Grace and the Holy Spirit

September 12, 2011, one year ago today, I answered a call from my sister Sara and she asked me to come. Come and be with her. “Don’t worry,” she said, “I’m okay, I was just wondering if you could come be with me.”

Of course! Where else would I be? Sara asked me to come.

Sara always loved to have people come visit, but she rarely asked. Sometimes it was because she wasn't feeling well, but mostly, she didn't want to be a burden to anyone. Typically, if I was going to visit, I had to be the one to tell her I was coming. There was only one other time I recall her asking me to come because she needed help.  It was when her disease, her pain, was more than she could handle. The only other time she asked me to come, was when she had Cushings, she needed the doctor’s help, and couldn’t get to them.

Sara said, “Don’t worry,” but I did nothing on that four hour trip but pray and worry!  Asking God, “please help me know how to help my sweet sister Sara.”

I felt like this time was different.  She had been getting worse. She had just received IV’s the week-end before because of dehydration. Steve was with her that week-end. He said when he left on Sunday that she seemed to be doing better.

But, she had taken a turn for the worse. Again.

God's Grace is "the power of God to do for us what we cannot do for ourselves".  And the fact is, we cannot do anything for ourselves.  Jesus says, "...without me you can do nothing."  ~John 15:5

I needed God’s grace. I always wear the necklace Sara gave me that says, “By Grace Alone.” Those words kept going through my head and I asked for His help, His grace. Without His grace, I was lost. How was I going to help her? How could I ease her suffering and pain?

 

I walked through the door of her condo.  Sara's dear friend Meg was with her, sitting next to her in bed. I hugged Sara (as much as I could without creating more pain) and I said, “Is this time different?” She said “Yes, I think so.” We cried, Meg left, and throughout that night I helped her as she struggled constantly. She hardly had a moment without relief from pain and getting physically sick.

Morning finally came and her friend, home nurse, our angel, Tabatha came to see how Sara was doing. After Tabatha saw Sara, we had much conversation, blood tests were taken, the results were received, and the words came…

”You may want to consider HOSPICE.” My tear filled eyes met Sara’s and she said, “YES.”

Likewise the Spirit also helps in our weaknesses. For we do not know what we should pray for as we ought, but the Spirit Himself makes intercession for us with groanings which cannot be uttered.   ~Romans 8:26

My head said No, but my heart felt hers as excitement filled her face. Sara was finally going to meet our heavenly father. She said “Yes.” And her journey began…one year ago today, she began her journey to be with our heavenly father and, our dad!

 08 Amazing Grace by gitzengirl

Mourning into Dancing

Hi Friends,
Shannon here to let everyone know that at 11:14 pm tonight, Sara died peacefully with her mother and brother at her side.  Arrangements are pending, and I'll be back with information on the family's wishes as how best to honor her; please continue to hold them close in prayer.

I know that in Psalm 30:11 it says, "You have turned my mourning into dancing..."

I'm quite sure that there's a whole lot of that going on right now in Heaven.

Choose Joy

Hi Friends,

This is Shannon. It's Friday evening, and Sara is resting peacefully.

Laura, Sara's sister, told me she's been still most of the day and that her last few nights were restful. Steve, her brother, shared with me how beautiful she is when she's asleep. That friends, is joy.

I imagine it's a whole mix of happy and sad in the condo right now. Sara is finally finding peace in her body, something many of us have not witnessed in years.

Joy

She'll soon be enjoying an easy breath, laughter that does not cause pain, sweet vocalization, and a reunion with her Dad.

Joy

Her finish line is in sight, a well paced race run with determination and endurance.


Joy


Sara is a woman of countless friends...friends are writing to and about her, linking up over with Jessica. Sara's family is reading the posts and is so thankful for the ways you all love her so well. Just last month, Sara held Jess' sweet, pink, beautiful bundle. A baby in her arms. She ran cars off of the bed with Elias. Memories that Jessica will treasure for a lifetime.

Joy


This place has always been one of honesty. Gitz is all about real. Even when there's pain mixed in.So, we'll walk together on this road, surrounding each other, lifting Sara and her family up, celebrating her life. We'll do it for her, because she's amazing. We'll also remember that it's okay for us to feel, to cry out, to lean on each other. She's taught us that. Who knew that as she was posting on her grief she'd be giving us a guidebook to what our lives may look like just a year later? He did.

Joy


She's headed home to Him.

Joy


I'm choosing it. Now. In this moment. Through the tears, the pain, the memories. In loving Sara, I've made my choice.

I Choose Joy

Looking Homeward

The journey is coming to an end, or perhaps a more “Sara” way to look at it is that it’s just beginning...

Sara is getting ready to head home to Him.

Through rainfall tears I read the blog through the night, and thought her words might bring you comfort as she travels home.

... I have lived in this condo since I was 29 years old. I haven't left it, ventured out, even open a window in years. It's where I am, where I will always be, and yet when someone says the word 'home' I don't think here.

I don't think anywhere, really. I think who.

Because my home rests in the hearts of people.

My home is with my mom as I think of her sitting on the porch outside her bedroom, sipping coffee and looking out over the beautiful landscape that nature created.

It's with my sister as I think of her busy in her kitchen, rushing to prepare something for Becca who is on the go, or organizing Thomas as he readies for college.

It's with my brother as I think of him sitting in his living room, helping Cooper with homework or listening to Avery as she tells him stories of her day.

It's with Shannon and the girls as they sit in the dance studio and practice for Nie Nie's solo competition, or in their living room as Yodi sketches and colors and dreams her own dreams.

Some days my home walks right into the condo, like it did today, when Tyler and Jonboy helped their grandma deliver groceries. Sweet Jonboy, who asked if he could do anything to help me. So he filled up my bird feeders and swept in the kitchen because his heart, my home, is filled with more love than it can hold.

It's with friends who are near and loved ones who are far. It's with people I've shared my life with but may never meet face to face, until we all go to our final Home.

Our Home in heaven where my Dad is. He is my home, his own heart so close to Jesus' I can almost feel both of them beating in mine, so close in my thoughts and so far from my touch.

My home is not here. It's not in a country or state or town or walls. It's in the hearts of the people I love.

And their home is in mine.

Well said, dearest Sara. You will  forever be in all of ours...


Shannon

Update:

Sara received information late yesterday afternoon that her body was beginning to shut down, and things have moved quickly since. Hospice arrived this morning and Sara is comfortable. Her family is surrounding her and reading her texts, facebook posts, and emails, so please feel free to contact her and share your love; she will not be able to reply but is taking great peace in your words, your heart.  I know how thankful she is for each of you, how much joy you’ve added to her days, and what purpose sharing Him has given her. I will continue to post as things change and want to thank each of you for the ways in which you have loved sweet Sara so well.

(in)courage: Intention.

I'm telling a story and talking about intention over at (in)courage today. Will you hop over so I can share it with you? I'll be in the comment section there all day…

Click here: Intention.

I'll be back with this week's Gitz Bits tomorrow. :)

::

Edited to add entire post:

It was a perfect July day at a lake in Minnesota. Out on a boat, smooth water and soft breeze was made better only by the company. A spouse, siblings, in-laws – best friends all of them – laughing and having deep conversations and just enough fun to not tell the kids about.

The only thing that marred the day in any way was a simple bee sting on his toe. And that random act is the thing that killed my Dad. A farmer, who was never allergic to any sting before, randomly died of anaphylactic shock.

That one word haunted me then and has been haunting me again.

Random.

I know why. It’s been a year now since that day. It’s been a year since the whisper went through our small town of devastated people. The quiet hush of, “Did you hear? It *was* the bee sting. It’s just so random.”

But what I’ve learned in this year is that random doesn’t exist in the vocabulary of God. Because once I stopped replaying the randomness of that day in my mind, and the fog of stunned grief began to lift, I realized random was only our description of his death.

Intention described his life.

No one knows about that day or hour, not even the angels in heaven, nor the Son, but only the Father. {Mt 24:36}

Dad‘s death was never random to God. He saw the day Dad was born and the day he would die. And the same is true for you and me. What we have in between is the opportunity to fulfill the wants of God as He lays out opportunities in front of us.

Opportunities that require intention.

That nudge in our spirit. That whisper in our ear. The urge to make a phone call or ask to visit. The passing thought of prayer or the ache that resides deep within for what we know we should do but haven’t.

They can be whispers and they can be sirens… but they are there. The opportunities. To be kind. To smile instead of ignoring, to acknowledge instead of dismiss. To let someone pass ahead instead of hurrying on your way, to speak the words that come into your heart instead of holding them in for your own security. Because the truth is, if you come in contact with someone you either leave them feeling better about themselves or worse, but you never leave them unaffected.

It was the simple things for Dad. The {I LOVE YOU} that flowed freely from his tongue and was felt deeply in his heart. The smile and joke to the cashier, the visit to the elderly neighbor, the voiced pride in his grandchildren and the hug to the widow alone in her pew on Sunday.

These are the small things every day that make us who we are supposed to be. How we are supposed to represent the One who wants us to spread His message of love in those days between our birth and death.

All of it matters. None of it is random. We aren’t supposed to have an urging in our spirit and say, “I’ll get to that tomorrow. I’ll visit them tomorrow. I’ll bless them next time.” No. We’re supposed to wake up today and say YES.

Yes to the attitude we must clothe ourselves in before our feet hit the floor. Yes to the kindness and the welcoming smile. Yes to graciousness and gratitude in our words and actions. Yes to the prompting in our spirits to be the essence of Him to every. single. person. we encounter.

Because while we look for reasons in what feels random, and great purpose in our lives through grand deeds and gestures, what we are missing is the day-to-day opportunities He sets out for us.

The truth is that if you are still breathing, He still has plans for you. And one of those small moments you see when you are living intentionally may just be the moment He needed you most.

Live it for Him.

5 minutes: loss

Today I'm linking up to Lisa-Jo, aka gypsy mama, who chooses a topic every Friday and writes for five minutes.

Only five minutes.

And the rule is that whatever she writes about in that five minutes is what she posts. No editing her thoughts.

Today, her topic choice is "Loss…"

So I'm going to set the timer, write some thoughts, and then I'm going to stop.

Ready? Set. Go.

::

Loss.

Sigh.

I didn't expect this a year later.

I knew it would be hard. I knew the anticipation was weighing on me. But I didn't expect for it to be visceral. I didn't expect for my body to feel in shock again, for the nausea to creep in. I expected sorrow, not grief.

But I felt grief again.

I have felt all week like I needed to reach my hands into my chest and hold up my heart for the weight of it. I missed my family and I missed the community and I missed my dad.

Oh, how I miss my dad.

And tonight as I'm writing this, tonight is one year exactly since his funeral. And I remember the moment my friend Kelly walked into my condo on that day, one year ago, to watch them bury my dad on a large screen that carried the skyped image of his casket in the church.

I remember saying to her that I hadn't forgotten. And she said, "No. Today is about your dad."

And I said, "No. We have enough love for both of them."

Because eight years ago today we had sat in a hospice room and said goodbye to her eleven-year-old daughter, Kaitlyn. I had sang to her, we had prayed over her, we had cried with her and then she was gone.

So tonight, as Lisa-Jo picked "loss" as our five minute prompt, I said "Yes."

Yes, today of all days, loss is heavy in my heart and fresh on my lips and quick on my fingers to type to you. And I grieve for us but I rejoice for them.

Because our loss is their joy as they bask in the bliss of His love.

But that doesn't stop us from the ache. From the loss. I wonder if it ever will.

Gitz Bits: week 27

Monday, July 4, 2011

Susie had brought me a little lawn ornament to remind me it was the 4th of July, so I spent the day looking out at the sunshine and being thankful for that small little pink flower that decided to bloom and keep me company.

Tuesday, July 5, 2011

When my Tyler was born, my friend Meg's daughter Taylor thought it was fun to have someone with almost the same name. For the first few months of his life I thought it was more confusing than fun as I called him Taylor and her Tyler more often than I should admit.

Susie's husband Mark almost messed up his birth certificate writing Taylor instead of Tyler, so at least I was in good company. :)

So it made me smile when Taylor was babysitting Tyler this past week and they made me Happy 4th of July cards. Those kids make me so stinking happy.

Wednesday, July 6, 2011

With each flower that blooms on my plants outside, it reminds me how close it is to a year ago that the Shan Clan was here and planted it for me. I wish the blooms meant I could blink them here like I Dream of Jeannie and enjoy them together again.

Thursday, July 7, 2011

Pure Love.

Friday, July 8, 2011

My brother Steve's family came to visit on their way home to mom's on Friday. Can you believe the one on the left is my little Cooper?

I couldn't stop exclaiming how shocked I was by how tall he had gotten. After one such exclamation he looked at me and said, "I'm sorry. I'll shrink if you want me to…"

Which made me bust out laughing. But people, that is how much that kid loves me. He would seriously find a way to shrink if he thought it would make me happy.

But the truth is he makes me happy just being him.

Saturday, July 9, 2011

My sweet Susie came over and kept me company on Saturday afternoon, and I honestly can't imagine how I would have gotten through the day without her. I really thought the anticipation of Dad's year anniversary would be worse than the day, but I was wrong. It was pretty awful.

But Suz came and surprised me with this contraption as we {she} made an ice cream that I could eat. :) Thank heaven for friends.

Sunday, July 10, 2011

I spent Sunday resting and watching the Harry Potter marathon on ABC Family, and I had to take this picture to get your opinion.

Is it just me, or does Cooper TOTALLY look like a young Harry Potter? Every time I watch the movies it makes me miss him. :)

Thanks for once again sharing my week with me! Click on the button below if you want to go to Jessica’s site and check out the other participants showing off their weekly photos as well:

5 minutes: grateful

Today I'm linking up to Lisa-Jo, aka gypsy mama, who chooses a topic every Friday and writes for five minutes.

Only five minutes.

And the rule is that whatever she writes about in that five minutes is what she posts. No editing her thoughts.

Today, her topic choice is "Grateful…"

So I'm going to set the timer, write some thoughts, and then I'm going to stop.

Ready? Set. Go.

::

It's what I've been thinking about tonight as I lay here with my thoughts. As I've rested here and thought about family gathering together at my parents' house to remember all that happened a year ago. As I think about losing my dad, as I think about not being with my family, as I think about my own life and what's ahead. As I try to peer into the unknown future trying to catch a glimpse of what I'm supposed to do and who I'm supposed to be.

In all of that, through all of that, every time I open my lips to speak to Him I can only speak of how grateful I am.

I am so grateful I have the dad I do. I'm so grateful that I was a young girl who grew up to know she was loved by her dad and never had to search for that love in anyone who didn't value her.

I am so grateful I have a dad who brought laughter into every single day and brought tenderness into every single hurt.

I am so grateful I have a dad who taught me faith by his example and taught me trust by the steps he took.

I am so grateful that my family is together to honor him and am so grateful that he will be remembered in their laughter and their tears and their memories.

I am so grateful that I know God well enough that I can trust His design for me even in a future that is beyond my sight, and I am so grateful that the same God knows me well enough to always provide exactly what I need exactly when I need it.

I am grateful for the blessings that always come out of pain. I am grateful for the people and the friendships and the soul-embracing moments that can only come from shared experience.

I have been given so much and I have treasured so much and I have lost so much.

And I am so grateful.

Homesick.

It was a year ago this past Monday that I last saw him. That I last laid my head on his shoulder as he sat next to me in bed.

It was a year ago this past Monday that he held my hand and I heard his laugh and I felt the love that a dad gives his daughter just by giving her a look and a grin.

And a sweet pat on the cheek.

It was a year ago this past Monday that he proudly showed me pictures of his garden and told me the plans he had for the yard. He had things yet to do. It was a year ago that he talked of friends who had been close to death and were spared, and commented about how fleeting life can be.

Words that would ring in my ears mere days later.

It will be a year on Saturday since he sat on that boat on a gorgeous day and winked at his wife and laughed with his friends and lived fully until his very last moment.

A year. It feels like 20 years since I talked to him, and it seems like yesterday when I sat in the back room of this condo and got that phone call.

I am so homesick for my dad.

After a whole year, that hasn't changed. I miss him now like I missed him the day they dropped me off at my dorm room in college, when I thought about running down to the parking lot after them for one last hug.

Just one more.

I'd run after him again if I could. If I could escape these walls I would run to the church that held his casket and run to the grave where his marker now stands.

I long for those things now like I longed for them a year ago, but I know he wouldn't be any more there than he is here. No one place could contain the spirit of a man who was never contained even in his own self. He was dispersed into the hearts of every person he encountered. Every life he touched. Every smile he displayed. Every kindness he extended. He constantly gave himself away.

And that's how I find him now. In the eyes of my brother and the heart of my sister and the hands of my mom. I see him in the grandson who has his tender nature and the granddaughter who has his spunk. I look for him everywhere, see him everywhere and miss him every moment.

People have said to us that the second year is harder than the first. I don't know yet if that is true, but I do know this. Having been loved by him is worth every moment of missing him. I think I'll be homesick for him until we're back together, hand in hand, and all is put back right again. Until then, I will keep doing my best to live up to his example.

I have very big shoes to fill.

20 Years.

Next weekend is my 20th high school reunion. Yes, God help me, I am that old. :)

My friend Goi {Sheri} and I were emailing back and forth this week about the reunion, and life in general, when she told me about a girls' team she is coaching. She said she was frustrated because they were coming out playing like they had already lost, and she wasn't sure what to say to them.

This is what I wrote back to her:

I would use the quote by Carlos Castenada if I were you. He said “We either make ourselves miserable or we make ourselves strong. The amount of work is the same.”

These kids can learn right now that they put as much effort into failing as they do into winning simply by the words they constantly tell themselves. It takes effort to tell yourself that you can’t do something. That you can’t win or you can’t do your best. It takes effort to decide to fail. And it takes the same effort to decide that they can try and they can do their best and enjoy the game and live the moment.

It’s all about which attitude they decide to put their effort into.

In the end, that’s all that matters. Because failing isn’t about falling down. Everyone falls down. Failing only happens to the people who decide not to get back up. So these kids can put their effort into falling down, staying down and being miserable - or they can put their effort into getting back up and being strong. The choice is theirs.

The ironic thing is that I could write this to her in a quick email conversation, but I was never able to write the blurb they asked me to submit detailing my life.

The blurb where I sum up the last twenty years and tell everyone about the life I now live.

But looking at this email tonight, I realized that I could have submitted this, out of context, and it would have summed my life up perfectly.

Because even though I now spend 24 hours a day laying in my bed, what I've spent the last 20 years doing is getting back up each time life knocked me down.

And it's what I plan to keep doing. Every day.

(in)courage: Acknowledge Him

Staring at a blank screen with a blinking cursor, wondering what to write about for this post, I did the most logical thing I could think of in this day of social media.

I posted on Facebook and asked people what they wanted my perspective on. And comment after comment came in with the same theme:

How do you stay positive when things are so hard?

Let’s just say my Facebook friends don’t pull any punches and go right for the heart of it. And I love that about them.

To read the rest of this post, hop on over to (in)courage: Acknowledge Him

::

Edited to add entire post:

Staring at a blank screen with a blinking cursor, wondering what to write about for this post, I did the most logical thing I could think of in this day of social media.

I posted on Facebook and asked people what they wanted my perspective on. And comment after comment came in with the same theme:

How do you stay positive when things are so hard?

Let’s just say my Facebook friends don’t pull any punches and go right for the heart of it. And I love that about them.

I guess first I would say, I don’t try to pretend it’s not hard for me. When it hits, I acknowledge it. I feel it. I even let myself cry about it. But I never let myself sit in it.

Sometimes we can cry and feel it and that creates more crying and more feeling. In a bad way. That’s why I make sure I consciously visualize myself “getting it out.” I don’t want the tears to make me more sad, I want the tears to purge me. To let out the hurt and frustration so there is an empty place inside of me.

An empty place that can be filled with joy.

Be filled with Him.

Because while I first acknowledge the hard and acknowledge the pain, my next step is to always to acknowledge Him.

Now, don’t roll your eyes and say it’s easier said than done. I know you want to. Because the truth is, like everything in life we want to be good at, it takes practice.

I used to have to give myself time limits. Back when I was able to leave the house, I would leave a bad doctor appointment where I had heard bad news again, and let myself be upset the whole way home. I would cry and I would tell God how much I hated it and I would call a friend and lament about having to go into the hospital again.

But by the time I got home, I would leave it all in the rear view mirror. I would get out of the car and consciously start saying thank you. I looked for anything and everything that could possibly be a blessing. {That my friend was empathetic and supportive, that someone was willing to watch my dog while I had my hospital stay, that the sun was shining and reminding me of His love for us.}

That He never leaves me alone.

He is the reason I keep my positive attitude. Because the minute I let it out and empty the space inside of me, I turn from thinking of me – my pain, my problems, my worries – and I acknowledge the only One who has the power over all of it.

And I say “acknowledge Him” instead of “looking for Him” because He is everywhere. We don’t need to go in search of His steadfast love and blessings, we only need to open our eyes and realize He is the source of all good things in our lives.

And the more you practice this, the better you’ll become. The easier it will be. I hardly hear a bad word now before I turn to gratitude. Because the more you practice acknowledging His grace in your life, the easier it is to see Him all around you.

For me, that is where staying positive resides.

Will you try it with me today?

Can you stop – right now – exactly where you’re at and acknowledge a gift He has placed in your life in the middle of the hard stuff?

I’d love for you to share with us – because we all have blessings we only have to open our eyes to see.

It might just change your whole day.

Gitz Bits: week 24

Monday, June 13, 2011

I have been searching for a way to use my laptop in bed… it hurts too much to rest it on my legs, but most lap desks won't work because the bed is so adjusted that they topple over. Which means, to write a blog post, I was sitting in the bed with the laptop flat on the bed next to me and I was trying to twist my body to type on the keys.

In case you're wondering, that hurts almost as much as putting the laptop on my legs.

BUT LOOK WHAT I FOUND! It's a lap desk that lets you put the legs in super weird positions. So for the past week I've been able to work for bursts of time and actually get a few emails answered. Of course, there was a day when I worked at it too long and paid for it in pain and energy, and it ended with me in spasms and dropping the computer off the bed and onto the floor.

But, being the luckiest girl in the world, nothing bad happened to the computer and I'm learning to be happy with short bursts of computer time. :) This is going to make things so much simpler!

Tuesday, June 14, 2011

Dawn strikes again! She came on Tuesday to clean and brought a tube of Hy-Vee cinnamon rolls that contain no milk or butter! She whipped them up while she was here and, as you can see, a couple went missing before I bothered to take a photo.

Yum. O.

Wednesday, June 15, 2011

Wednesday was a fun mail day. My friend Jen sent me this gorgeous photo book of the sights of Australia, where she lives. And I am so in love that I have decided I want to become an Aussie. Would you just look at that beach? And the water? Can't you just imagine the breeze and the smell and the mist on your face?

Thursday, June 16, 2011

Thursday was grocery day, and my Jonboy came along with Grandma Linda to make the delivery. You guys, he is the sweetest thing. He came in and gave me a hug, and then promptly set about helping. First he got out my vacuum and did a quick once-over {I didn't have the heart to tell him the cleaning lady had just been here}, and then helped Linda get all the bird feeders filled.

We made a date to watch Battle Force Five {one of his favorites} and have a sleep over this summer. I dread the day he decides he's too big for all of this kind of stuff, because it makes my heart so happy.

Friday, June 17, 2011

It was time for one of my "fruit of the month" deliveries … can you BELIEVE those strawberries?!?! It is so wild to open a box and have each strawberry settled into it's own little space. They are all perfectly shaped and the exact same size.

I can't even imagine having the job of picking them out and measuring them up.

But I am very good at the job of eating them.

Saturday, June 18, 2011

I spent most of the weekend watching this guy, Rory McIlroy, blow up the golf course. I was so excited to have the U.S. Open to keep me company, and to see ads that Wimbledon is on next weekend. The days can go by so slowly, so it's nice to have something to keep me occupied.

Ironically, I've never played golf or tennis, and didn't care about them when I was well. But now I'm completely convinced I would have been great at both! I'm just glad no one can make me prove it. :)

Sunday, June 19, 2011

This is a photo my sister-in-law took of my Dad on his birthday last year. And it's the image I could stop looking at on Sunday. I'm always convinced I'm going to handle these days better than I actually do. But I grieve him so hard because he loved me so well.

And that's a great problem to have.

Thanks for once again sharing my week with me! Click on the button below if you want to go to Jessica’s site and check out the other participants showing off their weekly photos as well:

5 minutes: home

Today I'm linking up to Lisa-Jo aka gypsy mama, who chooses a topic every Friday and writes for five minutes.

Only five minutes.

And the rule is that whatever she writes about in that five minutes is what she posts. No editing her thoughts.

Today, her topic choice is "Home…"

So I'm going to set the timer, write some thoughts, and then I'm going to stop.

Ready? Set. Go.

::

I have lived in this condo since I was 29 years old. I haven't left it, ventured out, even open a window in years. It's where I am, where I will always be, and yet when someone says the word 'home' I don't think here.

I don't think anywhere, really. I think who.

Because my home rests in the hearts of people.

My home is with my mom as I think of her sitting on the porch outside her bedroom, sipping coffee and looking out over the beautiful landscape that nature created.

It's with my sister as I think of her busy in her kitchen, rushing to prepare something for Becca who is on the go, or organizing Thomas as he readies for college.

It's with my brother as I think of him sitting in his living room, helping Cooper with homework or listening to Avery as she tells him stories of her day.

It's with Shannon and the girls as they sit in the dance studio and practice for Nie Nie's solo competition, or in their living room as Yodi sketches and colors and dreams her own dreams.

Some days my home walks right into the condo, like it did today, when Tyler and Jonboy helped their grandma deliver groceries. Sweet Jonboy, who asked if he could do anything to help me. So he filled up my bird feeders and swept in the kitchen because his heart, my home, is filled with more love than it can hold.

It's with friends who are near and loved ones who are far. It's with people I've shared my life with but may never meet face to face, until we all go to our final Home.

Our Home in heaven where my Dad is this Father's Day. He is my home, his own heart so close to Jesus' I can almost feel both of them beating in mine, so close in my thoughts and so far from my touch.

My home is not here. It's not in a country or state or town or walls. It's in the hearts of the people I love.

And their home is in mine.

5 minutes: backwards

Today I'm linking up to Lisa-Jo aka gypsy mama, who chooses a topic every Friday and writes for five minutes.

Only five minutes.

And the rule is that whatever she writes about in that five minutes is what she posts. No editing her thoughts.

Today, her topic choice is "Backwards…"

So I'm going to set the timer, write some thoughts, and then I'm going to stop.

Ready? Set. Go.

::

When my nephew Alex was a little boy, he was instantly athletic. He could throw a ball before he understood what it was. He never just dribbled, he dribbled and juked. His dad, my brother Jim, used to hold both of Alex's tiny feet in one hand and walk around with him like that. Alex would stand in his hand, straight as a pin. He was just born agile.

And then there was Anna. She was a year younger and could speak in sentences before she could walk in a straight line. She was a thinker. She was eloquent. And she was oh-so-proud when she was able to show us that she had a trick, too.

She stood up straight, held her arms out to steady herself like she was mastering a tightrope, and she walked backwards.

Oh, we ooohed and ahhhed and clapped and cheered. While Anna ended up being an incredible athlete herself, it's funny to remember it all started with taking a few steps back.

I feel like I've had the opposite story of Anna. She started slow and worked her way up… and I started fast and worked my way slow.

My 20th high school reunion is coming up this summer, and the girl who never missed a chance to participate is now the girl who can't go home. I was the girl who couldn't wait to tackle life, and now I'm the girl without the husband and kids and career and life that everyone brags about at these things.

Because my life went completely backwards.

But life isn't meant to be lived looking backwards in the rearview mirror, missing what was. Or lived looking forward on the sometimes scary what-could-be road ahead. Because the truth is that none of us can really control either one.

In the end, we just have to trust that He has His eyes on the big picture, and make sure that the life we're living in the here-and-now is filled with moments that matter.

It's Not About Me.

In last Friday's post, I wrote a sentence about the externals in life not affecting the internal. How the things that happen to me are just that – external influences. They don't define who I am on the inside.

Since that post I've had a number of people email, asking me to write about what I view as an external vs. the internal. They want to know what defines me vs. what happens to me. I've mulled that over the last few days and I've come to the only conclusion that works for my life.

Everything is an external, except for Him. The internal is Him, working through me. The rest is just what He has to work with.

That's not to say that the externals don't affect my emotions. My dad's death rocked me to my core. This disease has changed every other external in my life and I have a lot of feelings about that. The external impacts us – we'd be cold and unfeeling if it didn't. The externals of other people's situations should impact us, too, so we can be empathetic and reach out to help as Jesus has instructed us to do.

The externals matter, because they spur us to action.

But that internal existence, the thing that dictates our emotional and outward reactions to all the externals, should be guided by one thing only: Him. Our trust in Him. Our belief in Him. Our guidance from Him. Our instruction that He has provided by His word.

As I thought about it I kept going back in my mind to a post I had written a few years ago when I talked about my own life not being about me, but about what He needs from me. So I'm going to repost that below… I think it will help explain what I mean by life's externals just being a way He can use us for His good.

Because like everything else in life, I think it comes down to trusting Him more than we trust ourselves.

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It's Not About Me
{originally posted January 13, 2009}

It's not about me.

That's what has been popping into my head a lot lately when people ask me questions about how I deal with being sick, why I don't get more frustrated, why I don't complain more or why I'm not angry about my situation.

We all want life to be fair. We want goodness to prevail and hard work to mean that life will be easier and ... that green grass on the other side of the fence that belongs to the people who don't appreciate it? We'd like that to be transplanted into the lawn of the person who spends all day feeding and watering the sparse looking grass in hopes of a fruitful harvest.

But all of that is "me" thinking... and it's not about me.

The plain and simple truth, if we take big lessons in life and strip them down to the bare essentials, is that we are tiny blips on a very big screen. Only God has the capacity to see all of it. He saw all that came before us and sees all that will come after us, and only He can know the role that each of us can play that will best serve Him and each other.

So, my life isn't ideal by our standards. By my standards, it's getting less ideal by the year. That whole living in pain thing? I could do without it. The getting sick thing? Gets old really fast. The never leaving the house thing? I could think of some fun places to go. I miss fresh air. I miss singing at church. I miss dancing until I'm out of breath and riding in a boat so fast if you close your eyes you think you're flying.

But it's not about me. It's about what He can do with my life. I have learned a lot about myself, my faith, my perspective. But that doesn't mean I was given this illness to teach me something. For all I know, God saw this illness was going to be in my body and helped nurture me so I could use it to affect someone else. And as much as I would like this disease to be gone when I wake up in the morning, if it serves a purpose for another person to see their life or relationship with God in a new light, then I wouldn't ask for it to be taken from me.

Because it's not about me. Nothing about my life is about me... it's about who He needs me to be.

And how can I complain about that?

Oh, complaining can come so easily for all of us... your small house, your flat tire, the promotion that should have been yours and the grass that grows so fast you don't have the time to mow it...

But what if the small house is so you are next to a neighbor who needs your help when her husband dies? Or your tire went flat when you were driving so it didn't happen when your teenage son was driving and he wouldn't have known what to do? Maybe the promotion would have been a dead end for you and next year a better opportunity will be waiting. And that lawn? Maybe it's the only exercise you do each week and is saving you from a heart attack.

The point is, you don't know. I don't know. But it's not about me. It's about how He can use my life... so as far as I'm concerned, even those things that make me want to pull my hair out and scream "Why me?!?" are blessings in disguise. Blessings for me, or for someone else, or for a reason I can't even imagine.

But it doesn't really matter. Because it's not about me.

Hiding Sunshine

My older nieces and nephews were little ones at the time. Thomas, who just graduated high school this month, was maybe seven. His partner-in-crime, Alex, was about eight. And the third amigo? He was in his 50s. And their grandpa.

It was Memorial Day weekend and we were all in St. Benedict at a cemetery next to the small country church my mom attended as a child. All of us were placing flowers next to the headstones of loved ones who had gone to heaven before us, walking around the cemetery trying to remember who was related to whom and how they were related to us.

And off in the back corner huddled Dad with his two oldest grandsons. You could tell by the way Dad was standing and gesturing with his hands that he was telling a big story and those boys were paying close attention.

Before too long, Thomas came running over to his mom and I, declaring, "Mom! You aren't going to believe it! Grandpa used to hide sunshine in these stones!"

We'd all heard the stories before, so it didn't take long to realize Grandpa had been telling inappropriate stories of his own youth to the youth whose ears were too young to be listening.

The intricate tale Dad wove was of long ago, when alcohol was outlawed and people made their own brews in bathtubs and bottled up liquor on the sly. He told of secret stashes and horse riding and whatever else he could throw in his true story to make it just a little more lively.

Dad explained to these impressionable little lads that some of the headstones were hollow inside. And he showed them the panels on the sides that could be unscrewed, and told of the times they would sneak into the graveyards to hide their stashes of tub-brewed liquor inside the headstones of people who had long since left the earth.

He told them of moonshine.

Thomas told us of sunshine.

And none of us corrected him as we all scolded Dad and knew it would do no good.

I have to admit, thinking of it today, a little part of me wishes there was a panel on the side of Dad's headstone so we could lay down flowers and hide a little moonshine in there just for him.

And I hope those tales that we hushed him from telling back then get told years down the road when those kids come back to visit him on Memorial Day. When they tell their own grandkids about their Grandpa Mike who weaved them stories of moonshine and filled their spirits with sunshine.

I would lay flowers there today if I could.

But I'll spread his sunshine through stories in their stead.

Changed.

My friend Len recently gave me a book called, Where is God When it Hurts? by Philip Yancey. I read it right after I had read Ann's book One Thousand Gifts and I found them to be a great combination.

Yancey's book was interesting because it actually talked about pain from a medical standpoint, and then went on to talk about ways of dealing with it, looking at it and helping others through it when you are the one who is well. There weren't really huge revelations in it for me, but there were a lot of head-nodding moments.

Moments where he put into words things I believe.

One of my favorite quotes from him is this:

We are not put on earth merely to satisfy our desires, to pursue life, liberty, and happiness. We are here to be changed, to be made more like God in order to prepare us for a lifetime with him.

Whether we like it or not, sometimes being changed means living through painful circumstances.

It goes against everything we're taught in this society, doesn't it? When we think of the American Dream we aren't sitting around thinking about how we can better ourselves, we're thinking of bettering our circumstances. Our paychecks. Our house. Our car. Our status. Our appearance. And we think those things will bring happiness because we assume that the neighbor down the street who has all of these things, and appears to be happy, really is.

What we can't see is behind their closed doors. And we certainly can't see into their hearts.

No, we need to be looking beyond the surface of our own lives and see how we can be shaped and formed and changed into images of Him.

One surface example that I struggled with for years was the way I looked. I went through treatment for anorexia when I was 16, and while I ebbed and flowed in that recovery over the years, the one thing that never changed was my internal dialog. I was so sure that if I could just control how I looked, and got to a place where I felt I should be, that I would be happy. It was a façade of control that I was sure was the answer to every bad feeling I ever had.

Slowly over the years, as I got sicker and my body failed me, that false control slipped further and further from my grip. I was on and off steroids, the weight I so carefully controlled spiraled in any direction based on medications and hospital stays, and as it all went haywire I still believed in my mind that I would always get control of it again.

Once I got off the steroids my weight would stabilize.

Once they controlled my pain I would work out again.

Once I got control of the circumstances in my life, I could arrange my future the way I envisioned it.

It's amazing how much credit I gave myself.

I believed that somehow, even though it was medically impossible, I would be stronger than this degenerative disease.

Notice the "I" statements in there? It was all going to be in my control and my power to appear on the outside the way I didn't feel on the inside. God played no part in this area of controlling my weight… because I knew once I let Him in, I would be changed.

And even though I had no control, the illusion of it kept me powerful in my own mind.

In reality, it just kept me weak.

Then Cushing's happened. I went from my well-controlled small frame to just shy of 200 pounds in a matter of four months. And I had to find a way to live in a body I didn't recognize. I had to find a way to be joyful in a state that was my worst nightmare. I decided I was just going to have to learn to live in this body that I couldn't stand.

But in the next breath my lungs were infected and my body was getting sicker. In the next breath my Dad suddenly died and the shock mixed with illness sent my body in a spiral that in mere months had me losing all of the weight steroids and Cushing's had put on my frame.

So, now I'm back to where I started. Below the weight I was at when Cushing's hit. And what did all of that craziness do for me?

It changed me.

Through the hardest times in my life, I stayed open enough to learn my greatest lesson: Control is an illusion. Life will do with me what it pleases, my circumstances will change, my pain will fluctuate, my finances will come and go, my health will alter at will and alter my weight right along with it, and the only thing I can do is stay open to letting God change me in those circumstances.

He used the circumstance of my life to help me grow. He used me in the circumstances life put me in to change my heart.

We are here to be changed, to be made more like God in order to prepare us for a lifetime with him.

And more often than not, being changed hurts.

I've come to understand that the only thing I can control is whether or not I open my heart. Open it to embrace my circumstances. Open it to be who He needs me to be in the here and now rather than assume happiness can come from the "if only…" and "when I get…". Open it enough to let Him in and change me here so I can be with Him there.

Do you find yourself getting lost in the "if only" or "when I get" mentality? What do you need to let go of to open yourself to change?

5 minutes: when seasons change

Today I'm linking up to Lisa-Jo aka gypsy mama, who chooses a topic every Friday and writes for five minutes.

Only five minutes.

And the rule is that whatever she writes about in that five minutes is what she posts. No editing her thoughts.

Today, her topic choice is "When seasons change…"

So I'm going to set the timer, write some thoughts, and then I'm going to stop.

Ready? Set. Go.

::

I was just talking to a friend of mine this week about how the season change has been weird here in Iowa this year. None of us feel like summer is almost upon us… it's as if spring is just beginning to peek her head out from under the snow. My friends' kids aren't even counting down the last days of school – which is completely unheard of. But when the weather still feels like the end of March, it's hard to remember where we're at on the rotating calendar and that summer is fast approaching.

I think we rely on the familiar to gauge where we are in life. We rely on the same 2+2=4 mentality, and it throws us off when things don't add up like we're used to.

The weather not being the same, our schedules not following a normal pattern, health changing, losing loved ones, having kids, watching them graduate… these are all things that I have been through or watched loved ones go through this year.

And all of them have thrown us off. All of them have felt like moments not adding up. All of them have thrust us into seasons we may not have been ready for.

But the truth is, these moments have simply thrust us into another new normal to add to the constant new normals in our lives. And we have to be thrust into them because we so often long for sameness, and change would not always be our first option.

But weather changes and we learn to appreciate the blossoms and the warmth. Schedules alter and we learn to adapt and see beauty where we may have missed it if we hadn't altered course. Health declines and we adapt and find blessings in the most unexpected circumstances. Loved ones die and we find that mourning aches us to our core, but we learn to trust in God in a way we never knew possible. Babies are born and we learn to celebrate more than we fear, and as kids graduate we learn to let go and trust more than we worry.

The seasons will always change, sometimes at a different pace than we are expecting. But the joy and blessings are always within reach if we just put out our hands to receive them.

So remember to give thanks.

Even when the seasons change.

5 minutes: if I knew I could

Today I'm linking up to Lisa-Jo aka gypsy mama, who chooses a topic every Friday and writes for five minutes.

Only five minutes.

And the rule is that whatever she writes about in that five minutes is what she posts. No editing her thoughts.

Today, her topic choice is "If I knew I could, I would…"

So I'm going to set the timer, write some thoughts, and then I'm going to stop.

Ready? Set. Go.

::

If I knew I could, I would open a window and savor the breeze before walking out my sliding glass door and fully savoring the wind. I would turn my face to the sun and soak in its warmth and put my bare feet in wet grass and let them settle into the earth.

If I knew I could, I would sit at a lake with family and friends, have a barbeque, eat things with cheese and butter and have a drink and dance.

I would dance until I couldn't. And then I'd dance some more.

If I knew I could, I would sing. I would sing until my lungs burst from the pressure of the air and then I would go to another place, another home, another church, another wedding, another funeral and I would sing some more. I would look people in the eye and make sure my song connected to their soul.

If I knew I could, I would walk the walk to my dad's graveside and leave my tears there with my family's. I would tell him how sorry I was it took me so long and I would lay on the grass and just be with him again. I would do that if I could.

If I knew I could, I would spend the rest of my life sitting with friends. Loving them. Talking to them. Hugging them. Laughing with them and crying with them and celebrating and mourning. I would spend the rest of my life living my life in the presence of people, trying to be His presence to them.

If I knew I could, I would take poor Riley for a walk.

If I knew I could, I would write the book everyone says they want. I would feel well and healthy and not take a moment of actual energy for granted. I would live free of pain and headaches and nausea and weakness. And I would still come here to talk to you all, because it's where all my friends can meet at once.

If I knew I could, I would.