You should read the blog I wrote early Sunday morning. I really poured my heart out. I was a little distressed, a little anxious and totally honest, completely vulnerable, and humbly surrendered. Whew! That will drain a girl. I used words like: serve, trust, passion, quiet, please, forgive, stillness, joy, faithful, boldness, anywhere, grace and love. I was kind of taking a moment, and I thought this venue, to cry out. And then in my diligence to write all of my honest feelings from my heart I remembered these words "He will quiet you with His love..." I've sort of always been prone to lay it all out there. To say honestly what I thought about things. I’ve never been afraid of discussion. I've learned some hard lessons about timing and what constitutes something that needs to be said vs. something that doesn't...and to whom it needs to be said. I'm still learning. There are a few misguided honesty moments that stand out in my childhood... Scene 1: The living room of my babysitter’s house. All of us in her care where told to line up to receive our paddling (this is the only time we ever had to do this). We had returned to sit on the curb with our feet in the street, after she had told us not to. I guess having our feet in the street was irresistible. I was maybe 4 and the youngest of the curb-sitters so I was at the tail end of the spanking line. I watched as each of the others took their turn and then marched to the kitchen for the chicken noodle soup and crackers that awaited us. But when it was finally my turn something I didn't expect happened. She paddled me....and it did not hurt at all. Did she mean for that to hurt? Because it didn't. And I wasn't sure of the point of this little drama if that was the big end to all of her talk. So, on my way to the kitchen with those thoughts running through my mind, I turned back to her and said: "Betty, that didn't hurt." That turned out to be too much honesty. Scene 2: The living room of our house where I spent most of my little kid days. Probably around the same age. A good year for me. My brother and I are in front of our Christmas tree. I'm wearing a red Christmas dress and white leotards. Some family friends, who loved to give good gifts to Chris and I, came by with a present for each of us. Chris ripped into his; a Star Wars Cartoon projector set. A-m-a-z-i-n-g. He rarely let me play with his Star Wars stuff because I made Han and Leia kiss. Maybe they got me something Star Wars too! I ripped into my gift and it was some goofy looking clown holding a drum with a piggy bank slot in it. Excuse me? Is this the vibe I give off? So, to my family's humiliation I looked up and said to these friends: "Um, I never wanted one of these." The fallout from that honesty moment was a sudden overcompensating love to collect all things clowns that lasted 15 years and resulted in many, many clowns. I had friends who wouldn't even sleep in my room when they stayed the night. I did grow to like my clowns especially that first one I named Corky after my grandpa, but I learned too much honesty can have lasting repercussions.
Ok, one more: Scene 3: Our cul-de-sac. All the little cul-de-sac children who were my buddies were in our yard. I had just organized an obstacle course for them to complete. Don't be shocked. There was a jump rope section. I remember they had to go out the back gate, circle one of Daddy’s old cars and swing on my swing set. They also had opportunity to walk the half brick wall around our porch. It was a pretty good time. The time was nearing, however, for one of my bff's from school to come spend the night. So I went and told all of my after school and weekend friend's they were going to need to head on home because I didn't get much time with my spend-the-night friend and I wanted to just play with her now. Mutiny. Susie-from-my-block went right in and told my mom about my ungraceful frankness. Mom called me out (my parents were not hesitant about that) and all of my little neighbor friends stayed to play, but were mad at me. So, I didn't have any fun because they were all giving me the stink eye and getting my school friend to be mad at me too. Full disclosure of my selfish feelings right then was not a wise way to go. There are plenty of stories as I got older where I learned some hard lessons. And plenty of times where it was honesty's nemesis which had hold of my tongue. But some stories are left better untold, Right? Right. Like my recent heart-pouring-out-blog, that has taken its place not on this site, but between me and the Lord. I really enjoy blogging. Shortly after my first post, was my trip to Austin to see Ryan and Jess, and shortly after that was the plan to go to Ethiopia. Writing about that trip in this blog financed the majority it. Then getting to share all that was happening during our time in Ethiopia and the week we began life with cancer was a huge part of thinking through all the drama and trauma and organizing my thoughts to see God's hand in the chaos. Writing gave me much needed focus, perspective, and release. I still need focus and perspective and release. Back to present day: Sunday morning as I was writing my guts out came this verse to mind: "He will quiet you with His love." And He did. His Word reminded me that His love quiets me in my distress. Some things I need to just cry out to Him. He is the One who created me and loves me and only through him can I be truly quieted. Only my hope in him calms me through His word and Presence. Then he gave me time with a life-long friend to spend the afternoon with (lylas Lizzy) and sweet new roommates to spend my evening laughing with. He quieted me with himself, then with His blessings of friendship. My mom has said I'm never one to suffer in silence. I think even as God allows me to use this voice more, He is showing me new lessons on when to let Him be the one who quiets me. So, when I feel I need to be known I need to take it to Him who knows me best, loves me most, and has the power to redeem me from the fears and insecurities I face. Then, when it’s Him, His power and grace that I want to be known...He allows me and blesses me with this little corner of space to share…honestly. Honesty to the right ear, at the right time, for the right motives. Honesty to make Him more known, so that the Hope he gives me may be more known. "The Lord your God is in your midst, a mighty one who will save; He will rejoice over you with gladness; He will quiet you by His love..." Zephaniah 3:10 |
There is a technique in counseling called "normalizing." Since this is not an academic blog, subject to peer review, I will just say normalizing is helping the client who is in crisis feel more normal. In crisis we may feel alone, misunderstood, hopeless, like we are spiraling. Normalizing reminds us this terrain has been tread before, and the reactions we are having to this crisis are reasonable (as long as they truly are reasonable). It can help someone who is totally untethered to hope feel more anchored in the midst of their circumstance. Although their situation is unique to them, and normalizing doesn't solve their problem, it can help the spiral to slow down long enough to get their bearings.
This technique can be really helpful to allow people to feel what they are feeling, and possibly introduce a new perspective. But here is where normalizing kind of has an opposite affect: Cancer. Normalizing with a family, or at least for my family, has turned out to not be helpful under our current diagnosis. All cancers are different; all treatments are different. There doesn't seem to be a way to normalize cancer. Here is the story of a recent conversation. The main characters are me and “Friend:”
Friend: “I’ve been wanting to ask how your dad is doing.”
Me: (being caught in one of those moments where tears win over trying to stay cool) “Well, we had a wonderful weekend. My brother and family, and two of my uncles were with us on Saturday, and we had a great day together. He looked the best I’ve seen him since this started.”
Friend: (Hugging me as I tried to dry it up) “I am praying for your Dad, and for you. I know what a difficult time this is.”
Friend is a wonderful caring person. It would have been great if our time together had stopped there. She absolutely showed love and care, and that is what I needed. However, out of Friend’s kind heart she wanted to encourage me more, she was about to try and normalize my experience by sharing hers. I know for a fact, as a devotee to normalization I have done this many times to others in an effort to make them feel not alone, or give a word of encouragement. “Well I know this story of so and so who had cancer and they are alive.” Not that bluntly stated, but some version of that. I’m sorry if I have ever tried to normalize you as you faced cancer with your family. I won't do that anymore. I’ll come sit and cry with you, and pray for you, but I won’t ask you to think further ahead than the moment we are in, or outside of God’s hand in your details. Friend’s concern for me and for dad was a great blessing, but her own cancer story, right now, was not. That is a very important distinction. Friend meant no offense. I took no offense. In no way do I think Friend is inconsiderate, or uncaring. She was sharing with me out of love. But I can't keep listening to stories that send me to my desk in tears; Mom and Dad can't listen to stories anymore either. I don’t speak/write for Chris…but go easy on him, too. I will, and mom will, gently redirect conversations going forward. We are in the throes of it right now and need to stay focused on what God is doing in Dad's life. God is giving us the strength to get through this, but our hearts aren't strong enough to compare and contrast with other cancer patients; which is the inevitable result of hearing other stories at this time. Friend really does have a good story of how God was faithful to her and carried her through the biggest heartbreak in her life. But her story makes me unable to breathe, and I really need to be able to breathe right now. It is not the time for me to identify with the point of her story. The point she was hoping to make was unfortunately not the echo that I walked away with.
I hope this comes across gracefully frank. It may sound kind of bossy, (if so, that is the first time I have ever been accused of that), to ask that you not tell us other cancer stories, and yet still covet your prayers, still desire to hear you are praying for us, or talk with you about how Dad is doing, or just talk with you about anything else; but this is the nature of where we are, we have to ask especially for Dad’s sake. If you read this blog that I love writing and find so much joy in, then you hopefully know us well enough to understand our hearts on this. The exceptions are our loved ones going through cancer and illness right now too. My namesake, who is the “Lougene” of Haley Lougene, is battling cancer right now too. We’ve been praying for her for months, and love hearing what God is doing in her life. We are not shutting down and out of the lives or trials of our loved ones. It is a blessing to pray with and for them, but we are just not accepting any additional tales of cancer beyond our own garden at this time.
So my hope is if you are in our support group please don’t stop checking on us! I love the texts I get, and e-mails from friends. Mom and Dad love the homemade jam, the borrowed movie collections, the lawn mowing, the phone calls, the smoked brisketJ, the cards, the baskets of treats, and the visits. These things have encouraged them so much. Daddy has been especially touched by all of the kindness he has been shown. These acts and words of kindness show them you care. We are unspeakably grateful for such amazing family and friends. I’m especially grateful for the women who have come around my mom to support her as she cares for Daddy. (What is this leaking from my eyes?) I would like mom to put a note on their door that says "Cancer is not discussed here, but feel free to talk Religion or Politics." Get it? I don't know if she'll do it though…she sees my bossy coming a mile away, and doesn’t always mind me.
Dad has completed 8 rounds of chemotherapy. He has this week off. He has begun to gain a little weight back, as mom is the Paula Dean of Kay County. Although she normally tries to cook healthy, her man needed to put on some weight so the gloves have come off. Whatever Daddy wants... He is scheduled for at least a few more weeks of chemo, as we are still working to put the cancer in remission. Dad will not lose his hair, he reports his back pain is better, and he isn't having the reactions to the chemo he first had. We look forward to being in remission, and scheduling the bone marrow transplant soon. He doesn't have a lot of energy, but he is up and at 'em everyday. Sometimes, when life is making me tired, Dad sings me this little song: “Oh you gotta get up and at ‘em everyday. Expect that you’ll get knocked down on the way…something something something…don’t be bitter or a quitter….oh you gotta get up and at ‘em everyday.” I never can remember all the words to that song.
Psalm 61
The Tin Soldier
Recently, I had a conversation with a man in his late 60's about his inability to believe in "this whole God thing." We were in a meeting together, a meeting I made myself go to, and when it was over he followed me to the parking lot to continue the discussion... (a well-lit parking lot with others standing around for the people in my life who would question my wisdom to not punch him and run.) He told me he thinks when we die we are just done...it's over. We are just over. Poof. He said he would like to have "faith in God," but he has surmised that it is an individual's ability to just create faith in anything that affects who they are. That it could be "faith in a rock," but somehow if they decide to believe in that rock and determine on their own what their faith in that rock means, then their lives will be changed. Unfortunately, that does happen. Some people fashion gods out of clay and worship them. For a time in my life, I tried to put my faith in my ability to have enough faith. Like somehow my own attitude toward life would create the life I envisioned. My faith ultimately was in my ability to think positively. People's "rocks" of faith maybe something different, but I've heard others talk about the power of positive thinking like it is some sort of enlightenment. A movie I saw recently put it this way: "Putting good thoughts out into the universe." What? I am not really very good at it that, I'm a little too sarcastic to enjoy denial.
A brief aside about positive thinking, or “faith in faith” as Parking Lot Thomas eluded: Positive thinking, or mustering faith in our own potential, may be a motivator to start a business, succeed in sales, exercise, read a classic, etc. We may see some results from our positive thinking and get pumped up. It’s a good practice, because the alternative to that is pretty miserable; but it isn't faith. Faith is believing in things unseen. Believing in something more than what I can put my hands on and control, especially when there is so much so often that I can't control. Positive thinking doesn't cure cancer. Sitting and thinking good thoughts in the direction of the universe will not bring the rain to Somalia. Positive thinking doesn't stop tragedy or get us through it. Positive thinking doesn't outwardly show love and cause change; it only works to control my inward interpretation of life. Sometimes it even deceives me. Positive thinking doesn't give me true hope or guidance for the road ahead. It just simply says I'm going to smile through whatever. I need a little more than that. Sometimes I am not going to smile. I don't want to positively think I'm going to be ok whatever lies ahead...I want to be ok. I don't want to positively think myself into detaching from the reality of circumstances. I want to face reality and have faith in my Lord who carries me to and through them. God has allowed me the liberty to try both. I stand as a witness to the consistency, calm, excitement and joy of faith in God, over thinking positively even really, really hard, eyes shut, fists clenched, bated breath.
But back to Parking Lot Thomas...he told me he was waiting for God to give him faith; to answer his questions; to show him He’s real. (but if he doesn’t think He is real, how can he expect Him to answer?) Then he went on to detail for me evidence of God in changed lives around him. He has witnessed the peace and joy in Grace believing Christians, (sadly he’s also witnessed the hypocrisy and judgment of those who claim grace but show little of it). His children are missionaries. He humors them, but still hasn't taken faith personally; but he keeps seeking just in case. If there is a Hell, he doesn't want to go there. And if God is real, he wants to know him. This is the moment I realized why I was at the meeting that night. To share with him how God had answered my question recently. To maybe help him see what he hasn't been seeing. To give him an example of how God might be answering him, so he could watch for it...
The Leper
Since my time in Ethiopia there are images that are forever in my mind. One of the sights seared in my memory happened as Jessica and I were being driven to the orphanage. I glanced outside the van window at a man with no legs on the side of the road, shuffling himself along with leprosy deformed arms. I immediately looked away, but could draw you a picture of his face to this day. So then how can I reconcile that image with a loving God? (Parking Lot Thomas has had this same struggle) For several weeks I had thought about that man as he would pop to mind, and I would have to try and shake him out of there as I sit comfortably here in Texas.
A few weeks later in a book I'm reading, the story of Mephibosheth came up. Not one that comes up often. Mephibosheth is introduced in 2 Samuel 4:4: “Jonathan son of Saul had a son who was lame in both feet. He was five years old when the news about Saul and Jonathan came from Jezreel. His nurse picked him up and fled, but as she hurried to leave, he fell and became disabled. His name was Mephibosheth.” His story of redemption is told in 2 Samuel 9. Click here to read about Mephibosheth's Redemption I cried at the image of that man at the King's table (it was the man in Ethiopia’s face I could see), and I cried knowing that God is so personal and loving that he would guide me to rest in Him over my concern for His plan for that man's life. He's not mad I have questions. He's not mad Parking Lot Thomas has questions. It's where we choose to seek our answers that matters.
I don't know the details of the how and why for that man in Ethiopia; but I know it has everything to do with Jesus Christ. He has opportunity to one day sit at the King's table, transformed (Phil. 3:21). Nothing that breaks my heart has escaped God. He prepares for that man, whose existence I cannot fathom even after seeing him, a place in His kingdom. His life is not going to just one day "poof," and not have had purpose except as a sight to behold for others to learn some lesson regarding our own lack of gratitude. There is justice for him through Jesus Christ. There is life after this. If we aren't desperate for justice the way that man's life is, it can be hard to see our need. We are him though; crippled in different ways. The worst disability is having so much more than that man, that we are never desperate enough to seek God. What do I do with that? Get on a mountain and start yelling? Hunker down and pray for daylight? Learn to speak Hebrew? Quit wearing make-up? Live off only goat’s milk and figs? God tells me to humble myself (know that He is God and I am not) and pray for both of these men. Pray for their circumstances. Join God in His will that they will come to know Him and the grace that awaits. Share with them the gospel by which I am saved both from hell and from a life with no hope for justice. And then watch and listen for God's still small voice. I’ve come to trust that voice, and will go wherever it leads…even if it leads me to stay right where I am, and even though that may cause me to fidget. I only do today what He has given me to do today, so he will credit that to me as faithfulness and lead me on in His purposes. That is how the image of The Leper on the side of the road in Ethiopia has found peace in my thoughts. No less heartbreak. No less love. But peace in being still and knowing...
Colossians 4:6. So I had opportunity to share a word with Parking Lot Thomas who was confronting me with his questions: Don't explain it away when God answers you. Give him credit when he answers you, as evidenced by the changed lives this man had described and the "coincidences" he shared with me. Credit Him and He will continue to guide us to a deeper understanding of Himself…a growing faith. Quit saying “God show me you are real,” but then when He responds say “that couldn’t have been God.” However, we are at liberty to choose.
Me
I asked God my question. He answered me. I can't let those images turn to bitterness over what I don't understand. I had to watch for God's response, and trust it. I could have reasoned it away, and not put two and two together...1) my uncertainty over the crippled man's reality, and 2) the story of Mephibosheth showing up in my quiet time. Instead I credit God for leading me there. I have a choice: Either it's God, or it's not. They both require me to have faith either in his existence, or his non-existence. I confess belief, and have come alive to God’s existence in my life personally. My faith isn't contingent on my circumstances, or someone else's. My faith carries me through all circumstances. My faith isn’t in my own ability to have faith; it is in the existence of God and the truth of the Bible.
After we talked for a bit more Parking Lot Thomas shook my hand, thanked me for sharing and got into his luxury car and drove away. He told me he had worked hard for everything in his life. And in short he could credit himself with everything good that had happened. Yet, here he was still uncomfortable; and there God was still answering, standing at the door knocking...even allowing me to join Him at work in this man's life for that moment increasing my faith in His Presence and guidance even more. God desires him to see and believe. Right now that Tin Soldier isn't really looking for God; he is looking at everything else in an effort to disprove God. He’s trying to get comfortable on this “issue” where comfort isn't going to be possible, because it is God who calls us unto Himself. My heartbreak for him is different but equal to the man in Ethiopia.
Both destitute. One knows it. One doesn't.
"The real Son of God is at your side. He is beginning to turn you into the same kind of thing as Himself. He is beginning, so to speak, to "inject' His kind of life and thought...into you; beginning to turn the tin soldier into a live man. The part of you that does not like it is the part that is still tin." C.S. Lewis, Mere Christianity
