiving) always precedes the miracle." Yes. When I release expectation and disappointment and that which has not worked out according to my plans- when I lay these down and gather gratitude instead, then the Miracle can begin. And it has.

My own new narrative began with two words: Thank you, scrolled in soft black ink across the coolness of a blank page. To my husband, who endured war of nations and of soul, and more than once battled the choice of leaving this reality for the next. Yet, he remembered our family, our boys, and the honor of those who served, giving all. And he stayed. He did the work to look pain and death in the blackest of eyes and he shook his head at the darkness, and, despite his scarred heart, he stayed.

And so I move my pen across the page until Thank You is written into my heart. Thank you for the staying. And I listed the ways he shows love to me, ways both little and large. Suddenly I am weeping for those I know that lost love in one blazing moment. I see the grief of the leaving, the gaping loss. I have been a blind woman, caught up in the grief of my own kind of loss; and I lost sight of the miracle of the staying. There are no words. It is time to let go. Whys and wonderings set into that mystery cup, blinking out of tears remaining, and breaths, slow and deep, until I can grasp gratitude. Stillness heals and again I give thanks for my husband choosing life and love and work and healing when years are long and wounds go deep. Thank you, for courage to work towards wellness, for loving me enough to stay when leaving seemed the easier way. Thank you, my love, for the staying.

 ~Bekah

My Song, Restored

How did I find my way to One Thousand Gifts by Ann Voskamp? Truthfully I cannot quite piece together the journey. Perhaps it was a friend, a sister, a fellow daughter of the King that gave me direction. Perhaps it was the longing that led me to an online bookstore, where the keys I touched brought me to the place I needed to be. In truth, it was the Lover of my Soul drawing, beckoning, holding me near, inviting me to revel in His words, whispered time and time again, to the very depths of my heart.

Today I found a holy experience at my fingertips (www.aholyexperience.com). The words and pictures hold simplicity and joy, but the beauty that enraptured my soul was the music. I closed my eyes and surrendered. Being utterly filled, I allowed the heart of God to cradle places that were unknown even to myself. Places only He can embrace. As the notes trilled I reveled in His touch- the breath of God, here…surrounding me, teaching me to know Him and trust Him for who He longs to be in and through and for me.

It was not always this way. Over time, stress and struggle and loss stifled my song. Perhaps I allowed it, or perhaps I was simply engulfed,for life as I knew was coming to an end. I had not the strength to protect that which He formed in me when I was lovingly woven together. (Psalm 139) That is a story to be read elsewhere, but here and now I will say that slowly but surely my song was battered and scarred and torn, over time--and I resisted with all the strength I knew. Until that moment when it was shattered and ground into pieces. Suddenly the word forever seemed like a cage, a place of anguish, a haunted never rather than the hope of always. I wondered, would I ever sing again? I could not see beyond the pain, yet I held to hope. Or rather, He held me.

And now, years after diagnoses that I thought would destroy my world, I have found restoration. Hope. And yes, even joy. My song is returning- and the key to unlocking what has been closed off (and tightly guarded) is eucharisteo- life giving gratitude. A conscious effort to see beauty amidst storms.

Have you ever smelled the rain coming? That scent characterizes my life. The scent before the rain seems to be the presence of God; the rain itself, the cleansing that I so desire. The rainbows are the promise that He will be with me. Yet, the song is not just found in the rainbow. The song begins with the scent of rain, continues through the showers, through the deluge, even through the mist that that conceals the steps in front of me. The song is part of His sustenance. I want to learn to hear it when life sprinkles and when life pours. And no matter what is pouring in, I desire that what is poured out is my own aria of eucharisteo.

~Bekah

The Altar

It is unusual for the school nurse to be out on Tuesday, but since we had one day's notice about the change in routine, the school counselor and I met yesterday to plan Tyler's back up care, and I was hopeful that all would proceed smoothly.  We had a plan in place, and it was under control. Or so I thought.

This morning Mrs. Warneke (the counselor) pulled me into her office to let me know that Tyler's classroom teacher, who has taken the diabetes training, and most importantly, knows how to give the emergency shot if the nurse is out, is at home with a sick child. And the paraprofessional who assists in Tyler's classroom and can oversee his blood glucose checks and snacks happens to be home sick, as well. So despite the hierarchy of "back up personnel" for the days the nurse is not on site, it seems that everyone who knows how to take care of Tyler care at school is not in the building today. When confronted with such a situation, I would usually decide to drop everything and spend the day back and forth to the elementary school managing Tyler's care myself. It would be hectic, but I would make sure he was taken care of, myself. But the last few days of the month are the more intense days for my work schedule. Even though I do not want to, I really need to step back and allow the school to cover Tyler's general care today. They can manage Tyler's care at school, and this will free me to take care of all my responsibilities. I will be able to run up there if there is an emergency, but I need to let go of Tyler's routine care and place it in the capable hands of the school counselor.

Mrs. Warneke is a wonderful support. She already had a plan for today's care, enlisting the help of another paraprofessional who assisted with Tyler's Blood Glucose checks on a recent field trip. They are going to work together to cover the normal BG checks and daily routine. She went over the changes with Tyler, and encouraged him to use his voice and "be persistent" if he needs help and the sub forgets "the signal" we've worked out with his teachers.  I am confident in the staff's ability to handle everything, but yet, I am fighting worry. "I'm just a phone call away," I reassured the ladies (and myself). There has been an upset in the way that things usually work, and also in our first contingency plan, and I am finding that fear can easily give way to panic.

Questions pour into my mind like pounding rain. What if there is an emergency? Will the sub know what to do? Will she be able to track down the right people to help? Worse case scenario: What if counselor is out of her office and Tyler has a seizure?  Who will call 911?  

The principal happens to be covering the office today because one of the secretaries is also out. (And my youngest has a sub, too.) A lot of the normal staff seems to be gone today. There are a lot of variables, a lot of unknowns, and what I am finding is that when something in my life seems out of my control, I tend to attempt to exert MORE control over other areas in my life. I want to frantically clean the house so that something in my life appears to be in order.  In such cases, I can find often myself trying to control my husband or children, or the people around me. Or even the cat (good luck with that one!) I recognize the signs, and how I am responding to my worry, and though I feel helpless and out of control, I know that at some point I have to take it all to the altar.

Several years ago, as I was coming to terms with my son having a life altering condition, the Lord drew me to the story of Abraham. The Lord asked him to take his son to the altar; his only son left, for his other son was lost to him, driven away into the desert. Abraham obeyed. It must have been a difficult journey, physically and emotionally, and I often wonder what battles Abraham was fighting in his own mind. Did he have a sense of urgency in his preparations, or did he dread the journey? Did he command his servants with more determination than usual? Did directing his servants in their daily tasks give him a sense of control over something?  Anything?

"On the third day, Abraham looked up and saw the place in the distance."  The Place where his life would be forever altered, in one way or another. God had given him a promise, a promise for his family to be established, a heritage to be passed down. It was a promise that he later learned would come through this son, and no other. Isaac was "The son of the promise." Yet, in order for Abraham's life to be altered, he had to meet God at the actual altar. The altar was a vital  part of the journey to the promise. Painful, but imperative.

As Abraham took the wood for the sacrifice and placed it on his son, did his heart break? Did he wish he could take the burden on himself? Did he wish he did not have to make this grueling journey? Did he wish he could change his reality... to control the outcome? To think that he blindly obeyed, without question, is to minimize Abraham's faithfulness, or brush over Abraham's inherent human-ness.

As humans, we battle for control, yet rarely actually have it. When our reality does not look like we think it should, we often try to control others, yet desperately need to control ourselves instead. Especially when it comes to the people we hold most dear. Yet, control is only an illusion. Perhaps Abraham recognized this. In any case, Abraham did not have all the answers, and he surely struggled with the unknown, but yet, he chose to trust God, and to obey. To surrender control and take his son to the altar.

And like Abraham, I will only find peace if I, too, make the journey to the altar and leave my precious son in the hands of the Lord.

My prayer:

Holy Father, it terrifies me to face unanticipated changes. I confess I am afraid of what could happen. I fear the unknown, I fear difficulties and loss. I do not want my son to suffer. He carries such a burden for one so young.

I come to you and I bring all the worries, all the fear, all the heartache, and I place it all on the altar. I surrender my son, my precious child, who I love, into your loving hands. I give His very life to you and I yield to Your plans and purposes for him. I let him go, Lord. I choose to trust in You, Lord, and You alone.

 

 

Let Faith Arise

Recently I was reminded, when our hearts are opened with simple childlike faith, anything is possible! It's been nearly two weeks ago now that our area was hit with severe thunderstorms and strong winds.  Tornado warnings flashed on the television while the sound of sirens penetrated my neighborhood.  Although Texas is no stranger to such weather conditions, it was one of the worst storms I have ever experienced.  When I opened my front door to see how bad it looked, the trees in my front yard were bent over by the force of the tumultuous winds.  You could actually see the blustery weather pushing the rain, the sky appeared to be a brownish green, and it was indeed a scary sight.  I immediately rushed to the phone to call my daughter and make certain she was in her home and not on the road.  When Chelsi answered the phone, I could hear my little Aubrey, she crying in the background.  Not only was she frightened from all the thunder and lightning, but our little 5 year old baby girl was crying about "Haiti".  At first, her mother couldn't make out what she was saying:  all she could understand were the words:  "What about Haiti?"  As it turned out, Aubrey's distress was for a little girl who lived in a poor village in Haiti who hadn't a roof over her head.  The child happens to be one of the mission kids that Aubrey's school supports.  It was difficult for Aubrey to comprehend that the storms we were experiencing in Dallas, Texas were not affecting her friend in Haiti.  While her mommy tried to explain that her friend was not in any danger, Aubrey continued to cry.  By this time, my daughter asked if she could give me a call back after she calmed Aubrey down a little.  As I let Chelsi go, I encouraged her to pick up Aubrey and pray with her.

After about twenty minutes of very heavy rains, the noise and chaos that had been surrounding us abruptly came to peaceful calm.  The skies had cleared and the worst of the storm had passed over us.  Within minutes, the phone rang.  As expected, it was my daughter Chelsi.  With her voice shaking, she began to tell me about her little girl's incredible prayer.  She tearfully said:  "Oh mom, Aubrey's prayer was simple, innocent and full of faith.  With tears streaming down her cheeks, she pleaded with the Lord to protect her friend in Haiti and make the storms go away."  Aubrey's brokenness and fervency had moved her mommy to tears.  With the storms gone now, Chelsi walked Aubrey outside to ease her mind.  She informed Aubrey that her prayer had been answered.  Aubrey shouted with excitement, "He heard me mommy!  He's really real, He's really real!  I can't wait to tell all my friends at school tomorrow that Jesus is real!"  All fear and anxiety was gone, she leaped in the yard with her heart full of praise.  Without her even knowing, Aubrey's faith had instantly risen to another level.  Until now, prayer had been an act of faith without any substantial results that she could really grasp.  Nonetheless, faith as she knew it would never be the same.  It is as if she has graduated to another level!

Perhaps you find yourself in a place where faith seems beyond your grasp.  Life has bombarded you so that you do not know how to even begin to reignite the flame of faith again.  I assure you it will not take much.  Just like the simple faith of a child who trusted in a God who could calm the storm, all you need to do is believe a little, open your heart, and trust that He is really real.  I did it!  I found that sometimes stretching ourselves can create an atmosphere of faith.  For me, sharing my voice on the Ladies by Design website required me to believe.  I had to trust God and take a step in faith.  I began with a simple bio, believe me that was rough.  But, I let my faith arise, so the next step was to believe that I could scale walls.  As I began to believe in my own voice again, I had to confront walls of insecurity, because of my past, walls of fear, afraid that what I had to share would never impact lives or help other women live as ladies by design.  However, the truth of the matter is that I was never alone; God was with me all along.  I realized that He created each one of us with a voice that could change lives, including me.  My faith has risen to such a level that I can proclaim with confidence, I have a purpose.  We were fearfully and wonderfully made, designed for greatness.  Are you ready to see the storm clouds move out of your situation?  Are you ready to go to another level?  Are you ready to let your faith arise?  I dare you, take a leap of faith, or a simple step, either way, there are gifts that have been placed inside of you by the One who designed you with love.