Category Archives: Faith

Where Is My Footing

I am not the most sure-footed person. My vision and some health history make me feel pretty unsteady at times. I am not a fan of stairs. I don’t walk on rocks if I can help it. Striding on sand is not my thing. I am slow and careful.

Except in my faith. I have always had a home in the church since I first started attending at age 4. I jumped right into the Christian subculture. I went to Christian schools for part of my growing up and for college. I went to purity conferences and Christian concerts as a teen. Church camp from age 9-16. Went back as a counselor in college for a couple of years. I even traveled with a Christian music group as their interpreter for the Deaf after college.

What I am trying to communicate is, I wasn’t just a Christian, it was my culture, how I voted, and how I viewed the world.

It is still how I view the world. I am first and foremost a Christian.

But somehow I left the culture. I left that world.

I still attend church and I still love to tell people about Jesus. I am still a Christian who homeschools my girls.

And yet, I am not at home in the culture.

By and large, if people in the community knew how I voted I am afraid I would be looked down upon. Don’t get me wrong, I am not necessarily quiet about my views so many know, and most who do still love me, but I keep quiet a lot in order to keep the peace. My poor husband and kids get an earful but I really do bite my tongue.

It is hurting me.

I want to scream, if you disagree so much with someone for their life and choices that you villify them, how will they believe you if you say Jesus loves them?

https://www.bible.com/bible/59/1JN.4.ESV

If anyone says, “I love God,” and hates his brother, he is a liar; for he who does not love his brother whom he has seen cannot love God whom he has not seen. I John 4:20.

One version of the Bible implied this only meant other Christians but I disagree that is what was meant here. If you want to really speak into someone’s life, you must sometimes say hard things, you sometimes challenge someone. Who do we accept this kind of talk from? Someone we don’t know? No. Someone who we know dislikes or disapproves of us? Surely not. Like never. Does that mean I have to agree with everything someone says in order to talk about Jesus, no, but it is highly likely that if I decide to talk about Jesus, I better have chosen to be authentic, loving, and involved beforehand.

Does this mean I am only loving and nice if I want to talk about Jesus? No. That’s not authentic or invested either. I should be loving and nice regardless.

Honestly, I can only take care of my own behaviors regardless of what I think someone else should be or do. My job is me.

Unfortunately, some of those claiming to follow the same Jesus I do make it hard to walk in peace. I spend more time explaining the hatred away that those I want to talk about Jesus with see than I do talking about the truth of Jesus. And I am tired of it.

And I am out of step with so much of what I used to think it meant to be a Christian. And that leaves me feeling like I am walking down a set of stairs to the rocks below and right into the sand…uncomfortable and unsteady.

I don’t like it.

I find myself less and less interested in hanging out with other Christians. I told my hubby that and he said, “But what about all the swear words and the foul language?” Right now I would rather deal with that.

I would rather sit with the sinners than the saints.

To The Young

I have a few thoughts rolling around in my head…

I was pretty sick as a kid.  It started young, about 6 weeks early.  Literally, I was a preemie.

Walking pneumonia was one of my illnesses of choice.

Eh, that’s really neither here nor there.

The big issue that affected my teen years was Multiple Sclerosis (MS).  I was diagnosed at 15 but there were symptoms much younger.  It stunk.  I was never cool in the first place and I was even less cool while using a cane in high school.

Did I mention it stunk?  The rounds of testing.  The endless steroid doses.  Back then prednisone was the only treatment.  That stunk too.

And it followed me to college.  It was a little easier there.  Those kids were much better about it.  But it still stunk.  Starting the first meds for MS and all the nasty side effects.  Feeling like I had the flu every other day.  Giving myself injections every other day.  I still have those scars 23 years later.

And amidst it all, seeing a lot of dreams go slipping through my fingers.  I had been called as a missionary as a 13-year-old.  How would that ever happen now?  I had dreams of marriage and a family.  Who would marry me now?  How could I have kids when I was too sick to take care of them?  It was so hard.

But there was just enough grace for each day.

My high school experience did not look like I wanted it to…

My college experience didn’t always look like I wanted it to…

But God was faithful.

He brought me through each.  On the path He had for me.

The MS followed me out of college and into the workforce.

I fought hard against the MS.  Fifteen hospital stays in 3 years, 2 over a month long and involved me using a walker, wheelchair, and cane until I finally learned to walk again.

And somewhere in this craziness, God brought a man that loved me.  And a doctor who specialized in MS…and in giving people their lives back.  He ended the constant hospitalizations and introduced a treatment plan that was hard, but effective.  I was so sick during that time,  but there were shoots of hope again. Between this doctor and this guy crazy enough to walk with me through the ups and downs, God gave me the confidence to continue into marriage.

And then children.

And remission.

Twelve years of remission.  Healing from the MS.

He has even redeemed my call to missions.

Life is not exactly easy or perfect, but I can tell you with confidence, that God was there through every step, or non-step, of the journey.  His hand was there through the sleepless nights of pain and vertigo.  He sat with me through the side effects of the medications that were meant to help me.  He worked through each of those doctors that looked at me, even those who had the worst bedside manner EVER.

Chronic illness is not easy and it is even harder when you are young.  It is hard to see your friends doing what you can’t.  It is hard to feel old when you just want to hang out with friends.  It is hard to be surrounded by waiting rooms full of people so much older than you…and to be afraid of your future.

It is hard.

But you don’t face it alone.  Rely on those God has put in your life. Lean hard.

And all those promises from God?  They are true.  They are yes and amen, no matter how bleak the hospital room.  No matter how clueless the doctors may be.  They are yes and amen.

I can not promise that your journey with chronic illness will lead to healing, but I do know that EVERY promise God gives you, He is faithful to fulfill.  In His time and in His way.

I know it because I have lived it.

Come and Drink

The last couple weeks have been…for the lack of a better term…weird.  Running has been on a hiatus.  I have not been planning when and where to run, but rather when and where to stretch and which stretch will make me magically all better.

None have.

Don’t get me wrong, I am improving.  I did do a little running this weekend and I have much hope that soon I will be back to pounding out the miles.

In this two weeks, I have spent a lot of time begging God to bring the strength back to my leg.  But I realized today, I haven’t spent much time, if any, asking Him to be my strength.  To be my source of satisfaction.

This weekend really highlighted this for me.  I have been fighting against a desperate blanket of depression.  Despising the fact that I could not fix it with my running and worried the lowered meds wouldn’t be feasible long-term.

Thankfully the Lord reminded me that much of that depression is coming because the Ibuprofen I have been taking for the leg reduces the effectiveness of my primary bipolar medication.

Yet, even today, among some amazing time with Christian friends I adore, there was an emptiness, a hollowness.  I know a great deal of that is my inability to live in the moment and it is my overwhelming fear that I will screw up every single friendship I have and that maybe I don’t even actually have any friends, but that is a separate topic.  Tonight, I realized where that emptiness really is coming from.  I am not allowing the Lord to be my portion, I am not allowing the Lord to satisfy my desires.  Just as I realized that this verse popped up, literally, on my phone.

 Revelation 22:17 The Spirit and the bride say, “Come!” And let the one who hears say, “Come!” Let the one who is thirsty come; and let the one who wishes take the free gift of the water of life.

I want the water of life.  I want to draw close to Jesus.  I want to trust Him as I often forget to do.  I want to allow Jesus to walk with me, not just keep Him from afar in a boat, there to send me a life preserver when I realize I am drowning.  I want to allow Jesus to heal some of those hurts that make interacting with others so scary.

I said to a friend recently, “I don’t think anyone knows how broken I am.”  And that’s true.  It’s the gift and the curse of high-functioning depression.  I do everything I am supposed, I look normal.  I laugh and joke.  Thing is, hiding how broken you are–includes hiding it from yourself and God.  And, somehow, that needs to change. I don’t know how to reveal to God how broken I am and let him step into those broken places, but for once, I am going to start with acknowledging I have kept Him out–and pray it does not get worse before it gets better.

In my mind’s eye, I am envisioning a lot of struggle, but there may be nothing visible.  Maybe the Lord will just open His arms and say I have been waiting your whole life for you to acknowledge the broken and that will be it.  I don’t know, what I do know is I want my hunger and thirst to point me to the Lord, to point me to him.

 

Runner Bucket List

I remember when I took up running–eeking out those first few steps on the Wii Fit.  They were hard.  And worth it.

It is still hard.  And still worth it.

When I ran those first steps, I never dreamed how important running would become to me.  I never dreamed how the Lord would use it to teach me about Himself.  How He would use it every day to remind me what a powerful, loving, constant God He is.

Last night, I put a few of my thoughts in a video.  It is not very flattering of me, but honestly, it is meant to be flattering toward God, not toward me.

 

Those thoughts, about the Lord and the gift He has given me goes through my mind at least once on every run.  Today,  I formed a few other thoughts that I would never have even thought to piece together when I was taking those first steps in running.  I started to think about Running Bucket Lists.

I started with a 5k.  Next, I did a 10k.  Followed by running across the Mackinac Bridge.  Next month I am going to do my first 10k in a long time to celebrate my Birthday, and then in June, I am so excited to be running a 10k on Mackinac Island.  I suspect the crowning jewel in my running adventures will be a half marathon in September.  Nestled in there is something I never considered doing, but now think every runner should do at least once–a marathon relay race.

Today I had the privilege to run the 4th leg out of 5 with a group of women.  It was extremely nerve-wracking leading up to the race to have other people depending on how well I did, but ultimately, it pushed me to train harder and then definitely run harder during my leg earlier this morning.

Turns out I ran so hard I popped a blood vessel in my eye, but it was worth it.

When God Changes a Mind

All to the Glory of God–that is why I blog and share my story so openly.  I want others to know it is possible to live and parent well with mental illness.  This, by necessity, causes my posts to be brutally honest, and that is not always pretty.
I have always endeavored to live by the verse 2 Corinthians 12:9
But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me.

Back in August hubby and I noticed my heart rate had gone down significantly, like the low 40s.  It continued to be so at a number of doctor appointments–and this was all before I started running again.

Then a few months ago, my breathing started to cause some issues every once in a while.  It got more than a little bothersome.  And a little concerning.  One of my care providers took notice and the tests started.  I had an EKG on the spot–which showed the low heart rate–and then a slew of bloodwork.  This was followed up with another doctor appointment, another EKG showing a low heart rate, a heart ultrasound, a 24 heart monitor, another EKG, and a nuclear stress test.

In all of this, I had a lot of fear.  Not of what they would find, but that they would find nothing. I’ve had my share of opportunities to be a medical mystery and I was terrified that would happen again.  Really, really scared.  And scared of the shortness of breath.  My doctor had told me I could run if my breathing would tolerate it, but it ended up curtailed.  I ended up frustrated and scared.

All of the tests are now done.  I went today and got the results; it was a glowing report.  My heart is in great shape.  It recovered beautifully from everything done during the stress test.  The ultrasound showed the heart muscle is in great shape. Blood is flowing really well.

I had stressed my need to run at my first appointment with the cardiologist and did so again today.  He said it is absolutely safe for me to run.

Before the appointment, I had asked the few people who knew about the situation to pray for a solution to it, no matter what it was.  I was still so scared of getting no answers.  As I waited for the doctor to come in, I sat on the table begging and pleading with God for this doctor to know exactly what was going on.  I begged like crazy.  As I sat there pleading, I heard the Lord say, in my spirit, not out loud, “that may not be my plan, wait for it, trust me.”  I ignored what I heard.  It wasn’t what I wanted.  It wasn’t what made sense to me.  Plus, I was too worked up to hear that. And trust isn’t my strong suit.  Trust is too scary.  It takes too much out of my hands.  But I knew I heard it and it stuck there no matter how much I begged for my way.

As the doctor spoke, my brain whispered, “but you’re not getting any answers.  What happens now?”  But the bigger words were those of the doctor.  The words he was using to tell me how healthy I was–how strong my heart was.  I heard him tell me it was okay to run.  He told me my low heart rate was no issue, how it would probably get even lower as I train for my half marathon next year.

And I was okay.  Where there had been fear at not having an answer, there was now joy and even excitement and a knowledge that in a moment the Lord had reached down and changed my heart.  He had stepped in where I thought I knew best and put his best.  And it was amazing.  How many people get the opportunity handed to them as they are training for a half marathon to find out their heart is in great condition and can stand the work set before it?  What a gift I was given over the last six weeks.

Yes, there are still questions.  And I plan on following up with my doctor to get my lungs checked out, but for now, I have been given an early Christmas present and I am going to receive it with open arms.

Psalm 29:11

The Lord gives strength to his people; the LORD blesses his people with peace.

 

Enjoy What You’re Doing

Ten or so years ago, hubby and I rang a bell at a Salvation Army Kettle.  It is a chilly project, but low stress and high fun.  That experience was before kids.  I decided a couple weeks ago it was time to do it again–as a family of five!!

So, this afternoon we bundled up (glad it wasn’t as cold today as it was earlier this week) and headed out to the Post Office.

We sang, we danced, we said Merry Christmas and thank you!

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We had lots of comments from people saying we looked like we were having fun.  One guy, motioned over to hubby as he danced to Dominick the Donkey, and said, “you gotta enjoy what you are doing!”

And we did.

We were out there 2 hours and 20 minutes.  There were no bell ringers when we got there, so we just started our shift a little early.  People responded well.  Our bucket was completely full when we returned it to the Salvation Army Citadel this afternoon.

Our toes were cold, but our hearts were full from being able to do our part to help.

I Wept

Facebook was a disaster of differing views for weeks, months, leading up to the Presidential Election.  So many declared they couldn’t wait for it to be over so Facebook could go back to normal.  I agreed, but secretly knew, it wouldn’t be that quick or simple.  And it’s not.  My Facebook feed is filled with so much anger and fear.  It is filled with people demanding to know how others voted or they might unfriend them.  It is filled with rage.

Yesterday, I sat down and connected with a friend.  And I wept for her fear, for her children’s fear, for my confusion.  I wept for us.

I told my children that our job, more than ever, is to look out for our friends and loved ones who others might not accept as equals…to reach out to help our friends who are black or brown, who are disabled, who believe differently than we do.  To love them more fiercely than we ever have before.  Love them sacrificially.  Love them when it’s easy.  Love them even more when it is hard to do so.

We need to love each other with the love of Christ.  We need to be the hands and feet of Jesus, helping those we see in need.

I don’t have all the answers, I don’t have any really.  I have no idea how that love will look most of the time, but I know it is a good place to start again, again, and again.

 

It’s Complicated

I know I have written this before, but it is a constantly evolving idea and concept for me.  I am guessing I am not alone.

Depression and Faith.  It’s complicated.

Depression.  I can’t pray it away.  I can’t read my Bible enough to get it to go away.  I can’t go to church enough to will it away.

Trust me.  I’ve tried.

The hardest part isn’t any of those things.

I understand that, for me, depression requires medication, exercise, social support, and many manners of self-care.

That still isn’t the hardest part.

The hardest part is the cloud that falls over my faith.  There is a darkness in an area I would expect to find hope and light.  Suddenly, where prayer normally brings such joy and encouragement it, it now brings frustration and a hollow feeling.  My faith now feels suffocating and false.  I know what I believe, and I still believe it, but there is no comfort left there.

I am left mourning two things–the darkness of the depression and the darkness over my faith.

I continue on, seeking hope and healing through the things that help in the natural world, and the things I know to be true in the heavenly world.

It’s all there.  I embrace it all, but it’s complicated.

Let Me Pray

I love to pray.  I do.  I love to pray for others.  Especially when I can’t do anything else for someone, I can pray.  Here is an amazing song that has always inspired me when it comes to praying.

Please leave requests I can lift up in the comments.

He is Risen Indeed

Those who have been reading for awhile know the bipolar has really wrecked havoc over the last 4.5 years.  Many days it took all joy, all enjoyment; it left only nerves, depression, overwhelming frustration and anger.  None of these are a good combination for enjoying a holiday.

But recently, the holidays have been improving.  Christmas was better than I had had in years.  I enjoyed watching the girls open their presents.  I enjoyed the day–in the midst of a very dark depression.

I know it was only through the grace of God that I enjoyed Christmas.

Then Easter came.  I enjoyed getting the bags put together and actually did the eggs.  It was fun watching the girls find them today.

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I enjoyed the hunt even amongst a mess of emotions and thoughts.  And for that I am thankful.