One Last Trip Around the Mountain

So back to last week and the hospital. It's Wednesday night.  I'm one week post op from the hysterectomy, and the kidney failure is resolved. At this point I'm waiting to get rid of the catheter and to have the stents removed. I don't want to cross into TMI (too much info, and some might think I already have) but here's what happened: they took out the cath and left the stents in with plans to remove them in the morning. 

So the pain starts around 9 pm. It's not all that bad, but enough for a pain pill.  An hour later, it's worse and it's different from the surgical pain I'm used to. This is on the right side in the back, isolated, and equivalent to a glowing red brick.  The nurse and I do the "what would you rate your pain" game for a while. 1 to 2 -- headache level for me. 3 to 4 -- worth taking something.  5 to 6--bring on the heavy stuff.  7 to 8 -- knock me out.  This pain hit 10. That's the point where my mind checked out.  All I remember is praying one words, "Jesus . . . Jesus . . . " over and over. I can't begin to describe how vivid that moment still is to me.  Pain, yes.  But there was such comfort in that prayer.  And peace. 

At some point the nurse called the doctor and he had her replace the catheter.  The pain ebbed in a breath and eased even more with a second breath. By breath #3, I was comfortable enough to fall sound asleep.  I woke up six hours later feeling . . . perfectly fine.  No pain. Completely rested.  It all felt like a dream.  Turns out a bladder spasm caused the trouble. We waited another day; the doctor took the stents out; and everything worked like it should.  My son drove me home on a gray day that was anything but gloomy.

Home!  Finally. It's been almost a week now and I'm feeling better every day. I'm glad, but part of me is clinging to these memories because they changed something deep and internal.  I don't ever want to be flippant with my faith or to take God's hand lightly. Or to turn him into an errand boy -- "Get me out of here, Mr. Wizard!"

My biggest take away from all this -- That little yellow flower in the tapestry belongs to a world far bigger and more beautiful than it can comprehend. There's beauty in pain, beauty in healing. There's joy in coming home, but there's also joy in a hospital bed when the future is uncertain and you know that somehow God knows, and it's okay--whatever it turns out to be.

It's Thanksgiving. That strikes me as the perfect to say it again, "Thank you God! Amen and Amen!"

Coincidence? I Don't Think So

I'm going to "out" myself as a bit of a nut with this post, but this really happened.  I posted yesterday about the Multiply simulcast and how it impacted me. 

Today I started the day with flat-on-the-floor prayer, the kind where you smell the carpet and it scratches your nose. You're a little bit cold because it's 5 a.m., but that's okay because the chill wakes you up. The dog probably thought I was dead. He came to sniff, decided I was breathing and curled up back under the covers. 

That prayer time was for family, friends, the book, and for me to remember who God is.

I hit the computer, worked on Chapter 8 some more and took the dog for a walk. So here are the coincidences that made my jaw drop.

1.  Two blocks from home I saw a car with California plates. That alone is fairly unusual here in Lexington, but these plates were in a frame that said Bakersfield, California. Bakersfield is my old stomping ground and it plays a part in "Until I Found You." I've never seen Bakersfield plates in KY before now.

2.  A block later, I saw an old car in a driveway.  Super old . . . like vintage. I get closer and it's a 1960-sometning Chevy Impala SS. Not just a Chevy Impala, but an SS.  Would you believe the hero in my book has a classic Chevy Impala SS?  His is 1962 because that's what my dad had, but still, it counts.  I've never seen this car before. What are the odds?

3.  A friend at church often tells me about her granddaughter.  Today she told me about the little girl's mermaid costume.  My jaw dropped, because . . . you guessed it. The little girl in my book is infatuated with mermaids.  Mermaids? At church?  I don't think I've ever talked mermaids at church before.

Here's why this stuff matters to me.  I believe in a God who has supernatural power.  Make that:

 

SUPERNATURAL POWER

People often argue against the resurrection this way: It didn't happen, because it couldn't happen, so it didn't happen.  But what if it COULD happen and what if it DID happen?  What if Jesus Christ really is Who He says He is?

What if he's the kind of God who loves a tired, struggling writer enough to send her love letters in the form of license plate holders, vintage cars and mermaid costumes? 

What if? Make that:

WHAT IF?

Coincidence? I don't think so.

Thoughts on Worship . . .

At Southland Christian Church last night, the pastor said something that struck me as both kind and respectful. He was talking about the church's vision to involve young people in church when he stopped in the middle and focused for a moment on the older folks in the crowd--the ones who aren't so thrilled with modern music and loud praise bands. 

I can't quote exactly, but basically he thanked the older folks (and there were a lot of them) for giving up their musical preferences in order to meet the needs of the next generation(s). There was no rancor, no "you're not hip and cool if you don't like loud music." Just simple respect.  I have to say, it touched me deeply.  My husband too.

I don't think of myself as old, but I'm definitely on the border. Just about any kind of worship appeals to me.  When we went to a Lutheran church in California, I fell in love with the liturgy that included a chant-like hymn called "This is the Feast of Victory For Our God."  It was easy to lose myself in the music because it became embedded in my brain from repetition. The melody is simple, lilting and just beautiful.  I still hum that hymn and find peace in it.

I can lose myself in some contemporary songs too.  My current favorite is "Oceans." Wow. Just Wow. It's God-focused, poetic and about the struggle to live by faith. I'm less enamored by songs that are "me" focused. They're fine on the radio or as a personal prayer, but they strike me as more private than a song that's written to be sung by a group that's come together for the purpose of praising our Lord and Creator.

I personally think rock n' roll is inherently narcissistic in its performance style.  Just look at Mick Jagger, even Springsteen (whose music I like a lot). We're focused on the performance, on the person singing, the rock star.  The audience may join in on "Born to Run," but the focus is on The Boss (and I mean Bruce here). 

What if churches did something that was done in the Middle Ages? Back then, the choir was in the back of the church, and the people faced the altar in the front. What if we put the band in the back of the church and we all faced forward and simply closed our eyes, or stared at the cross?  What if we just turned around for a few minutes and blocked out the noise and lights and graphics and paused to  be still and know that he is God? 

I'm fine with light shows and graphics, but mostly I close my eyes to block out the distractions.  Of course, that's just me. Other Christians find God in the very things I find distracting.  No problem. I can worship wherever God puts me.  As a dear writer friend often says, "We're snowflakes and thumb prints."  Let's embrace our differences.

An Act of Kindness

Allergies . . . ugh.  I could really do without the sore throat, stuffy nose, sneezing, itchy throat, etc., but what happened yesterday is the sort of thing that puts the silver in the silver linings in the Kentucky clouds dotting the sky. 

After a long morning at the day job (I work p/t in a doctor's office), I headed to Kroger's to pick up pistachios, peaches, and . . .  something else. What was it? Aha!  Allergy medicine . . . but I didn't realize it until I was out of the store and on New Circle heading home.  Bone tired and miserable, I decided to run into Walgreen's.

So there I am in the Cold / Allergy / Pain Reliever aisle, looking sneezy and befuddled because I can't find the brand I want, which is Coricidon.  It's the only thing I can take . . . Anyhow, the  aisle is huge and after a long day, the boxes were floating in front of my itchy eyes. 

"Can I help you find something?" 

I turned and saw that the pharmacy clerk had come from behind the counter. I told her what I needed and she fetched it immediately from behind the back room. This young lady made my day . . . You know that moment when you see God at work?  I've been thinking a lot about kindness lately--both the giving and receiving it. 
I want to give it,  generously and always. But  today I received it . . . I hope this young lady has a wonderful weekend, because she made me feel a lot better.  The medicine is helping too!

My Favorite Devotional . . .

The fever is spreading among my friends.  We talk about Oswald Chambers like he's in the room with us, when in fact he's been dead a very long time.  We trade notes and stand gaping with her eyes wide and amazed at how personal this little devotional is for each of us. In email exchanges, he's nicknamed OC.

His wife actually put this little book together in the 1930 several years after he passed on. It's from a series of sermons he gave at a college for ministers-to-be.  All that detail is in the intro.

I read somewhere that next to the Bible, My Utmost for His Highest is the best selling book in the Christian market. Why?  What makes it so special?  What makes a devotional more than a flash in the pan, or merely The Next Big Thing?  I'd say it's authenticity. This little book reaches out to the human soul right where it is--short-fallen, suffering, confused and just plain human.  There's no happy-doodle Christianity here. No emotionalism. No feel-good cheerleading. It's about picking up the cross and following Christ, being broken bread and out-poured wine, dying to our own desires and doing what is hard for our bodies but life-giving to our hearts. .

I sometimes joke that it's the "Dear Vicki Book."  It's been that relevant to the ups and downs of the past few years. I'm off to read today's devotional . . . You can too if you'd like . . .http://utmost.org/