Today is the 7th anniversary of being in my wheelchair. It's always been funny to me that it is on May 1st, because it's May Day. Mayday is a distress call, and the day that I just could not take one more step, and had to sit down instead, was truly a day of distress for me. As the years have passed, I have been able to find humor instead of distress. "Mayday, Mayday, I can't walk anymore!" It has been God's precious grace that has given me the ability to laugh instead of weep. He has turned my mourning into joy.
As the day marking 7 years of rolling instead of walking approached, I kept calling it my year of jubilee. In the Bible, the 7th year is the year of rest, and the 50th year is the Year of Jubilee. But, for me, I will still call this my year of jubilee. This is what Jesus said about it in Luke 4:18-19:
The Spirit of the Lord is upon Me,
Because He has anointed Me
To preach the gospel to the poor;
He has sent me to heal the brokenhearted,
To proclaim liberty to the captives
And recovery of sight to the blind,
To set at liberty those who are oppressed;
To proclaim the acceptable year of the Lord.
As I have sought Him in my distress, I have seen Him heal my broken heart. He sets me free when I am held captive by my fear. He has given sight to my blindness when I couldn't see anything but my pain. Jesus Christ, my Lord and Savior, has given me liberty when I have been oppressed and depressed.
This is not a day to look back on what I have lost, but to see all that I have gained. As I have surrendered my heart to my faithful God, He has given me His heart that is full of love and compassion, mercy and forgiveness, gentleness and understanding. I trust that my Father is using my MS and my wheelchair to bless my life in ways that I can't even comprehend.
So this is truly my Year of Jubilee!
Tuesday, May 1, 2012
Wednesday, April 18, 2012
Making It Count
I am working on a Bible Study called Becoming a Woman of Excellence by Cynthia Heald. I'm on the chapter about surrender. It is filled with questions like, "How does Paul's example of yielding his life (from Philippeans 3:1-10) challenge you?" and heart-piercing quotes like this one from Oswald Chambers: "There is only one thing God wants in us, and that is unconditional surrender." When I'm sitting at my desk in the quiet of the morning with my cup of coffee, it is easy to write down this answer: "My life belongs to Christ. He paid the greatest price for it. My life is hidden in Christ with God. That is the safest place I could ever be, so I can just rest, and not try to be in control." I absolutely know and believe that with all my heart.
There are times, though, when I forget. Like when I wake up in the morning to an empty house, and the first thing I see is my wheelchair. Or when the kids complain about dinner and have to be told 5 times to brush their teeth. Or when my whole body hurts, and especially when my heart is weary from the every day sameness of life.
This afternoon while I was asking myself, "Do I really need to change out of my pajamas?" I heard the Lord whisper to my heart that what I need to do is surrender. I think it's these daily moments that really count. It's my opportunity to count all things loss for the excellence of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord. (Philippeans 3:8) It's no easy thing to count the big things like walking and living without pain as loss, but sometimes it's the small things that break my heart. Things like feeling like I'm in the way because my chair takes up so much space, or being able to pick something up off the floor. Sometimes I would love to simply hang out with my daughter in her room upstairs, or get the mail, or run up to the store for a gallon of milk. These are the things, as small as they are, that make me look at the bigger picture. That big picture is a beautiful one, because it is painted by the loving hand of my Savior. As I surrender these small things all throughout my life, and count them as loss, they all lead to the same place. The place of knowing Jesus and His faithful, amazing love for me.
There are times, though, when I forget. Like when I wake up in the morning to an empty house, and the first thing I see is my wheelchair. Or when the kids complain about dinner and have to be told 5 times to brush their teeth. Or when my whole body hurts, and especially when my heart is weary from the every day sameness of life.
This afternoon while I was asking myself, "Do I really need to change out of my pajamas?" I heard the Lord whisper to my heart that what I need to do is surrender. I think it's these daily moments that really count. It's my opportunity to count all things loss for the excellence of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord. (Philippeans 3:8) It's no easy thing to count the big things like walking and living without pain as loss, but sometimes it's the small things that break my heart. Things like feeling like I'm in the way because my chair takes up so much space, or being able to pick something up off the floor. Sometimes I would love to simply hang out with my daughter in her room upstairs, or get the mail, or run up to the store for a gallon of milk. These are the things, as small as they are, that make me look at the bigger picture. That big picture is a beautiful one, because it is painted by the loving hand of my Savior. As I surrender these small things all throughout my life, and count them as loss, they all lead to the same place. The place of knowing Jesus and His faithful, amazing love for me.
Tuesday, March 27, 2012
Into the Prison
In October of last year, we had a Missions Sunday in church. We learned about the many local areas that we could become involved in. When it began, I thought that it would be interesting, but I didn't really think there was much I could do. But I wanted to have an open heart, and so when Van, who was sharing about each area, encouraged everyone to say, "Yes I can", I said it along with everyone else. But I didn't really believe it. I wasn't feeling sorry for myself, I just didn't see how I could practically be a part of any of these really great ministries. And then he came to the One-on-One Visitation Program for the Tennessee Prison for Women. There are women in prison that never have a visitor. They are lonely, and they long to know that somebody cares about them. In that moment my heart cried out, "Yes I can!" I didn't know how, but I knew that if God put it on my heart so strongly, then He would definitely provide the way for me to go.
I understand about loneliness. I am alone in my house all day. There have been times that I have felt trapped, because I have no way to leave unless someone comes and takes me out. I wanted so very much to help alleviate those feelings in another woman's life. So I wheeled my way to the back and signed my name on the volunteer list. I attended an orientation meeting to learn everything I would need to know about going into the prison. I was given the name of a girl that applied for a visitor from this ministry. Her name is Lorie. We went as a group for our first visit. As we were waiting, the first inmate came in. She began crying because she had been in for 2 years and never had a visitor. I really had to make myself keep it together, because I didn't want to be crying when Lorie came in. When she did, she had the biggest smile on her face, and she gave me a big hug. I wondered if she would be intimidated by my wheelchair, but she wasn't. We just hit it off right away. She was very honest about her life and I shared some about mine. Her parents don't write to her, and she had been in for 19 months without a visitor. Our time together was so sweet, and so much better than I expected.
I had to wait for about a month to be put on her official list of visitors. When I received the letter on Christmas Eve, I was so happy. I felt I had been given a gift. My husband, Marc, and I worked out a great way for me to get there. One of his favorite record stores is about 10 minutes away from the prison, so he drops me off and comes back a couple hours later to pick me up. I've been going once a month since January.
I think it can be very easy to just look past a prison when we see one, and think that there are probably scary people in there that deserve to be there. It is easy to just look past it and not consider that there are real people with hearts and feelings just as real as our own. I had no idea how much the Lord had in store for me when I signed my name on that paper. Going to visit Lorie has completely changed my perspective. Every time we pull into the prison and see all that barbed wire I realize that I am not trapped. I can go anywhere I want to. I just have to get a ride. That's more fun anyway, because I get to spend time with one of my friends. God has shown me the great depth of His love and how beautiful it is when He fills my heart to overflowing with it so that I can pour that love all over Lorie. It is a precious thing to tell her that I love her and to see her just soak it up.
In one of Lorie's letters she wrote, "I believe that God is teaching us both to see our lives with possibilities instead of disappointments. It's amazing that God can teach us the same thing together with it looking differently! Because God's grace is made perfect in our weakness."
I am forever changed because I said, "Yes I can." I want to keep saying that, because I know that with God, all things are possible.
I understand about loneliness. I am alone in my house all day. There have been times that I have felt trapped, because I have no way to leave unless someone comes and takes me out. I wanted so very much to help alleviate those feelings in another woman's life. So I wheeled my way to the back and signed my name on the volunteer list. I attended an orientation meeting to learn everything I would need to know about going into the prison. I was given the name of a girl that applied for a visitor from this ministry. Her name is Lorie. We went as a group for our first visit. As we were waiting, the first inmate came in. She began crying because she had been in for 2 years and never had a visitor. I really had to make myself keep it together, because I didn't want to be crying when Lorie came in. When she did, she had the biggest smile on her face, and she gave me a big hug. I wondered if she would be intimidated by my wheelchair, but she wasn't. We just hit it off right away. She was very honest about her life and I shared some about mine. Her parents don't write to her, and she had been in for 19 months without a visitor. Our time together was so sweet, and so much better than I expected.
I had to wait for about a month to be put on her official list of visitors. When I received the letter on Christmas Eve, I was so happy. I felt I had been given a gift. My husband, Marc, and I worked out a great way for me to get there. One of his favorite record stores is about 10 minutes away from the prison, so he drops me off and comes back a couple hours later to pick me up. I've been going once a month since January.
I think it can be very easy to just look past a prison when we see one, and think that there are probably scary people in there that deserve to be there. It is easy to just look past it and not consider that there are real people with hearts and feelings just as real as our own. I had no idea how much the Lord had in store for me when I signed my name on that paper. Going to visit Lorie has completely changed my perspective. Every time we pull into the prison and see all that barbed wire I realize that I am not trapped. I can go anywhere I want to. I just have to get a ride. That's more fun anyway, because I get to spend time with one of my friends. God has shown me the great depth of His love and how beautiful it is when He fills my heart to overflowing with it so that I can pour that love all over Lorie. It is a precious thing to tell her that I love her and to see her just soak it up.
In one of Lorie's letters she wrote, "I believe that God is teaching us both to see our lives with possibilities instead of disappointments. It's amazing that God can teach us the same thing together with it looking differently! Because God's grace is made perfect in our weakness."
I am forever changed because I said, "Yes I can." I want to keep saying that, because I know that with God, all things are possible.
Monday, March 12, 2012
The Wall
I was diagnosed with MS almost 16 years ago. My main symptom was always difficulty walking. There were many times that I couldn't walk at all and had to use a wheelchair. When I could walk I used a cane and sort of dragged my right foot along behind me. Always in the back of my mind was the fear that I would end up in a wheelchair for good. When I would have an attack, that fear would move from the back of my mind and become a huge wall right in front of me. I couldn't see around it, over it, or anything else other than that wall. It was built brick by brick of what ifs and how can I? and so many doubts and fears. Every time I was confronted with this wall I would turn to the Lord and surrender again, knowing that His love for me was greater than my wall.
It has been nearly 7 years since I have been in my wheelchair, safely on the other side of that wall. All those years of surrender prepared me for surrendering my ability to walk and drive and all the things that are no longer mine as I roll instead of walk. I have learned so many beautiful things on this side of the wall. I know how very much Jesus loves me. I know how sweet it is to surrender to His lovely will for my life. I know the joy of sharing in the fellowship of suffering with my Savior. I have exchanged walking for a peace that reaches a place so deep inside of me that I never even knew existed.
About 6 months ago, I had an attack that made life in my wheelchair more challenging. I am still able to stand up for short periods. I can transfer from my chair to my bed, get dressed, do my own make-up, and fix my hair. I have a measure of independence that I am very thankful for. This attack made it so I couldn't stand up straight, and my balance was terrible. My hands had a serious tremor and I was completely exhausted all the time. Before I knew it, there was another wall right in front of me. This wall was built with all my doubts and fears of losing what little independence I had. But this time I had some experience with this kind of wall. I knew that things are way better on this side of the Wheelchair Wall. One morning I told the Lord that I didn't want to wait to deal with this wall if and when all my fears became reality. So I simply asked Him to take away that wall. I knew He was the only One who could do it. And right then, as I surrendered my life and all my fears once again, my sweet Heavenly Father removed that wall.
I am still confronted with fear about what my future will hold, but then I remember that God took the wall away. And then I remember that He holds my future in His hands. He has shown Himself to be faithful, trustworthy, lovely, mighty and everything else I have ever needed Him to be in my life. I have seen His perfect love cast out my fear again and again.
For I know the thoughts that I think toward you, says the Lord, thoughts of peace and not of evil, to give you a future and a hope. Then you will call upon Me and go and pray to Me, and I will listen to you. And you will seek Me and find Me, when you search for Me with all of your heart.
Jeremiah 29:11-13
Saturday, March 10, 2012
I know it's been a very long time since my last post. I'm still here! We've just had a pretty crazy year. My son had to have an appendectomy when my husband was out of town. That was not something I would ever have felt prepared for! I can't drive so I had to call 911. It was a completely different experience being in the hospital not as a patient. But I had an important job. I was there as Nate's Mom. It was very hard to see him going through everything, but something changed in me. It was like a switch got turned on and my wheelchair didn't seem to be a hindrance. Because my inability to walk had absolutely nothing to do with being there for my son. I even had some inside information. I helped him through getting his IV started, I've had that done countless times. I knew how to operate the bed, call the nurse, even unplug his IV pole and help him to the bathroom. I didn't feel like Disabled Mom, I felt like Super Mom!
My husband, Marc had to have his gallbladder removed and he's been going through some other physical problems. The Lord really taught me a completely different side of compassion. It is absolutely heartbreaking to see this man I so dearly love go through something that there is no easy answer for. Now I know how he feels when he looks at me and tells me he wishes he could take it all away. Even though it's been difficult, it has brought us even closer together, and closer to Jesus.
My daughter, Hannah broke her collar bone when she collided with a boy on the playground. For 2 weeks I helped her get dressed, take a bath, wash her hair and put her shoes on. She never complained. I got to see a beautiful side of her. It was really great to spend all of that time together.
Through all of these things, being in a wheelchair was just somewhere in the background. Or maybe it was, in a way, the star of the show. Because the Lord has taught me how to trust Him in all things throughout these past 16 years of walking with Him. In all of these difficulties, I was given the opportunity to trust Him with the people I love, to encourage them, and to see how very trustworthy God is. Instead of seeing all of the things I can't do, God is showing me all the things I can do. And all of those things are way more important than walking.
Wednesday, November 3, 2010
In the Quiet
It has been a while since my last post. I haven't been feeling well at all. During this time I have discovered some precious blessings from my faithful Father. It has been a time of quiet. But this has not been a quiet of desolation or despair. It has been a quiet deep within my heart, that place that is reserved for my Jesus.
Looking back over the 14 years of living with MS and walking with the Lord, I see that my road has been full of mountains and valleys. It seems like every time I would have a relapse or was really struggling with surrendering my will, I would be down in the valley; a lot of times way down, even in a dark pit. And then when the Lord lifted me up I was on the mountain top, so joyful to be held in the arms of Jesus.
The past couple of months, I haven't been in a valley or on the mountain. I have just been quiet. But in the quiet I have been so aware of the presence of my Lord. I realized that all those times in the valley I was fighting. Fighting against this disease, fighting against self pity, fighting against God's will for my life. I know that it is really important to fight the good fight and to not give up. But there is a fine line for me, and most of the time I wasn't fighting the good fight, I was just fighting.
I realized something else in this quiet. I'm not fighting. I'm resting. God in all of His lovingkindness has helped me to accept my disease in a way I never have before. I would always feel so guilty when I was so tired I couldn't really do much of anything. When I would see my husband doing everything for our family, I felt so bad, because if I didn't have MS, he wouldn't be burdened down with all this extra work. There is so much freedom in knowing that one little truth about myself; freedom to see that Marc doen't consider it a burden, he does it because he loves me. I have MS. There are going to be times when I just don't feel good. Something really amazing happens when I let go of all these unrealistic expectations I put on myself. I can stop fighting. I can be the wife and mom that God wants me to be, even if that is completely different from who I always thought I should be.
My most recent road has been rough and pretty rocky in some places, no valleys or mountains, but my journey has taken me to a place I've never been before. Tomorrow I am going in for my second infusion of Rituxan. It's not easy. I will feel bad for about a week. I am hoping that this treatment will work and I will start feeling better. But I know that whatever happens will be good.
We had a Pastor from Virginia speak at our church on Sunday. He asked if the difficult circumstances in our lives don't get better, is the presence of Jesus enough? He also said that what ever happens in our life, when Jesus is with us we can say, "How awesome is this place." I can honestly say yes, Jesus is enough. So tomorrow when I am getting my infusion and feeling all yucky, I will be able to say, how awesome is this place. Regardless of what happens with my MS or any other thing in my life, when I know that Jesus is with me, I can know that my heart can say, how awesome is this place. I can say that because in the quiet, I have heard the still small voice of the Lord telling me to cease striving, to stop fighting, and to know that He is my God and that He loves me with a love that is greater than anything. In the quiet I have learned to rest, and I have learned to accept my MS in a way I never have before. I wouldn't trade this for a thousand mountain tops.
Looking back over the 14 years of living with MS and walking with the Lord, I see that my road has been full of mountains and valleys. It seems like every time I would have a relapse or was really struggling with surrendering my will, I would be down in the valley; a lot of times way down, even in a dark pit. And then when the Lord lifted me up I was on the mountain top, so joyful to be held in the arms of Jesus.
The past couple of months, I haven't been in a valley or on the mountain. I have just been quiet. But in the quiet I have been so aware of the presence of my Lord. I realized that all those times in the valley I was fighting. Fighting against this disease, fighting against self pity, fighting against God's will for my life. I know that it is really important to fight the good fight and to not give up. But there is a fine line for me, and most of the time I wasn't fighting the good fight, I was just fighting.
I realized something else in this quiet. I'm not fighting. I'm resting. God in all of His lovingkindness has helped me to accept my disease in a way I never have before. I would always feel so guilty when I was so tired I couldn't really do much of anything. When I would see my husband doing everything for our family, I felt so bad, because if I didn't have MS, he wouldn't be burdened down with all this extra work. There is so much freedom in knowing that one little truth about myself; freedom to see that Marc doen't consider it a burden, he does it because he loves me. I have MS. There are going to be times when I just don't feel good. Something really amazing happens when I let go of all these unrealistic expectations I put on myself. I can stop fighting. I can be the wife and mom that God wants me to be, even if that is completely different from who I always thought I should be.
My most recent road has been rough and pretty rocky in some places, no valleys or mountains, but my journey has taken me to a place I've never been before. Tomorrow I am going in for my second infusion of Rituxan. It's not easy. I will feel bad for about a week. I am hoping that this treatment will work and I will start feeling better. But I know that whatever happens will be good.
We had a Pastor from Virginia speak at our church on Sunday. He asked if the difficult circumstances in our lives don't get better, is the presence of Jesus enough? He also said that what ever happens in our life, when Jesus is with us we can say, "How awesome is this place." I can honestly say yes, Jesus is enough. So tomorrow when I am getting my infusion and feeling all yucky, I will be able to say, how awesome is this place. Regardless of what happens with my MS or any other thing in my life, when I know that Jesus is with me, I can know that my heart can say, how awesome is this place. I can say that because in the quiet, I have heard the still small voice of the Lord telling me to cease striving, to stop fighting, and to know that He is my God and that He loves me with a love that is greater than anything. In the quiet I have learned to rest, and I have learned to accept my MS in a way I never have before. I wouldn't trade this for a thousand mountain tops.
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
Mercy
Mr. Spurgeon just told me (through today's devotion) that God's mercy is a royal chariot for my weary feet. That is so very lovely to me. I know that it is true. In life, my feet can become so weary as I "walk" through each day. Life is just hard, and some days the road is especially rough.
Last week I went to have my Baclofen pump refilled for the first time. It took 7 pokes to find the right spot. On the way home, my husband, Marc, and I were talking about it. It is tempting to think that there is some kind of "Suffering Deductible", and once I've met that for the year, then everything else should be easy. That's funny, but not even close to the truth. The truth is that whatever my God has for me today, His mercy and His grace are enough. When I am faced with any situation, easy or difficult, it is my opportunity to trust my Lord and praise His Name. As I continue doing that I am blessed with a deeper love for my Savior because every time He shows me His faithfulness, He shows me His limitless love.
My wheelchair is the instrument that God is using to show me mercy beyond measure, to bring me to my knees to kiss His feet, to give me joy like I have never known and to pour His love into my heart. So here I sit in my wheelchair, my royal chariot, resting my weary feet with a heart full of gratitude and sustained by His wondrous mercy.
Last week I went to have my Baclofen pump refilled for the first time. It took 7 pokes to find the right spot. On the way home, my husband, Marc, and I were talking about it. It is tempting to think that there is some kind of "Suffering Deductible", and once I've met that for the year, then everything else should be easy. That's funny, but not even close to the truth. The truth is that whatever my God has for me today, His mercy and His grace are enough. When I am faced with any situation, easy or difficult, it is my opportunity to trust my Lord and praise His Name. As I continue doing that I am blessed with a deeper love for my Savior because every time He shows me His faithfulness, He shows me His limitless love.
My wheelchair is the instrument that God is using to show me mercy beyond measure, to bring me to my knees to kiss His feet, to give me joy like I have never known and to pour His love into my heart. So here I sit in my wheelchair, my royal chariot, resting my weary feet with a heart full of gratitude and sustained by His wondrous mercy.
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