Miracles

Pray for Kate

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For far too many people the bulk of their daily lives consists of the inner walls of the waiting rooms of hospitals and doctors offices.  While the rest of us have the luxury of going about our lives celebrating joys and accomplishments, breathing freedom, complaining about everyday things, juggling bills, jobs we might hate, their reality is much different. They live in a sea of uncertainty from one procedure to the next, never knowing what the outcome will be.

I thought of all these people when I went to take Sydney to the vet last week. It was traumatic for him and me. He peed all over the cage and nestled his head in my arm for protection, overwhelmed by all the smells and the ride in the car. By the end of it, I was a nervous wreck. I thought of the little girl, Kate, whose story I have been following ever since 2009, when she was diagnosed with a massive, aggressive brain tumor. They were able to remove only half of it, because of the location in her brain.

Kate’s family has been a source of great inspiration to me and people all over the world as we have watched this brave family deal with this in light of their faith. Their strength and commitment to the Lord throws a light on all the darkness in a way that is simply miraculous. For four years now they have walked through the shadows of death with Kate, and yet remarkably, today, she is cancer free. And yet, the devastating effects of the chemo and massive doses of radiation are a grim reality and reminder of a still uncertain outcome.

Please follow this link, to read Kate’s Mom’s latest journal entry on Caring Bridge here……and join me in prayer for these wonderful people and Kate who is one of the most courageous little girls I know about.

Fearfully and wonderfully made

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As I sit in prayer I listen to birds sing the day in and not for the first time I think, they have it right. I pour my coffee and I wonder how many in the world are doing the same thing right now, but they never taste it. They sip but don’t savor and then on to the next thing. 

I suppose I am one of the lucky ones. When you have lost suddenly in your life it tends to change your perspective. You know just how fast it can all be gone so  you grab each day with both hands, you grab grace because you know it’s because of grace we’re all here at all.

And you also learn how to see and embrace the wonder in each new day. The fact that God is in it is all the reason you need. Just take one aspect of your body, or one aspect of creation. Just think what a symphony of coordination has to happen between your brain and your legs to get up and cross the room. Or for your eye to work properly. How can this not be enough to agree along with the Psalmist that we are FEARFULLY and WONDERFULLY made?

As Margaret Feinberg says so succinctly in her wonder-filled book, Wonderstruck:

God extends endless invitations to encounter him, yet too often we sleep straight through. Unconscious of the life God wants for us, we slumber in the presence of the sacred and snore in the company of the divine. We remain asleep while God roosts in our midst.

Just Saturday, I attended a memorial service for a dear friend’s husband. He was only 6 years older than me. As the pictures flashed on the screen, snippets of his life, it was obvious that he was one of those for whom the world held much wonder, his was a life not wasted.  Sad as it was for the ones left behind, they have the comfort of knowing that. And knowing that now, He sits in the presence of wonder we can scarely imagine, at the feet of Jesus. That is the most precious thing we can leave our loved ones.

I want to give others that gift. I want to give God that gift. I want Him to know how grateful I am for every moment He gives me. I think that’s one of the best ways we can honor God and be a blessing to those around us. When we open each other’s eyes to that wonder all around us, we are doing the work of the Kingdom.

Each and every day, God is telling us to look up, look out. Nature is one of the biggests ways He waves His hands to get our attention.

Just now, almost to prove my point, a hummingbird hovers in mid-air, and I see the way he catches the light. That little heart beating at an improbable 1,260 beats per minute I wonder how such a small little creature can teach such a big lesson.

If just we open our eyes long enough to see it.

You have searched me, Lord,
and you know me.
You know when I sit and when I rise;
you perceive my thoughts from afar.
You discern my going out and my lying down;
you are familiar with all my ways.
Before a word is on my tongue
you, Lord, know it completely.
You hem me in behind and before,
and you lay your hand upon me.
Such knowledge is too wonderful for me,
too lofty for me to attain.

Psalm 139:1-6

Angels on the Hood

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As I was writing my post from this past Wednesday, all that reminiscing put me in mind of the afternoon Elaine got baptized. There is a little state park where the Mokelumne River meanders through in California, and that’s where church members and assorted others drove on a warm summer day in July.

We sang songs on the shore in the glow of the afternoon sun, graced by the slanting shadows of the trees and listened to Pastor Ken’s short message as he stood thigh deep in the water with his big black Bible opened, as the faithful waded in.

Elaine’s folks were there wandering around not sure what to do, clearly out of their comfort zone but there nonetheless and that’s what mattered. Her Mom couldn’t imagine why anyone in their right mind would get “in that nasty dirty water.”

Baptism never fails to move me, especially when adults take that step. You can almost see all the junk in their lives in past tense in their eyes right before they go under. They’ve made the decision and they have counted the cost and put themselves in a pretty vulnerable place. On top of that, everyone else is standing around dry and you are about to get soaking wet in public with clothes on. That seems a bit unnatural all by itself.

The day of her baptism I gave her a little Bible inscribed with the date and her name. And when her truck was stolen a few years ago she was more upset about losing that than anything else.

That little Bible represented a lot.

She likes to rib me about being baptised in a warm baptismal where my Pastor wore fishing waders. She thinks hers is somehow better because that’s the way John the Baptist did it and also because she braved the cold water. He is her favorite Bible character after all.

But when she gets serious and talks about that day you don’t have to wonder about what it meant and still means to her. She gets a certain light in her eyes and a softness in her voice. It was the starting of a life newly filled with hope. Filled with Jesus.

But I digress.

It was getting dark by the time we headed home. I was driving her 1990 Dodge Caravan. She was riding shotgun and my Mom and Dad were in the back. Suddenly I see something that almost looked like a very tall person lying crossways in the lane directly ahead of me. It was, in fact,  a large roll of carpet.

With traffic on both sides zooming by there was absolutely nowhere to go.

She must have seen the panic on my face and the desire to slam on the brakes. “Hang onto the wheel and keep going!” She said. So I did. I gripped the wheel and sailed over it. In the rear view mirror I saw my Mom and Dad’s heads pop up simultaneously and hit the ceiling.

Now the carpet was caught in the undercarriage of the van and we were dragging it.

And no one would let me off the freeway.

Elaine said, “Just put your blinker on and get over, they’ll move.” I did and they did.

By the time we pulled off the freeway the carpet was smoldering and we could see flames. Now, my friend  is one of those who can assess a situation and know exactly what needs to be done, as well as successfully delegating others, all while remaining calm and in control. Unlike me.

In seconds she had my Dad in the driver’s seat waiting for direction as to when to hit the gas and my Mom and I bouncing the backend of the car while she kept a firm hold on the carpet.

When we finally dislodged it my Dad said, “I can’t believe I just obeyed those orders without question, I’m a Master Sergeant, I am used to giving orders not taking them.” 

We all took a few deep breaths, thanked God, and stood around for a few minutes and marveled at how disastrous it could have been.

But I know why it wasn’t.

It was those hood angels riding on top of the van.

photo credit: google images, Caswell State Park

When we have real communion

Delighting in the way....

As I sit here the birds are in chorus across the street and the suns rays are glorious across my back. I can barely see the screen in the light, but I have to be out here. I don’t want to ignore God’s beautiful morning.

In prayer just an hour ago, my insides felt as flat as a gray stone. I whispered, “How is it that I can sit here, knowing the God of the Universe is here listening to my prayer and I can feel so emotionally flat? How is that possible?”

I don’t let it out, I don’t talk to Him because it sounds too much like whining. It’s better to keep it stuffed behind the barrier. But then I do start sharing it all, and as it spills out something wonderful happens. Distant, Holy, Immovable, Omnipotent God becomes my Abba Father again. And it’s warmer than the sun on my back how He loves me. And once again it surprises me how He really does want to hear it all.

The wine becomes the blood, and the wafer becomes the body and it’s something real, something we can see, hear taste and touch in Him and each other. And it’s bigger than anything else in this life. And when our tears become like the wine and we pour out our hearts to each other? This is the gift exchange God really wants. Freely we have received, freely we give.

This kind of Holy transubstantiation is what He gives us first so that in turn, we can give it to others.

Inside me the rock cracks open and tears come when I realize that what has just happened is something Holy, something of a miracle.

The doves coo and the birds continue their serenade and Elaine honks as she goes by in her school bus. She sees that the umbrella is up and I am out here. The kids will be glad to have her back today. I don’t think the substitute driver sings with them or compliments them on their outfits, or loves them enough to not let them get away with everything. She never looks through them, she always sees them and they know it. And since Jesus is in her, He is on that bus too.

And I know He is smiling while she is doing His work with those kids.

The sun beats down, warmer now, and I revel in its glow.

Because I never have to play that daisy game with God, because I know it’s always the same answer, “He loves me.”

Choosing the Scars

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If you asked me for proof of whether God exists and whether He works in the lives of people, I would ask you to peer into my life; for I believe its in the story of our lives where He does His best work. If you could have been watching, you would have seen a girl kneeling by her bed, the one with the ruffly pink chenille bedspread, the one our dog always peed on when it was fresh from the laundry, knowing even then that God was listening.

God has His fingerprint on us from the start, and either we are born with someone in our lives who confirms that or denies it. One thing I know, throughout our lives God keeps tapping us on the shoulder, trying to remind us He’s still there.

My life has been shot through with miracle after miracle, and so has yours. I was born 3 months early in a time when that was a real emergency. If we hadn’t been visiting my Aunt, who lived very close to Stanford Hospital when my Mom went into labor, I may have been returned to sender even before I took a breath.

Flash forward to aged 12 where I sat in the dermatologist office for the first time, a curtain of hair hanging in front of a face marred with early onset adult cystic acne. Around that same time, I walked down the church aisle and gave my life to the Lord, because I knew I needed saving in more ways than one.

If you took a slice out of my life during the ensuing years, you would see many good times doing things together as a family, but you would also see hard days when my Dad hated his job, and mornings when my Mom had to literally pray me out the door before the onslaught of the school day.

And even all these years later I can still feel her hand in mine and hear her voice when she prayed those prayers in the mornings by the light of the fire.  

Those prayers carried me through High School where I so much wanted to belong but remained locked inside myself because I didn’t know how to be friends with myself let alone anyone else. Every now and then the acne was not as bad, and I almost felt free, but then it would come back and I would retreat again, inside my music and the dark scrawling in the notebook I carried wherever I went.

All those years the Spirit held me close, but those years also left scars that I didn’t let Him heal and because the mirror I used to view myself was a distorted one, I never saw the beauty that others saw, I just saw the scars.

Then, I went on a diet and lost a few pounds and got a few compliments. I became intoxicated with something I could actually control and I found that when I refused food that I really liked I felt a power I had never felt before.

I became my own superhero and 83 pounds was still not thin enough.

But God still held me fast. He heard the tearful prayers of my parents. One night I had a dream that was suffused with a golden light and when I awoke the next morning I knew that the demon had lost and God had won. I ate forbidden scrambled eggs and then the real work started.

In the dark mornings, God and I would get up and run when no one else could see me. Later, my Dad and I (and God) ran together. Rain or shine, we were out there. In the eighties, I joined the throng of women wearing “Flashdance” sweatshirts and leg warmers and traded one addiction for another.

And all these years later when I hear that song on the radio?  I smile and remember those days when I got my health back and felt beautiful for the first time in my life ever.

And knowing God was with me all along.

Today, if you’ve ever wondered if there was a God I challenge you to look at your own life and count up all the things you’ve come through.

You are here friend, because He wanted you here.

Right now today where you stand, wherever you stand, He loves you. He has already partnered with you, all you have to do is accept His invitation to partner with Him. Years later, when you are looking back at your life the way I am looking at mine now, and trust me on this, it is the one thing you will never, ever regret.

And if my scars made the difference between knowing Him and not knowing Him? I would choose the scars every single time.

Miracle in the parking lot

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“Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid.” John 14:27

Lately, it has been hard to keep emotion under control. Always, it threatens to break like a breach in a dam when it finally gives way. She is in the last stages, (she sincerely hopes) of placing her Mom in a care facility. In between her bus route this morning she was doing her other job, collecting paperwork for the placement process. If you are a private pay patient it’s a whole different scenario; they wave you in like royalty, roll out the red carpet, fresh flowers in the room and all that, but her Mom is not. When you are dependent on the State, you have to jump through hoop after hoop. Today was yet another visit by yet another case worker. And really, they have been very cooperative….for that we are thankful.

But lately, she has begun to lose hope in the process. It is wearing her down.

Behind weary eyes she confides her fears……”It’s not going to happen, I’ve resigned myself to it.” She feels like giving up, and I am doing my level best to convince her that we are at the tail end. Right now, that’s my whole goal, to give a fresh supply of hope. To help her along and be her strength when she has none.

Just now, as I type this, her Mom is taking a plate of food out to the living room, balanced precariously. I know that potato chip crumbs will end up all over the floor I just vacuumed. But that part doesn’t matter anymore. That’s small stuff.

When you are a caregiver it seems like nobody notices all the hundreds of little things you do, certainly not the one you are caring for. Sometimes you need a little verification that God sees you, that He’s still there. Today, as she was finishing up at her Dad’s care home she noticed two folded pieces of paper half hidden under a tire. Something made her stop and pick them up. Opening them, she found two beautifully handwritten pages of prayers:

Two pages of hope.

At the top of each prayer was a verse:

Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid. John 14:27

Who is God besides the Lord? And who is the Rock except our God? 2 Samuel 22:32

Just when she needed it most, a sign…..and those notes may as well have floated down from Heaven itself. I would love to know who wrote two such beautiful prayers. They must have needed some confirmation as well. I find myself wondering what set of circumstances led them to it? We will probably never know, but I would love to tell them how much their words helped.

To honor the one who prayed I am including one of them below:

Often, when people are experiencing problems, or if they need advice, they turn to a friend for help. But human effort always falls short. If you find yourself in a difficult situation, don’t underestimate the power and love of God. Complete healing flows from an absolute and unconditional trust in and surrender to the living Christ. It doesn’t matter what your problem is, the only lasting solution is to be found in the unfathomable love which God through Jesus, bestowed on humanity. Never be too proud or too afraid to turn to Jesus. Lay all your problems at His feet. He gave His life for you and will grant you the healing balm of His peace.

I want to hold on to you Lord, when the storm winds blow and I feel insecure. Grant me your peace. Amen.

An unknown writer

 This is our miracle today. I thank you, whoever you are who wrote that. I hope you found the help and peace you were looking for, we certainly did.

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