Passover

Yesterday, like every other years since 1991 Mom's eighth grade Sunday school class was at our house to celebrate a seder dinner.  Here are some pictures:

The tables are set and ready to go

Matzah Tasch (three pocketed ceremonial Matzo bag)

Seder plate with ceremonial items (from top clockwise: roasted egg, lamb shank bone, charoset, horseradish, parsley. Center: bitter herbs)

David being a goofball while eating the roasted egg

lots of good food and fellowship around the table

Solitaire

*Between Christmas, New Years, and being in Iowa with my boyfriend this week posts have been lacking.  Once school starts again I should be able to post more regularly*

Life is sometimes like playing solitaire.  Every once in a while I need a break from my homework or whatever it is that I’m working on and I pull up a quick game of solitaire to give myself a brain break.  Sure it’s not the healthiest break…getting up and doing jumping jacks or walking the dog or such would be better and might even clear my head better.  Or doing a different project…that would be more productive, but sometimes, solitaire wins.  It’s one of my many vices.
Anyhow, when I’m playing solitaire I like to know what’s coming.  One of the “fun” parts of the game is that you don’t know what’s coming.  Sometimes you have two cards that you could play, playing the right vs. the wrong card could change the entire outcome of the game.  Of course, in computer solitaire you can just undo your move and back it up and try again until you find something that you like or that appears to give you the best outcome.  The computer even tells you when you have no more options and you need to quit beating your head against a wall.  And, if you have the scoring set right, you don’t even lose points!
You have options.  You can look and then cover a card up again, move a card and then unmove it. See a move you should have made much earlier? Reverse and make it.   And the best part? It’s just a computer game and the outcome doesn’t actually matter!
I wonder what life would be like if it was like solitaire.  What if you could try something out, see what happens and then undo it you don't like it without penalty? What if you could peek at an upcoming event and choose whether you want it or not?  What if you could "click through" the next series of options and thereby pick the one most favorable for you? What if you had a clear sign to tell you that it was quitting time and that beating your head against a wall was only going to give you a headache?
Some times I think it would be nice, but I know that that is not how life works.  If that was how life worked there would be no need for faith.   We would constantly be second guessing ourselves, constantly trying to do things over.  Which works if you are existing in a bubble, but we don't exist in a bubble.  If we kept doing do overs then we'd never
get anywhere in life and everyone else would get really annoyed with you.
So I'm coming to realize that I just have to be patient, to wait, to not try and guess what is coming, but to take it has it comes and make the best of it.  And if I get a 5 when I really wanted a jack, well then, I'll just have to make the best of that 5.
"For faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see"  Hebrews 11:1

The Plan

The plan was perfect.  We’d thought of everything, or so we thought.  My sister needed picked up from the canoe course she’d just taught. We had reservations at a “safe” restaurant.  We had excuses for why we needed to ride along to pick her up.  The birthday cake was made and decorated.  Chores were done early.  We were ready to get in the car with our unsuspecting father and head out.  Then the phone rang.   Phone calls at 3pm on a Sunday afternoon when all of us are home from college are unusual (when we're at school, that's about the time we check in).  It wasn’t hard to figure out from his side of the conversation what had happened.

He had a call.

He had to go respond.

Our plan seemed to be ruined.  Mom tried to cover, but he got suspicious.  Thankfully for us, he was wise and didn’t relay his suspicions.  Once he was out on the call Mom called the restaurant and tried to change the reservations.  She was successful. Then we tried to contact my sister and inform her of the change.  If we had reached her before he came home we could have made up a story about how she called saying she had been delayed in her return, but the number she had left us was erroneous.  We spent an hour trying to find the right phone number.  My dad returned. We thought our bluff was up.  In reality it partially was but, my dad in his wisdom, played along.

Mom, Youngest Brother and I, got in the car with him to go get her.  Mom came along just because (she doesn't need an excuse to hang out with her husband).  I came along so I could show Sister pictures of her new alpaca baby.  Youngest Brother came along so that he and Middle Brother wouldn't kill each other (they were having one of "those" days).  Papa came because he was the driver.

As soon as we left and were out of sight of the house Biggest Brother, other Sister and Middle Brother got in the truck and headed to the restaurant.

We collected Sister and then proceeded to give my dad directions "home".  I "spotted" a restaurant and decided I was hungry and couldn't wait until we got home and there were no snacks in the car, so we just had to stop. When we convinced him to pull into the parking lot, he knew we were up to something for sure.  Mom and I spotted Biggest Brother's truck and tried to direct him to park near it, but he didn't see it and wouldn't listen.  It was only once we were in the restaurant being seated with the others that he figured it out.  And it wasn't until dessert that Sisters figured out that we had cake for them and I had their birthday gifts.

The Plan didn't go exactly the way that we had intended it to (my dad is just too smart sometimes!), but it was still a good evening, and it made me think.

Someone has a Plan for my life.  I also have a plan for my life, just like my dad had a plan for his evening (FYI: it did not involve an emergency call or going out for dinner). Our plan for the evening was almost ruined by unexpected events.  I'm thankful that the One who knows my plan is greater than anything that could possibly ruin it. Things might (and often do!) happen that I don't expect, but nothing is unexpected for Him.  Just like my dad made plans to go pick up Sister and then come straight home, which didn't happen since we had plans for him that he didn't know about (which, in my opinion, were better anyways), G-d has plans for me that are different than my plans for me and in His opinion (and in mine), they are better anyways.

Sometimes it scares me to think that my plans are just that, my plans, and someone far greater than me is controlling them, and not just for an evening, or a day, or a week, but forever.  But when I think about who is controlling them, it scares me less.  He's been controlling everything since before time began, which is just crazy to think about.  When I'm confused or overwhelmed, I just remember Jeremiah 29:11

"For I know the plans I have for you," declares the LORD, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you a hope and a future."

I don't have to worry about my plan, because as long as I'm following His Plan, I'll be okay.

Pickled Asparagus, Radical Evangelism, Human Trafficking and Jesus

This afternoon while I was pickling asparagus (something new for me...I've never pickled asparagus before.  Just cucumbers and beets, but I like asparagus and I like beets, so pickled asparagus sounds promising.) I was thinking about radical evangelism, human trafficking and Jesus.  I know what the last three have in common, but I am still not quite sure how packing asparagus spears into piping hot jars while listening to a Sara Groves/Tenth Avenue North/JJ Heller/Laura Hackett/Laura Story playlist bought me to the other three topics.  If you have any ideas, please feel free to let me know!

Anyone who denies that human trafficking (a fancy word for slavery!) is a problem in North America, needs to wake up a little bit and read some headlines.  Google "Human Trafficking in *insert name of country or state or province here*" and what you find may surprise you. It's happening in your back yard, whether you like it or not. 

According to Canada Fights Back, human trafficking is the second largest organized crime worldwide. It brings in more profit annually than Google, Starbucks and Nike combined.  I could give you more facts, such as the fact that every 30 seconds a child is sold or the fact that 80% of the people enslaved due to human trafficking are women, but I'll stop there.  If you want to know more, google it. 

As I thought about the problem of human trafficking, the overwhelming questions on my heart were: Who is going to reach these people?  Who is going to tell them that there is a G-d who loves them, no matter what man has done to them? (70% of those sold into slavery are sold of the purpose of sexual exploitation)

I thought about who reached the slaves when slavery was legal.  In some ways it was easier then, the slaves were visible then, whereas today, many of them are hidden. As I thought more about it, my very limited knowledge brought to mind that the Gospel was shared with slaves by other slaves.  As slaves were bought and sold they carried their most precious possession with them - the saving truth of the Gospel. When they could, they sang it.  I remembered a story about two young Moravians that I used in a sermon last spring, who willingly sold themselves into slavery so that they could reach other slaves. 

As I called that story back to mind, my mind began to wander to today...could the same concept work today? Could someone sell themselves into slavery in order to reach other enslaved people?  That would be super radical evangelism.

Jesus gave us the model for radical evangelism. He could have just sent a message from heaven to tell us about His saving grace.  But I'm not sure that would have meant anything to us.  In fact, I'm almost certain it wouldn't.  It would be comparable for me telling someone who is going through a bitter divorce how to fix their marriage...I've never been married (nor divorced) and I have no training in marriage counselling (yet). They wouldn't want to listen to me and they shouldn't listen to me!  Instead, Jesus came to us.  He came to be one of us.  To walk the roads we walk, to fight the fights we fight every day.  He earned his right to be heard. He earned it along a beach with fishermen, on the long dusty roads, in the crowded synagogues, at the painful end of a Roman whipping, as the recipient of jeers and spits, on a Roman cross, and ultimately when he rose again from the grave, conquering death.  After he had earned his right to be heard, then he could share the message he came to share (and had been sharing) and have it understood and received.  

All of this thinking led me to the inevitable conclusion: in order to reach those who have been sold into slavery, in order for the Gospel to be heard by them, someone has to become one of them.  Someone has to let themselves be sold into slavery.  

It's a hard thought.  It is not something I am called to, but the question it raised in me was "what if?"  What if that was my calling? What if I had a very clear message from the Lord that my calling was to sell myself into slavery so that I could reach other slaves?  Would I go?  Would I listen?  Or would I pull a Jonah and run as fast as I could in the other direction because it seemed so extreme? What about you?  What f that was G-d's calling on your life?  Would you go?

It's easy to say that you would follow G-d's call on your life, no matter what is.  To stand up or raise your hand at a retreat or after a short term mission trip and say that you are ready to follow G-d's call, no matter what it is, but it's another thing to realize what a potential calling might be, what it would mean, and then still say that you would follow no matter what.

For those of you holding your breath out of curiosity, wanting to know if I would actually sell myself into slavery if that is what G-d called me to: the answer is that I don't know. I would have to do some pretty serious praying about it first.  And then, at some point, if I were 100% sure that this is what I was called to do, then I would pray that I would have the faith to follow through. And that answer goes for anything that G-d might call me to, not just selling myself into slavery.

Soundtrack of my day

Right from the moment I woke up today, this song has been running through my head.  Not a modern remix of it, but the good old fashioned words sung with an organ.  I've marked some of the words that have stuck out to me the most (ie, have run through my head the most times)

Christ the Solid Rock
My hope is built on nothing less
Than Jesus' blood and righteousness;
I dare not trust the sweetest frame,
But wholly lean on Jesus' name.
On Christ, the solid Rock, I stand;
All other ground is sinking sand.

When darkness veils His lovely face,
I rest on His unchanging grace;
In every high and stormy gale
My anchor holds within the veil.
On Christ, the solid Rock, I stand;
All other ground is sinking sand.

His oath, His covenant, and blood
Support me in the whelming flood;
When every earthly prop gives way,
He then is all my Hope and Stay.
On Christ, the solid Rock, I stand;
All other ground is sinking sand.

When He shall come with trumpet sound,
Oh, may I then in Him be found,
Clothed in His righteousness alone,
Faultless to stand before the throne!
On Christ, the solid Rock, I stand;
All other ground is sinking sand.

In the Interim

I have thoughts.  I want to write them.  Thoughts about love and alarms and the coming of Christ and Disney Princesses and alpaca babies and sunshine and butterflies and coloring book, but there has been a temporary setback in my ability to write these thoughts out. So in the interim, I leave you with this.  It's part of a note posted by a dear friend of mine (used by permission).  Due to a potentially chronic disease her life has been altered by diet changes and medications.  While her experience is different than mine, many of the things we feel, especially when it comes to social situations, are similar.  She did such a wonderful job capturing her thoughts and feelings, and unintentionally capturing mine, I decided to share.  I resonate most with what she writes about being socially isolated and people trying to make decisions for her.  The awkwardness of having to turn down a dinner invitation or explain special food needs or bring your own food to a function or back out of plans at the last minute because you are too exhausted or slip out to take your meds discretely is almost always less painful than not being invited in the first place. I have limits too, but I am a grown-up and can make my own decisions about when I need to slow down.  And, like my friend, I have a giant granny pill pox too.  (It's almost identical to hers). 
Without further rambling from me, here is the final portion of her note.  The only change I have made it to abbreviate the name of her condition to help protect privacy (and because it's really not that important):

It’s been hard dealing with the drugs and a special diet and everything else, but when I look back to where I was and how far I have come, I am glad I’ve been able to do these things and had people to help me along the way.  Yes, I carry a giant granny pill box with me everywhere and sometimes feel like my life is dictated by my med alarms.   No, I can't usually eat what other people are eating.  But if these things will help me to get my life back, they really are small sacrifices.

But it still has been hard to face my limitations.  It’s been hard to be different.  It’s been hard to not do everything I once did and everything I still think I should be able to do.  It’s been hard to accept help from other people.  It’s been a journey, and I know the journey is not over yet.  But it hasn’t been a journey I’ve had to travel on my own.  Yes, I have often tried to push people out of my life.  I guess it’s like I get to a point where I’m tired of depending on other people and being a burden, so I decide I’m going to live life on my own.  So I try and push everyone away.  But this never works.  God didn’t create us to live life on our own.  He created us for community.  I understand this in my rational moments, but unfortunately, all-too-often I have been less-than-rational.  This journey with LD often feels like one giant roller coaster.  (Honestly, it feels like I’m PMSing 24-7.)  Some days I can handle the ups-and-downs and take it as a part of life.  Other times I just get angry….angry at life, angry at the disease, angry that I can’t do what I want to do, angry at God, and even angry at you, if you happen to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.  I’ve never really been an angry person, and I have a hard time knowing how to deal with this anger.  In retrospect I can usually see what a jerk I was, but at the time, I’m just angry, and say and do things I shouldn’t and hurt people who I love.  (This is not a justification or an excuse because I am still responsible for my own behavior, but when I saw, “moody, irritable, and cry easily” on a list of LD symptoms, at least it made a little more sense where it could be coming from.)

I often feel isolated and lonely in this world of disease.  It’s a world I don’t understand and I’m living in it so I really can’t expect others to be able to understand it.  But I feel like people are always wanting to protect me.  It’s like because I’m sick, I’m now “fragile.”  They’re trying to keep my health and well-being in mind.  They’re trying to help with my healing.  So they end up doing things for me in an attempt to save me energy and bless me.  In some ways I am grateful, as the tasks they do are often things I probably couldn’t do on my own.  But in the process, so often I feel like I’m useless, like I’ve been put up on a shelf with the ceramic figurines, left to gather dust, but beyond that, I’m really not good for anything and will soon be forgotten.  Other times they don’t ask me to help out or be involved in things because they don’t want to overwhelm me.  They’re trying to protect me, and give me a chance to heal.  Like that ceramic figurine placed carefully on the top shelf out of reach, they think it’s a whole lot better to leave me alone than to actually touch me and risk breaking me.  But even if I have limits, I can still make my own choices.  I can be given opportunities and allowed to choose if I take them or not.

In this world of disease, I also often end up feeling very socially isolated.  Not only am I no longer a useful member of society, so often I feel like I am not invited somewhere because they know I can’t eat the food, or I will probably be sleeping, etc.  They don’t want me to feel left out or put me in an awkward situation (such as sitting at a restaurant and trying to explain to the waitress that really, they can’t make food that I can eat so I’m just going to sit here), so I’m just not invited.  But in reality, this just leaves me feeling more lonely and forgotten.  Or I’m with a group of people, and they totally talk “around” me, not even acknowledging my presence.  In these situations I’m left wondering if I’m not wanted, or they’re assuming I don’t want to be included, or they don’t know how to include me so it’s easier to ignore me, or what.  It’s hard.  Our society is very focused around food, and you become VERY aware of this when food is taken from you.  And let me tell you, it’s already a whole lot of fun to be eating a spinach salad while everyone else is enjoying yummy goodies, and it just makes it better when people tell you over and over again, “Yuck!  That looks gross!  I’m sure glad I’m not eating that!”  For the most part, I’ve come to terms with my special diet, but people telling me my food is gross really doesn’t help this situation.  You may not enjoy it, but guess what?  You don't have to eat it, so please keep your comments to yourself.

And speaking of food, yes, I am losing weight, and yes, I am aware that I don’t have weight to lose and that my bones are protruding in places they shouldn’t be.   Yes, I know most my clothes don’t fit me anymore and I look like a bag of bones.  Trust me.  I know these things—without you telling me.  You don’t need to point them out to me, really.  I know them, and everyone else has already taken it upon themselves to remind me of it as well.  I don’t need you joining in, too.  I have become very self-conscious of my body, and you telling me I need to gain some weight doesn’t help.  You try cutting all sugar and gluten out of your diet and not losing weight while you’re healthy, and now add the absorption issues that come with LD to that, and yes, you, too, would be losing weight.  Without your help, I am reminded of this every time I walk by a mirror. Without your help, I am reminded of this every time I put on a pair of jeans and have to tighten my belt to hold them up.  Without your help, I am reminded of this every time I put on a shirt and feel like I’m swimming inside of it.  Without your help, I am reminded of this every time I put on a dress that I’m supposed to wear for one of the weddings I’m in this summer and wonder how I will be able to hide my ugly, gangly body so that I don’t mess of the perfect pictures of the weddings I’m in.  Giving me recipes for high calorie, good-tasting foods that I can actually eat would be a whole lot more effective method of dealing with my weight loss than telling me my clothes don’t fit and I’m going to blow away if I don’t put more meat on my bones.

Most days I’ve come to terms with where I’m at.  I realize I am quite blessed to have family, friends, and doctors who have helped me figure this thing out and get on top of it before it became a bigger monster.  And although I can’t say this journey has been the most fun thing in life, I have also learned a lot through it.  I know God has me here for a reason, and He isn’t abandoning me here.  But there are still plenty of days that are just stinking hard.  And something seemingly small can very easily set me off.  Just last night some friends were going out stargazing.  I LOVE stargazing, but I knew I needed to go to bed.  Instead of being able to handle the situation like a mature adult, knowing there would be plenty more opportunities to go stargazing in the future, I became angry at this stupid disease for interfering with what I wanted to do, and angry at God for leaving me here for so long.  And now today, it’s tough to think about the fact that I am starting year two.  I had gotten to a point where I had accepted the fact that I just need to take one day at a time.  Well-meaning people will often ask me how many drugs I have left or how long it will be til the end.  These are questions I can’t answer, and I have more or less come to terms with not having answers to.  But every time I throw a drug bottle in my empties box and see the pile grow a little more, I think about the pile it came out of….a pile of unknown size.  On good days, I think, “That’s one more bottle closer to being better!” but on bad days, my mind creates a picture of a mountain of full drug bottles so big that the growing pile of empties doesn’t even look like an ant hill in comparison.  This is not a journey that has a known ending date or even destination, so I try and focus on the here and now, seeing how God is working in the midst of it.  But even as much as I try to take it one day at a time and not focus on the time, it’s hard to think that I’m starting another year.  This last year has been tough.  I don’t expect this next one to be easy.  And dare I say it?  I don’t know how many more there will be in this journey....  But God promises to go with me all the way, and I guess if He's going with me, the journey will be worth it!

PS: (From me, not my friend)  I am currently not losing weight.  I'm actually gaining some at this point because my limitations have made it much harder to be as physically active as I should be. But rest of it, spot on.

Unexpected Hope

It had been a nearly perfect day to end off my spring break.  The sun had been shining, the temperature was warm enough for shirt sleeves (almost outright hot in the sun!), and I'd spent the day visiting with dear friends. It was evening now, about 7pm and there was one thing left one my list of things I wanted to do on break: Watch the sunset.  I would have preferred to go to the lake to watch, but that wasn't an option (and we do have lakes in Michigan), so I headed out to the soccer fields.  On the way I met a friend who said that she thought we were in for a spectacular sunset.  The cloud cover seemed just right, it was warm out.  My heart was happy.  I was looking forward to a spectacular sunset with bright, vivid colors.  Iowa has some pretty spectacular sunsets and I was ready to be romanced by my King.

I settled down onto my perch on the hill by the soccer fields, my camera in hand, a bag of grapes and my water bottle beside.  My Bible lay open on the ground beside me. My journal was in my bag so that I could jot down prayers or thoughts that came to me.  It was going to be a great night.

Then I saw it.  A massive cloud mass coming in from the north.  It all but obscured the sunset.  My heart sank. This was not going to be the spectacular sunset I had hoped for. I dropped my gaze to the grass and concentrated on eating my grapes, pouting a little on the inside.  I glanced up again and realized that the colors had changed. I watched in awe as the colors morphed, very slowly, before my eyes.  The changes were almost indiscernible.  I noticed them most when I looked away for a time, to study my text that I'll be preaching on it a week or to pick the perfect grape out of my bag.  When I looked back, it would have morphed into a new type of beauty.  It wasn't the spectacular sunset I had hoped for, it was far better, for in the slow, gradual changes, I found a lesson.

Often we come before G-d expecting something big.  We ask for healing and expect it to come right away, in a big, spectacular sort of way.  We ask for Him to remove the storms from our lives and expect them to be gone like the waves and wind in Mark 4.  We ask Him to free us from our demons and expect them to thrown into the abyss immediately.  But it doesn't work that way.  We don't get a big spectacular healing, the storms are still there and the demons still haunt us.  We are disappointed and pout.  We know that we serve a big G-d, a G-d who has a history of doing spectacular things.  We have seen spectacular things in the past.  Why not today?  Why not this time?  Why not in this situation?

It is then that we need to realize that G-d is working.  He is making changes.  He has something far greater to teach us through the small gradual, barely indiscernible, changes.  Slowly He is bringing healing.  Slowly He is calming our storms.  Slowly He is freeing us from our demons.   Sometimes He chooses to respond in spectacular ways, but far more often, it is the slow and steady that He uses to romance us.  It doesn't mean He isn't answering our prayers or that He isn't working.  He's just working in a different way.  Just like the sun was still setting.

Glory to G-d

I wrote the bulk of this post a couple days ago already in anticipation of today.  Though today didn't quite go as planned (a sinus infection/upper respiratory infection took a turn for the much worse I ended up on oxygen in the hospital for awhile), I can still rest assured in the promises G-d has given me.  He will never leave me nor forsake me and the healing He gives me is sure.  Now, on to real post.
November 11, 2008
I sat at my desk in my dorm room, half doing homework and half chatting with a friend online.  I was part way through my 3rd semester at college and had gotten into the routine of homework, classes and hanging out with friends.  I knew when I could afford to chat online and when I needed to give homework 100% of my attention. This was one of those nights were there was nothing pressing that I had to focus on, so I chatted away.  I don't even remember what we were talking about, but I sent a message telling my friend I didn't feel well.  That was the last she heard from me.  Concerned, she called a mutual friend who lived in my building.  The mutual friend came to check on me and found me on the floor.  I had evidently just had my first seizure.  My friend tried to convince me to let her take me to the hospital, but I refused. I had sustained a fairly significant head injury and refused to see reason.  My friend, in her wisdom, made a deal with me that if I wasn't any better the next day or if I had another seizure, I'd let her take me in.  She spent the night checking on me every couple of hours to make sure I was still conscious.  I'm not sure what I ever did to deserve a friend like her.
November 12, 2008
I spent most of the day extremely disoriented.  I may have even gone to some of the wrong classes.  I don't actually remember much from that day.  At some point, presumably towards the evening, I had another seizure.  This time there was no doubt about it.  I was with my friends and they saw everything.  Even with a fairly significant head injury I kept my end of the deal up and let my friends bring me to the hospital.  I don't think I had enough strength left to protest anyways.  I was admitted to hospital that night, following a CT scan that showed some abnormalities in my brain.  The doctors weren't very hopeful that I'd live long. The hospital chaplain came to make sure I was ready to go Home.  My mom made the trip from Canada to Iowa to be with me.
The Next Two Years
A lot happened over the next two years.  I went through a slew of different anti-epileptic drugs.  None of them worked.  I saw neurosurgeon after neurosurgeon.  None of them had any answers.  I had two prolonged hospital stays for testing, three periods where I was wired to a heart monitor.  There were never any conclusive answers.
Throughout all of it, I had the support of an amazing community of faith.  They prayed for me and with me.  They held me the nights that I sobbed.  They fed my mom while she stayed on campus with me.  One very special person even left her family to come live with me, providing care for me so that I could stay on campus and continue with my education.  My faith community took me to doctor's appointments, to the grocery store, to the library. They read my textbooks to me when medication caused me to lose most my vision.  They were the hands and feet of Christ to me.
After two years nothing had really changed. I'd graduated from Central, but I was still having seizures 2 or 3 times a week.  I'd even had a seizure bad enough to put me in a coma for a short period of time (bad experience, I don't recommend it). Most my doctors had given up on finding an answer for me.  They told me I just had to live with it.  I'd come to a point where I'd given up on answers.  There was still a few more tests they could run, a few more things they could try, but I was done.  I didn't want anymore. I was tired of dead ends and wasted tests. I made it clear that I didn't want any more testing unless something changed. That was my decision and I was sticking to it.
December 12, 2010
I was watching a movie with one of my roommates while the other one prepared roasted turnip for supper.  (I love my roommates, just sayin').  The turnip was done and went to the kitchen to get some. All of a sudden I felt it coming, the pre-seizure feeling I had come to dread.  I braced myself against the counter top as I said "I don't feel so good".  That's the last thing I remember.  My roommates say I had a seizure then, shorter than normal, but still a seizure. When it was over they sat me up and gave me roasted turnip to eat (again, I have the most awesome roommates ever!). I didn't know it then, there was nothing to distinguish that seizure from any of the hundred others that I'd had, but that seizure was to be my last for a very long time, possibly (hopefully) my last seizure ever.
January 31, 2011
It has now been 50 days since my last seizure.  I cannot point to anything I did or anything any of my doctors did.  There were no changes made to my diet or my medications, no changes in my routine or anything else.
There is only one answer.  G-d has had His hand on me for a long time.  It is His hand that has brought me healing.  Nothing else.  Here's the picture of happiness:

 "Now I want you to know brothers, (and sisters) what has happened to me has really served to advance the Gospel."

(NIV) Philippians 1:12

G-d waited until I had nowhere else to turn, until I had nothing else I could point to before He brought healing into my life.  I just wish it hadn't taken me so long to fully turn to Him. To Him be all glory and honor and power!
To all of you who have been supporting me and praying for me throughout this journey, thank you from the bottom of my heart.  Know that you have been part of a miracle.

Old Ladies Who Pray

A couple weeks ago, in a setting which is not important, I heard someone say "G-d listens to old ladies who pray".  After some good natured teasing (I had a birthday coming up, so somehow I was perceived as "old"), I stopped to think about it some more.  It had been said in jest, but maybe there was some truth in it.  G-d  does listen to old ladies who pray. Think about some of the old ladies in your life and some of the prayers that they have been prayed that have been answered.  If your experience bears any similarity to mine, you will find that the prayers of old ladies are answered. What is it about old ladies that causes G-d to answer their prayers? 
Is it just because they are old and G-d listens to them out of respect for the years they have served Him, the time they have put in on this broken earth or is there something more to it?  Perhaps it is because our grandmothers grew up believing that G-d would answer their prayers.  Our faith has become watered down.  

When we pray we are fond of saying "If it be your will…."  I'm not sure this actually appears in the Bible, though there is likely a similar concept that has been pulled out of context (and I could be completely wrong on this). I mean, it's good to let G-d have His way, but if it was just about G-d having His way, there would be no purpose to our praying.  Check out these verse from Matthew 18: 18-20:

 "Truly I tell you, whatever you bind on earth will be bound in heaven, and whatever you loose on earth will be loosed in heaven. Again, truly I tell you, if two of you agree on earth about anything you ask, it will be done for you by my Father in heaven.For where two or three are gathered in my name, I am there among them."

Go ahead and read it again.  This isn't suggesting an "if it be your will let Grandpa get better" kind of prayer, but a kind of prayer that claims healing, a prayer that acknowledges the power that we have as believes.  "whatever we bind on hear will be bound in heaven".  What would happen if G-d's people really started praying in faith?  What kind of radical changes would our world see?  

Over the summer a dear friend of mine sent me a magazine article called "Diagnosis Cancelled".  It appears to have come from a magazine called "Gospel Truth", from the spring and summer 2010 edition.  Anyhow, the article tells of a husband and wife who discover that they are pregnant with an infant that, according to the ultrasound, has severe Down Syndrome and might not even survive being born due to deformities of his heart.  The parents refuse to accept this diagnosis.  This wasn't a case of denial, but a case of claiming the power they knew they had.  They refused to accept that their child had Down's.  The prayed and prayed and prayed, cancelling the diagnosis, refusing to let Satan poison them with doubt that their baby would not be healed.  Well, they went back for another ultrasound a time later and the ultrasound was clear.  The doctor didn't understand.  When the precious little one was born he was perfect.  There is a bit more to the story, but that's the gist of it.  They prayed in faith, the cancelled the diagnosis on earth and it was cancelled in heaven.  

Yes, sometimes G-d has plans that are beyond what we can comprehend.  Sometimes we pray earnestly for things and G-d choses to answer with a "no" instead of the "yes we had hoped for.  It's important to remember that He is still G-d and He is still sovereign, but that doesn't make us puppets.  If we truly seek the will of G-d and pray in faith, He will grant us the desires of our hearts (Ps. 37:4, James 5:13-20, esp 16b-18).

What would happen if G-d's people prayed in faith?  Casting Crowns sings: 

"What if the Church, for heaven's sake
Finally stepped up to the plate

Took a stand upon God's promise

And stormed hell's rusty gates"

What if? What if? What if?

And since I started this off with old ladies who pray, here is a song to finish it off, about a praying Grandma: Smooth Grandmama. (The video isn't captioned.  Here is a link to the lyrics)

Retreat, part 1: An overview

I'm not sure how many parts this is going to have, but I'm guessing more than 1, since there is a lot to cover from the last week.
To start with, I was at a convent in Dondalson, Indiana.  It was called Lindenwood. I had never been to a convent before so I had no real schema for "convent".  When I thought about convents I thought about "Sound of Music"...not the most accurate picture in the world. The convent turned retreat center was beautiful.  I can only imagine how much more beautiful it would be when there is not snow on the ground.  The building we stayed in had a couple large conference type rooms, a lounge and then a whole bunch of sleeping rooms. We all had our own sleeping room, which was nice.  I like having my own space. The sleeping rooms were simply furnished and reminded me a little bit of hospital rooms in their simplicity: two beds, a desk and chair, and an attached bathroom.
We had the option of connecting to wireless internet in the lobby, using a shared computer in the lounge or going off-grid.  I chose to go off-grid for the week...no internet.  The first day or so was hard, but after that I began to enjoy not checking e-mails or facebook or dealing with the outside world.  It did mean I had to deal with it when I got back though...Not quite sure how I feel about that.
Our days were broken into 3 main parts.  We started each day with a short chapel time before breakfast and then after breakfast we dove into our first discipline of the day.  Each peer group presented one or two disciplines (meditation, prayer, study, simplicity, solitude, submission, confession, worship, celebration and guidance).  We also covered service, but that will get it's own post and we will cover fasting tomorrow morning on campus.  The presentations were about 30-45 minutes, then we were led in a guided experience to help us practice the discipline, either individually (prayer, study, submission, solitude) or with our peer groups (guidance, confession, mediation) or as a large group (simplicity, worship, celebration, service).  After the guided experience we had free time until the next meal or bedtime.
We took our meals over in the "mother house", where the nuns stayed.  The food was simple but good.  I did eat a lot of fruit and salad. The only time I got sick was Wednesday and that was mostly because I was careless.  Gluten is not my friend. It wasn't pleasant, but it was not my worst reaction ever.  Enough that I did get dehydrated and passed out, but overall it was minor.
Tuesday and Thursday were the days that I was weaning off of Prednisone, so I had expected them to be a bit rough (Prednisone withdrawal is never pleasant). Tuesday was about as expected and I slept during most of our free time.  Thursday though (which I expected to be the rougher of the two days, especially after being gluten-sick on Wednesday) was just fine.  No withdrawal symptoms at all. Thank you all for your prayers.
Also, offer praise to our Father who heals -- I am currently at 28 days seizure free. This is the longest I can remember being seizure free in the last 2 years.  Medically, there have been no changes.  The only explanation is G-d.  Which is enough for me.
I'll post more about the retreat in the next few days (and there will be pictures).

What's in a name?

As I talked with people at church Sunday morning before the service started, I was approached by someone who had known me for a long time.  We shook hands and he expressed how good it was to see me again (when I'm away at school I don't attend my home church.  I'm only there a couple Sundays total during the school year).  We made small talk for awhile and then he said "I hear you're called Joy now." (He, like most people at my home church, have known me only by the name my parents gave me, Joellen)  I explained to him that I had been called Joy ever since I left for college and that it was really only people at home who still called me Joellen. He smiled, winked at me and told me it fit me.
The exchange reminded me of something I had been thinking on for a few weeks. Names.  What is in a name?
In Old Testament class we had to learn a lot of names and people kept changing their names or having their names changed by G-d  and other people lived into their names providing irony of sorts.  What follows is a non-comprehensive list of some examples.
Names changed
Abram (exalted father) had his name changed to Abraham (father of many) when he made a covenant with G-d (Gen. 17:5).
Jacob's name was changed to Israel after he wrestled with G-d (Gen 32:28).
Naomi (pleasant) changed her name to Mara (bitter) after her husband and sons died (Ruth 1:20... this didn't really catch on though)
Saul's name was changed to Paul sometime after his experience on the Damascus road (Acts 13:13 is the first time I see him being called Paul...I know it's a NT reference, but it fits where I want to go with this post)
Living into names
Malachi's name meant "my messenger" and provides some irony of sorts in Malachi 3:1, which our English translations render "I will send my messenger").
Ruth means "faithful friend" and fits Ruth perfectly, especially when she professes her faithfulness in Ruth 1:16-17.

Names mean something, especially names that are changed.  A name is a reflection of some essence of a person. In sign language, when someone is given a sign name, it often reflects something about them (not always, mine is very simple, given to me by an interpreter in the special education room after she had known me for about 30 seconds).  I have a friend named Bruce.  His sign name reflects the fact that he is wheelchair bound.  One of my sisters is really into horses.  Her sign name is a combination of her initial letter and the sign for horse.  I have a friend who has the gift of healing.  His name is a combination of his initial letter and the sign "to heal".   All their names reflect some essence of them, just like Abraham means "father of  many" and Malachi means "my messenger".
With both Abraham and Malachi, the name itself came before the meaning came into fulfillment.  Abraham was Abraham long before he was the father of any, let alone many.  I think the same is true of my name.  There was no angelic messenger or voice from heaven that changed my name.  It was a process. Initially, it was changed to "Joy" (or something very similar) in Africa because the children couldn't say "Joellen".  When I cam back from Africa it morphed into "Joyellen" and then it went back and forth between the three for some time, until I left for college.  That is when I became "Joy" for good, at least most the time.
Coincidently (or maybe not so coincidently) my journey to being able to live in true joy followed a similar path.  It wasn't something that happened all at once, but slowly, over time, step by step I learned to live in true joy.  And now, I can (at least most the time) agree when people say my name fits me.  I might not always be happy.  Sometimes I'm sad, frustrated, hurting, angry and a million other things, but nothing will ever take my joy away.  Besides, with a name like Joy...well, let's just say that if there is a pun to be made on my name or a song to be sung about joy, I've probably heard it and smile every time I hear it again.  And while we're on the subject of names, my journey to Joy/joy happened, in part, in Pella, which means "city of refuge".  Fitting, yes?

And some song lyrics to close this post out (sorry...it got really long.  I have lots of thoughts on names).  This song was sung in church about a month ago.  I scribbled the lyrics down into my journal while it was being sung, so have some grace if the words aren't quite right.
"I will change your name.
You shall no longer be called
wounded, outcast, lonely or afraid.
I will change your name.
Your new name shall be
confidence, joyfulness, overcoming one,
faithfulness, friend of G-d, one who seeks my face"
In the Old Testament reference above, it wasn't usually the people who changed their names.  G-d changed their names and their lives.  G-d did the same with me.  He gave me a new name and a new joy. All glory, honor, and praise be to Him!

Is it good and is it right?

As I sat in church this morning I was distracted by a rather large Christmas tree, prominently displayed to the left of the advent wreath.  As I sat there, listening to the pastor, I was bothered by it. It wasn't gaudy, it was actually quite tastefully decorated.  What bothered me was its placement, right up front, overshadowing the advent wreath.
Before the service I had noticed the nativity scene set up in the foyer...The wise men and their camel were set up above the front entrance, the shepherd and his sheep huddled by a large rock tucked away, almost unnoticed in a corner by the stairs, and Mary and Joseph with little baby Jesus were tucked away by the stairs to the balcony, a rough looking shed behind them, with an angel positioned to appear that it was singing the good news.
It was the same nativity that we had used at church for years and it was comfortingly familiar. I was however,  delighted to see it spread out, not all crowded together.  I'm curious to see if the shepherd will move to the manger for Christmas, and whether or not the wise men will show up at Jesus's side for epiphany. (Our activity scene at home is very mobile throughout the house during the Christmas season with characters moving as we re-enact the story...more on that later.)
Anyhow, the juxtaposition of the Christmas tree in the sanctuary and the nativity spread throughout the foyer/vestibule, bothered me.  What was a symbol of the world doing in a sacred space? And why was something sacred put out where we exchange small talk?  It bothered me enough that I hardly heard what the pastor was saying in his sermon (Sorry Pastor Kramer!).   The more I thought about it though, the more I realized  how appropriate it was.
So often we compartmentalize our lives.  We separate things into different categories.  Some things belong to the world, others belong to the sacred.  Some parts of our lives belong at work, others at home.  Our faith gets to shine in some areas and is hidden under a bushel in others.  Christmas trees belong in our homes, nativity scenes belong in churches.
I'm not convinced that this is good or right.  As Christians, we are called to share our faith; to go and tell.  We can't do that if we keep our lives in compartments.  Maybe it is good and it is right for the Christmas tree to share the spotlight with the advent wreath and for the Holy Family to look on as children run and play and grown-ups exchange small talk over cups of coffee.
Maybe, it is time for our faith to meet our world and for our world to meet our faith.

Waiting Room

I'm still not typing much due to my wrist (orthopaedic surgeon visit on Tuesday), but worry not, I am still thinking and as long as I can remember those thoughts, once my arm is better, there will be lots to be posted.
For tonight, lyrics from a song a dear friend sent me.  The artist is Johnny Diaz and the title is "Waiting Room".

Here in this waiting room yearning for You to say go
And though I’m convinced that a yes would be best
This time You’re telling me no

It’s not that I don’t have an answer
It’s just not the one that I’d like
But through this time Lord I must keep in mind
You’re always wiser than I

You have a much better purpose
And You have a far greater plan
And You have a bigger perspective
Cause You hold this world in your hands

The things that I seek are from You
Like the strong healing touch of your hand
But when You say no help me trust even though
There’s a reason I can’t understand

When that miracle comes cause Your answer is yes
I will praise you for all of my days
But when Your wisdom declares that a no is best
I will praise You just the same


And a video for those of you who would rather hear it while you read it (The lyrics are in the video and as best I can tell, are accurate):  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S8Gxv9CRRVM

I could expound more, but my wrist is sore (even though I copy/pasted most of this post) so I'm going to stop now.

Life's Not Fair.

I don't know what's gotten into me...two poetry posts in a row. :)  Maybe it's the colder weather or maybe it's a sign of how good I am at procrastinating on homework.
Life's Not Fair
One baby gets to go home from the hospital right after he's born, healthy and happy.
Another baby stays in the hospital for months after he's born, fighting for a chance at life.
Life's not fair.

One man is born into a life of wealth and ease.
Another man works 2 jobs to try and feed his family.
Life's not fair.

One student is given a world of opportunity and skips more classes than he attends.
Another student wishes there was a school where he could learn to read.
Life's not fair.

One person gets a diagnosis and treatment plan months after symptoms first appear.
Another person waits years with no answers at all.
Life's not fair.

One child throws most his breakfast away because he "didn't want it".
Another child goes to school hungry, waiting for free lunch.
Life's not fair.

One couple longs without ceasing for a baby to call their own.
An young women gets pregnant with a child she doesn't want and aborts.
Life's not fair.

One person hides their faith because it's "uncool"
Another person dies for their faith because it's illegal.
Life's not fair.

One world deserves to die for it's sins.
One Man dies so that they don't have to.
Life's not fair.

jep 31.10.10

Lessons from a sunset, or lack thereof...

One of my favorite things (I have a lot of favorite things) is to watch the sunset.  I love the bright colors, the uniqueness of each sunset.  I especially enjoy watching sunsets over water, since I have almost always loved water.  Fortunately for me, Lake Macatawa is only about 8 blocks west of me and there is a nice bench there for watching the sunset.  Watching the sunset at Lake Macatawa also means I get to go for a walk, which is another one of my favorite things. 
Here's one of the pictures I took at Lake Macatawa shortly after arriving here in Holland:

August 31, 2010

Saturday night I was sitting at my desk doing homework (and facebooking a friend) when I glanced out my window, which faces north-west-ish (more north, so maybe north-northwest, if you want to be all technical...I left my compass at home, so I'm guessing based on the sun), and saw the colors playing on the clouds.  My heart got excited and postponed what I was doing and grabbed my camera, water bottle, iPod and gloves (it was chilly out) and headed for the lake.  I snapped a picture of the clouds as I left my apartment:

  

My past experiences with sunsets had taught me that some cloud cover enhances the beauty of the sunset so I was super excited. When I made it to the lake however, I was initially disappointed.  Either I was too late or the cloud cover was just too much.  There was no spectacular sunset. This is what I saw when I got there:

October 2, 2010

Since I was already at the lake, I decided to sit and listen to my music and watch the clouds for a time. I really didn't want to be doing my homework anyways.  And maybe, just maybe, the clouds would break and I'd get my spectacular sunset.  The clouds never did break.  Off to the side though there was some color.  See?

Mostly though I just watched the clouds and listened to my music. At one point I was talking to G-d and complaining a bit about the lack of a spectacular sunset after I'd walked all the way to the lake to see it. I talked to Him about some other things too...asked some tough questions  And then I just sat and listened and played with my camera.  As I listened I heard (in my heart...it's hard to explain how one hear's G-d, but you know when you hear Him) Him speak to me.  I'll try and reproduce our conversation (at least the parts I'm willing to share) in English the best I can. (G is G-d, M is me :) )

G: Is the sun setting?

M: of course the sun is setting...the sun sets every night

G: but you can't see the sun setting.  All you see is the clouds and darkness.

M: but G-d, some things never change. The sun sets every night whether I can see it or not, whether I'm paying attention to it or not.

G: Exactly.  

I sat there with that for awhile.  Some things never change. Whether I can see them or not, whether I'm paying attention or not, some things never change.  G-d never changes.  The eternal truth that He is always in control, never changes.  The truth that light comes after the darkness never changes.

As I sat with it, the words to a song a friend had sent me earlier, came to my find.  I won't post the full lyrics here, but if you want them just click here.  The first two stanzas are: 

Do you wonder why you have to,
feel the things that hurt you,
if there's a God who loves you,
where is He now?

Maybe, there are things you can't see

and all those things are happening
to bring a better ending
some day, some how, you'll see, you'll see

If you'd like a youtube video of the song, with lyrics, check this out.

Somethings never change.  And sometimes, G-d uses a clouded over sunset and the words of a song to remind me of what I really need to know. Sometimes, the biggest blessings are those that come in disguise.


PS:  This isn't the first time G-d has used a sunset misadventure to teach me a lesson.  Check out this post for another sunset lesson

Wonderings on Prayer

Every morning we gather here at the seminary for chapel.  It's a great time of worship, scripture reading and once a week, a celebration of the Lord's Supper.
Every day after chapel we gather in the atrium for a time of fellowship before classes resume.  The pattern is always the same which makes me happy because I love patterns and routine.  First the floor is opened up for introductions...anyone who is visiting the seminary (family members, past professors, significant others) is introduced to the community.  Then there is time for announcements. People share news of what ever events are in the works...ultimate frisbee Friday at 3, apple picking Monday at 2, a guest lecture Wednesday at 1...
Then we move to prayer requests.  I've been here a few weeks now and noticed something...people are quick to ask for prayer: for other people.  People ask for prayer for their families, friends who are sick, communities that are hurting, but seldom, if ever, have I heard someone ask for prayer for themselves.
Why is that?  I'm guilty of it too.  I ask for prayers for Baby Jacob who was born very prematurely and is fighting for his life, I ask for prayer David TenB, who was beaten badly and is recovering from a head injury.  Why can we ask for prayers for others and not ourselves?  is there some unwritten rule about it?
I don't have an answer, I just wonder, and I invite your thoughts on this. Why is that we feel free to ask for prayers for others, but hesitate to ask for prayer for ourselves, even when we desperately need them?

Lessons from brokenness

Sometimes I take a picture because it really speaks to me and then I decide that I want to share it with everyone who takes the time to read my ramblings.
So here's the picture:

Actually, you get more than one picture because I couldn't pick which one I wanted to use.

So, here's the thing.  I don't know the story of this tree.  It's likely older than I am.  But by looking at it I can guess some of its story.  It's kind of like reading a book, just without words.  Once upon a time I imagine that this tree was growing up big and strong.  It was probably just minding it's own business when something happened.  What that something was, I have no idea.  Maybe it was a big wind. Maybe it was lightening.  Maybe it was ice.  I'd suggest hurricane (see Love is... for my thoughts about trees and hurricanes), but I know where this tree lives and a hurricane is highly unlikely. Whatever it was, it broke the tree.  The tree bent right over at a 90 degree angle. I can't say whether trees have feeling or not, but anthropomorphize with me here for a moment and imagine that the tree does have feelings.  Being broken like that would hurt.  It would hurt a lot.  That's kind of a big deal.  I mean, one day the tree was big and strong, the next it was bent over and hurting.
Continuing to anthropomorphize, the tree had a choice here.  It could have given up and died.  That would have been easy.  It was hurting, it was broken, life as it had been was over.  What purpose was there in going on?  Or the tree could decide to try and make the best of it's new situation.  It could reach towards the light.  It wasn't going to be easy.  The tree was used to reaching up to the sky for light, for the very light that it turned into food, the light that sustained.  Now it was going to have to go in a new direction and reach out, out over the edge of the gorge and towards what little light it could see.  This was much harder.  The tree wasn't used to supporting its weight in a horizontal fashion.  It had never intended to grow this way.
From the picture you can see which choice the tree made.  It continued to grow and over time, its wound began to heal. Look at the first picture.  The bark has healed over the original wound.  New bark has been formed.  It wasn't easy and it took time, but it happened.
It made me think about my life.  Sometimes "something" happens and it hurts.  It hurts a lot and I have to make a choice.  I can either give up and quit, or I can keep going, keep fighting, keep struggling to reach towards the light and the life that it gives. Sometimes the "something" is really big and it hurts more than I think I can bear, but I serve a G-d who cares for me, even more than he cares for the trees (check out Mathew 6). No matter how bad the "something" is, He is going to provide the healing.  This is something I can rest in.

PS: I was trying to find a song to go with this, but I couldn't remember/find the one that spoke my heart, so no song.  Sorry!

Not Mine Anyways

A couple times a month I spend a half day (or a whole day once a month) at The Maple and Moose in Blythe. The Maple and Moose is a cooperative that sells all kinds of wonderful craft type stuff (finished product).  Being a cooperative, everyone who has stuff there has to put in time running the store.  The alpaca collective has stuff in at the store, and since I’m an unemployed college student home for the summer, I got voluntold to take our share of shifts.  It’s not hard work, but it can be long and boring, especially full day (10 hour shifts).  To pass the time, I bring my computer with me.  Being in town, there are often unsecured wireless connections just floating around and I piggy-back off of them.  There is one that generally works very well.  I can be online and blog (see “What we have”) and talk to people on facebook and just in general amuse myself, while still tending to customers as needed (some days hours can go by with no customers).

When I got to the store today I couldn’t get my computer to connect to the connection I usually use. I found myself getting frustrated.  What would I do with myself on a 5 hour shift with no internet?  What if there was a swim team crisis that I had to solve? (I do all the data entry and meet set-up stuff…finals are tomorrow afternoon) What if I had a problem and had to use Skype to call Mommy in for back-up? How could I monitor the weather forecast? (swim meet tomorrow is an outdoor meet, the weather is crucial) I tried repeatedly to get connected and finally ended up restarting my computer and starting over.  I got my connection and spent about 2 hours bumming around the internet and selling some stuff at the store.   Then, about 2 hours and a bit into my shift, I lost my connection.  I tried repeatedly to reconnect.  It was gone.  The connection I usually use wasn’t even showing up on my list of available networks.  I tried a different connection.  No luck.

I sat, realizing I had about two and half hours left of my shift and no internet.  I played a couple games of frogger (that seemed to work even without internet) and realized that I am even worse at frogger now than I was when I was little and we used to play on the DataTrain and Atari (very old computer system and gaming system, respectively).  It does take real skill to get a final score of 10 in frogger…And then I just sat for a while in a state of frustration about the internet (or lack there of).  Then it hit me.

What right did I have to be upset about the internet not working?

It wasn’t my internet to start with.  I don’t pay for it.  I don’t make sure it stays bug free.  I simple enjoy the fruits of someone else’s labors and pocketbook. I sat uncomfortably with that for a time, knowing there had to be more to it.  Usually when something like that lodges in my head and makes me uncomfortable, there is something more to it.

I thought and thought (and ate my supper).  Where had I heard that question before:  “What right do you have to be upset about ____?”  I paged through my brain (today my brain is a book) and finally found it.  Jonah 4.   Jonah had finally gotten to Nineveh (after a detour that involved the stomach of a big fish) and preached fire and brimstone to them.  If they didn’t repent G-d was going to destroy them.  The people of Nineveh weren’t stupid and repented, and G-d relented.   Jonah was not pleased.  He yelled at G-d, angry that G-d had spared the wicked people.  G-d asked him: Have you any right to be angry?  Jonah didn’t respond but went away and pouted.  G-d, being the kind, loving G-d He is, caused a vine to grow up near Jonah to give him shade.  Jonah fell asleep in the shade of the vine, and G-d, being a kind, loving G-d who always strives to teach His children in a way they will understand, caused a worm to come eat the vine.  Bye-bye shade.  Enter super grumpy Jonah.   Again Jonah ranted and raved, and again G-d asked him: Do you have any right to be angry about the vine? You did nothing to cause it to grow, you did not tend it, yet you are angry about.

It made me think (with no internet and no customers, I had lots of time to think)…how many things do I worry about and get upset about when it’s not my place?  I fret about the weather and whether or not it is going to storm at our swim meet, but that’s not mine to worry about.  I wonder about the choices my friends make and how they live their lives, but that’s not mine either.  Really, the only things I need to concern myself with, is the choices I make.  That’s mine. 

Hey look! Internet is back on!  I can stop thinking now ;)

Would You Rather...?

There is a game that is often played as an icebreaker or just a way to pass the time called "would you rather...?" in which participants are asked a question in the form of "would you rather option a or option b?" and are forced to choose and option.  The questions can cover a wide range of topics and answers can be easy (would you rather eat chocolate or vanilla ice cream once a day?) or more difficult (would you rather have just one close friend or 10 friends who weren't as close?) depending on the purpose.  They can also be outright silly/gross (would you rather have no bladder control or no bowel control?)...the silly/gross ones often come out when you are playing with pre-teen boys...something in the age I think.
Anyhow, the other night while I was making supper the boys decided that I was either lactating chicken or a dairy goat that laid eggs.  They couldn't decide which.  (Their reasoning was that I had to be one or the other because I "make eggs" using egg replacer and water for baking due to a severe egg allergy and I make the milk for our bottle babies.) After we got done laughing I started thinking more seriously about the question. (this is a definite sign that I need to be back in school!)  Being a goat has definite advantages.  Goats are cute.  See how cute Jumper and Josie are?

But chickens give you cute baby chicks.  See how adorable the baby chick is?

There are also definite disadvantages to being both a goat and a chicken.  Goats eat garbage.  Chickens can't really do much...most can't even fly.  The more I thought on it, the more it became clear to me that there really wasn't a better choice between the two.  It didn't really matter if I was lactating chicken or a dairy goat that laid eggs.  That wouldn't change who I was, so there had to be a reason why I was stuck on this questions.
So I thought more about.  I tried to ignore option A and option B and focus on the form of the question.
What "would you rather" situation was I getting stuck in?  It didn't take me long to come up with the answer...Would I rather things stay the same or change? Would I rather stick with what I know or step out in faith?    The answer to this question really does matter, it matters much more than my answer to the lactating chicken/egg laying goat question.  Its a question between growing stagnant and being fresh, it's a question that I have to answer for myself, and a question that you have to answer for yourself.  Would I rather stick with what I know?  Sometimes I think it would be nice, but I'll never know what I'm missing if I don't step out in faith.
So my answer:  I'd rather be an egg laying diary goat who steps out in faith to embrace change, even though it terrifies me.

Authority

Yesterday was the first swim meet of our season.  Swim team has always held a special place in my heart.  For many years, I knew where I would be every Saturday morning.  I can still locate the pool in every town that has a pool in the area. I swam for the Palmerston Piranhas (now the Minto Minnows due to redrawing of municipal lines) until I aged out at 18.  I helped coach  the 8 and under swimmers, especially in entries and turns.  Many of those 8 and under swimmers have now aged out, many of those still left are swimming in the oldest age group (one is still swimming 11/12, but he was about 3 when I coached him).  Between my own races I would help with marshalling.  Marshalling is the process of sorting all the swimmers into heats and lanes and making sure they get to the right lane at the right time for their race.  For 25m events it also means getting the cards to the timer at the end of the pool.  The older kids are very good and putting themselves in order (they can read and understand their own cards), but for the wee ones it involves leading them from one marshalling bench to the next to the end of the pool and checking and re-checking their cards.  I loved it.
Then I got old and aged out.  I started working camp jobs during the summers and was never home for meets.  I figured I was done with swim team.  Then, this spring the decision was made to start a transition to a software program called "Meet Manager".  The only problem with this transition - no one knew how to run the software. Mom was unofficially put in charge of it since she has been grand marshaller for years. But Mom is a busy lady and not always the greatest with computers, especially learning new things (she is getting better, for reals).  I, on the other hand, am not as busy as Mommy and I love computers.  It was only natural that I learn the software and then come to the meets to help with the transition.
As I learned the software, I came to realize that some pretty important decisions were going to need to be made.  Decisions that would affect all the coaches and swimmers, and the running of the meets. At first I was going to Mom or Mr. Lucas (an important parent volunteer who pulls a lot of weight in the league) with every question.  This got old pretty fast. It made progress slow.  I started making decisions on my own.  Every time I made a decision I was backed by Mr. Lucas.  If I e-mailed coaches and said that I needed their entries by a certain time, Mr. Lucas supported that.  After yesterday's meet, when I decided that we would not be able to accept Saturday morning entries next week and e-mailed coaches indicating this (under the old system we always accepted Saturday morning entries...all entries were done Saturday morning), Mr. Lucas sent out a follow-up e-mailing informing coaches that what I said went.  We will not accept Saturday morning entries and the deadline I had set for entries was going to stick.
I'm a nobody.  I never was anybody important in the racing world. I was never particularly "good", never earned my team lots of points, don't have finances to support the purchases on new and better equipment, I don't have a coaching certificate.  I have nothing that should give me authority, yet I have it.  I have it because Mr. Lucas is backing me every step of the way and he has authority (he's a grown-up who contributes a lot to the league in a lot of ways) and he has given authority to me. If I had started trying to change things on my own, it would not have worked, but because I have the authority he has given me, I can make decisions and changes.
This made me think about something we talked about a lot at school this last year and something I've done a little reading on at home this summer. I still have a ton to learn, so this might not be completely sound, but it's my thoughts. As believers we have authority.  Jesus says to his disciples that he has been given authority (Matt. 28) and he says to his disciples that he gives them authority (Luke 10).  As his disciples, that means we have authority too.  Just as Mr. Lucas could give me authority because he had it, Jesus can give us authority because he has it.  Once I had authority from Mr. Lucas I could take care of some things on my own, without going through him, likewise (the way I understand what I've been reading), there are certain things on earth that we can take care of without having to go through Jesus.  That doesn't mean we don't need Jesus...by no means. Without the backing of Mr. Lucas, I'd be a nobody with no authority. Without Jesus, I'd be even more of a nobody.  With the backing of Mr. Lucas, I can say to a coach "until this point you can make changes, but then it is final".  With the backing of Jesus I can say to an evil spirit "you have to leave this alone", and it's not in my own authority (cuz I have none), but in the authority that Jesus has given me.  I think that's pretty nifty.
If you want to read more about this, I recommend "The Believer's Authority" by Kenneth E. Hagin.  I don't understand all that he writes, but he is clearer than I.