No Stops For A Few Days, We Must Contain The Plague

Well, if I thought yesterday was bad  today is worse. I am pretty sure Noah was calling whales. At least, that is what it sounded like. Somewhere in the whale calls were things like "Moooooommmmm I'm soooooooo siiiiiicckkkkkk" and "Pllllllllllllllleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaaaaaassseeeee hhhhheeelp meeeeeeeeeeeeeee" and "I'm in sooooooooooooooooooooooo muuuuuuuuuuuchhhhhhhhhhhh paiiiiiiiiinnnnnnnnnnnnn". Exactly as I typed it, I promise, with whale song like sounds - only not as musical.
And, of course, the last thing Bee needs is to be exposed to something when she is on the last of her antibiotic shots and oral antibiotics. Thank God I have tea, chocolate and magic pills for the crazy. I just wish I'd purchased night time cold medication instead of regular because Noah would sleeping right now instead of taking my very last nerve and running it through a meat grinder. Noah pointed out last night that some animals eat their young when they are ill or injured. I politely declined, I'm mostly vegetarian and he does have some redeeming qualities. Today, I am marveling at the wisdom of some animals.
I am taking a moment, sitting down to drink some tea and on my wall is the following scripture:

Philippians 4:6-7 Be anxious for nothing, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all comprehension, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.

I've probably posted that one before, it does help a lot. Right next to that is a picture of snow, which is soothing to my soul as I love snow more than I can possibly express and miss it so much that each year my soul dies just a little as winter comes and goes and there is nary a flake to be found in this tropical "paradise". Ugh, I think I hear a lung being hacked up, guess I'll go clean that up now.

Sigh.

A Quick Side Trip To Joy

This will be a short post again, now instead of one sick child I'm dealing with two and I'm not feeling fantastic myself. However, I wanted to share my morning passage as it was just so uplifting. As you know I went crazy about six months ago or so, and so joy, hope, peace . . . not in abundance in my house. But every morning I read this morning prayer that is like a dedication of my day, my time and my attention to God. Then I read a praise passage in the bible. A while back I looked up a whole bunch of them and wrote them on an index card. Each morning I look one up and read it. Even the darkest of my days I start with praise to God, it is just plain essential. Today the passage was Romans 15:7 but I kept reading and came to this:

Romans 15:13 May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit. 

I needed that today, and of course God knew that. Not to say I was unhappy - though I've been trying to cut back on the magic pills and I can feel that anxiety slithering around in the back of my brain again - but just that joy, hope, and peace just feel too dangerous. Christmas day was extraordinary in our house this year. For starters, the priest at the church my son attends (Bee and I can't go, obviously, without any form of transport) came out. He was there to bless Bee and he brought two members of RCIA - who were just about two of the nicest people I have ever met. And this priest! First - priests and nuns are like rock stars to me (well, and writers. I'd need smelling salts if I ever met Stephen King or Judy Blume) so the fact that an actual priest was in my home was just so exciting. But this priest! He was so . . . exuberant. He simply radiated energy and joy and, according to my son, he is like that all the time. No wonder my son was willing to walk all that way for mass! So he comes over and blesses Bee. And let me tell you, she was happy and excited. I haven't heard her that vocal in AGES, seriously. She knew. Or maybe Father Mike's absolute joy and love just washed over her. I don't know. All I do know is that she was happy and so was I. Gosh, even Noah was and usually he is deep in the middle of moody teenage angst. But I tell you this because . . . it terrified me. To be that joyful, that hopeful, was frightening. The good days always are, because the bad days are so much worse, so much more of a fall.
Wow, I started this post two hours ago and only am just getting back to it. Apparently a sinus infection and sore throat are equivelant to the Black Plague to 16 year old boys. He keeps saying "Mom, I'm in so much pain, help me!" And I thought . . . didn't his dear friend and mentor give him a shillelagh for Christmas? Hmmm. It IS heavy . . . one good hit in just the right spot would knock him out for hours . . . but I decided against that particular form of pain relief.
Okay, so to make this quick because he'll need me again quite soon and the nurse should be coming for Bee at some point for her daily shot so I'll wrap this up. I'm pretty sure I had a point two hours ago and now I've just lost it. And I hear Noah growling so I must hurry. Joy is a good thing, a gift from God. Much like the child now beating on his bedroom wall crying "Moooooommmm. Moooommmm!"
Back again. Okay, joy is a gift. People that radiate joy like Father Mike are a blessing. And so, on Christmas Day, God was so very present in our apartment through the joy and love of Father Mike, Angie and Tom. Then, they handed us gifts and Christmas cards (which really excited me as I LOVE Christmas cards, I keep them year after year and I have tons of them) and found that they had blessed us even more. When my kids are better I must sit down and write each of them a letter but I do not think there are words to convey how we feel. But I will try. At first, my son and I balked at their kindness, we discussed the most tactful way of declining and returning the bulk of their kindness. We consulted Noah's sponsor/mentor and he told me that I needed to accept their kindness with gratitude and joy, that they would not have been so kind to us if they did not want to be. I felt selfish at the thought of allowing this, and we discussed it at length.
Oh good heavens, he's banging on his wall again. Okay - joy is good. Scary but good. It is a gift from God. Plus, there are people out there that have the gift for spreading joy just by their very presence and we were so blessed Christmas Day. Now I must finish because I have a shillelagh to find. . .

God's In Charge of the Time Table, Thankfully - Cause I'm Always Running Late

This is just a quick post of thanksgiving. Something that I have dreaded happened today and God just made things work out well. I took my magic pills but I hardly needed them, God was amazing. He has perfect timing. Weeks ago a friend of mine that usually visits on Sundays couldn't because her truck wouldn't start - turns out two days later she was at the ER because she was very sick and very contagious! I put off hanging my wreath all day one day and when I finally did I was in the right place at the right time to see my elderly neighbor needed help (we ended up calling an ambulance for her). God's got amazing timing! But this has to be short because the nurse is coming to give Bee a shot. Prayers please, that this course of treatment works. We want to get her to her 21st birthday in January (the 6th, Epiphany) and beyond!!!!

Psalm 95:2-3 Let us come before Him with thanksgiving and extol Him with music and song. For the Lord is the great God, the great King above all gods.

What The Dickens?!

The train is pulling into a train yard today - total chaos. My brain is going in a million different directions and the magic pills are only helping so much.
First things first - my Bee is very ill and not getting better. I know that we've been so blessed to have nearly 21 years already, but I suppose I am selfish and want more time. I'm not foolish enough to think I'll get another full year, I understand that. But I'm hoping for a few more months, maybe until I'm sane again. I don't think I could handle her passing in the best of times, right now during my unfortunate dip into the crazy pool, I think it would do me in. However, she had such a treat just a few days ago! We love the Beekman 1802 Boys and they wished her a Merry Christmas and even showed a painting she had done for them on their 24 hour live marathon! She was so cheered by that! And on Christmas day, Father Mike and some of the others from the church are going to come and bless her. The doctor is calling in a nurse for daily antibiotic shots. And today, my morning scripture was uplifting and hopeful and just perfectly timed:

James 5:13-15 Is any one of you in trouble? He should pray. Is anyone happy? Let him sing songs of praise Is any one of you sick? He should call the elders of the church to pray over him and anoint him with oil in the name of the Lord. And the prayer offered in faith will make the sick person well; the Lord will raise him up. If he has sinned, he will be forgiven.

Second things - my crazy. You know, I think the most frustrating thing about the panic, the anxiety is that there is no logic to it. You can sit yourself down and think clearly, logically, and yet it makes not one whit of difference. Knowing that you are fixating on something foolishly does not help, thinking it through does not help. For example, I am anxious about my fridge, for starters. I am constantly afraid it is going to break down. Every time it turns off I find my heart racing, checking the clock, waiting till it turns on again. Now I didn't just fixate for no reason, the temp fluctuates, it began making a worrisome buzzing sound, it makes all manner of loud and scary noises. And also, if it broke down and our food went bad, I have no means to replace the food to feed Noah. That terrifies me. I also have panic attacks about the rest of the apartment. I can't use my dryer anymore because apparently the vent that runs through my bedroom ceiling must be broken somewhere because the condensation of the drying clothes has been leaking from the ceiling and also you can hear it dripping into the walls - the complex dismissed it, apparently it happens in several apartments. So now I hang all my clothes to dry and just fluff them in the dryer. About a year ago our floors developed hills and valleys practically overnight. Again, apparently something not to worry about. But I do. I worry that this place is going to fall apart and we will be homeless again. That thought terrifies me more than I can express. In fact, that was about the time I started getting the little cracks in my sanity. I have a friend that prays for my fridge every day. Isn't that lovely? She embraces my crazy and prays about my fridge just because.

Thirds - I'm 42 today. I've been watching old episodes of the British comedy "Are You Being Served" and in one episode a man tells Mrs. Slocombe that he wants to buy a dress. She asked the age range and he says younger forties (that'd be where I'm at) and Mrs. Slocombe tells Ms. Brahms to get something from the "younger middle age category". Younger MIDDLE AGE???? That's where I'm at now? Middle age? How did that happen? I was 19 just YESTERDAY. And now I'm middle aged. I don't mind, so much, it's just that I had so many hopes and dreams and it feels like it is too late for them now. Like I'm an apple that fell off the tree and rolled under a bush and now I'm just drying out and if anyone ever happens to find me I'll look like one of those carved dried apples that look like little old ladies and they'll toss me back down again and that will be that.

Fourth - I've been thinking about my "friends". The ones mentioned before. Last night I found myself crying over them. All of it hurt, the things they said, the way they just walked away, the awful phone call from one of them saying terrible things but, mostly, the fact that not one of them chose to defend me. Oh drama llama. I miss them and I find myself crying over them more often than I care to. I'm not angry, just so hurt and confused. Who CHOOSES to become ill in any way, mental or physical?? No one would choose to have their brain turn on them like this, to feel like this all the time! I didn't choose this.

Fifth - how could I be so blind, me - the lover of Dickens? Me, who can quote A Christmas Carol practically line for line? Last night Bee and I were watching Patrick Stewart's film version - much darker than our usual preferences (Mickey's Christmas Carol and A Muppet's Christmas Carol) but quite good. I looked over at our Advent wreath and thought about how upset I've been, not being able to get my kids or anyone else what  I'd like to buy them. Worrying about stuff. Stuff! I lit my "miracle candle" and said a prayer of thanksgiving for all the miracles, but especially the miracle of the birth of Christ. I thought about that for a long time. Because we aren't really just celebrating the birth of Christ. We are celebrating the love of God, the love that Jesus also has for us. That they both chose - chose freely and without hesitation - to make such sacrifices for us all. God knew that Jesus would suffer loneliness, pain, fear, so many terrible things. And Jesus understood that as well. And yet they both chose love anyway. Why one Earth am I worried about foolish things like what I can afford to purchase when I should be showing my love and care daily to my children, to the people around us. God authored a whole book just to tell me that, sent His Son to show me that, inspired Dickens to write about it in the most lyrical, moving story ever written. Stuff is just stuff. It comes, it goes, we don't really need stuff. We need God, Jesus, each other. I'm rambling, I know. It's just that I found myself staring at the screen, at Capt. Picard as Scrooge laughing and frolicking because he finally realized it - Christmas is a feeling. Christmas is every single day. Christmas comes to us even without trees, decorations, presents (come to think of it, Dr. Seuss had it, as well). Christmas is an attitude, one of gratitude, humility, love, charity, compassion and thanksgiving and it should rule our hearts daily. It is not a season, a particular day of the year, it is choice every single day to look at the people around us with love NO MATTER WHAT. No matter that they might be unkind to you, or rude. No matter that they might hurt you. No matter that you are tired and broken. No matter what because we are all beloved children of God - every single person you see is a beloved child of God and someone that God sent His son to suffer and die for. God had to watch all that, you know. As a parent I think about that, about God watching it all and standing by His choice to love us, watching with pride that Jesus daily made that same choice despite everything.

I may or may not post again before Christmas Day. If I don't I wish you a Merry Christmas and implore you to remember that Christmas is a daily act of love to everyone you meet, the whole year 'round. And I'll leave you with this, for comfort and inspiration, as it is one of my favorites. Remember as you read it that this is what God and Jesus offer you, and what they want you to offer to others - love and peace:

Matthew 11: 28-30 Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.

Is There An Infirmary Car On This Train?

Since nobody actually reads this blog I guess I can really consider it a diary, lol. Except for the (according to my stats) occasional Russian citizen (I thank you and promise I'm not a typical example of your average American). So I'm going to divulge a bit of information that I've shared with absolutely no one, not even my doctor yet. And not my doctor because she ordered an MRI many months ago and I had a bit of a claustrophobia issue (I practically clawed my way out of the machine, hysterical) and had to reschedule. Which I haven't done yet because at the time of the MRI debacle I hadn't fully realized that I was developing a full blown anxiety disorder. And although I'm being treated with semi magic pills for that, and was given a special magic pill to take for the MRI, the thought of going into that tube again freaks me out. I can't even handle the idea of that little cage thing they put over your face. That was actually when I started to panic last time. And so, until I can pluck up the courage to reschedule (yes, I'll do it soon, I know it needs to be done) and then get the energy to walk down there (I'm so tired lately) there is no point in telling my doctor my secret because she would say "Well, we really do need a good look at your brain, my dear." And then she'd give me that look like she's disappointed in me. So until then I will keep it to myself. Well, except for putting it out here on the internet. Which will largely go unnoticed. But it is kind of like gifts. When I buy a gift for someone it must be last minute because otherwise I can't wait and keep quiet until they open it, it drives me crazy. I want to see them open it and be happy so I badger them with hints and basically make gift getting for others an absolute nightmare because I am terrible at secrets. Now, I'll keep them, if I give you my word I'll keep it, but you can just be sure it will drive me nuts. So here is my secret: I have begun to develop small little signs that my lupus has moved into the neurological arena. When they first diagnosed me with lupus after my son was born I was shocked. The only thing I knew about lupus was what I'd seen in that movie Gross Anatomy and that wasn't good! But the doctor said that mine was mostly causing a lot of inflammation and that with a healthy diet, exercise, I'd be fine. I believed him and so for years I just kind of went on with life. As we get older we all get aches and pains, right? By the time I was really sick and in a lot of pain and found a good doctor my SED rate was over 100. It still hovers around 40, no matter what I do. And for several years it has mostly been joint pain and mild arthritis issues, some very mild kidney issues, just general icky feeling, a constant feeling of being tired and a LOT of weight gain from the Prednisone. And I know that I've been lucky, lots of women have suffered far worse with their lupus. But lately I've been having other symptoms and I know that although my life seems to be at a standstill (in Crazy Town, no less) my lupus is marching forward at a slow but steady pace. I just had to put it out there. I could never tell my son, he has enough to deal with. Besides, I just have one more year of his childhood and then he is officially an adult. Some nights I weep for all the things I wish I could give him. And not really things, experiences. Without a car we can't even go to the grocery store together, one of us must always watch my daughter. We haven't been out together to do anything other than walking to doctor appointments or the hospital in about four years. So many things I wanted to do with him, so much lost time. And really, he is such an extraordinary young man, he deserves the best. But in a year and one month he'll be an adult and rush off to live his life his way. My daughter will probably be gone by then, her health has been fading the last year or so and in the last six months she has been almost constantly ill. Once they are both gone I wonder sometimes if I will just . . . fade away? I have two friends, and they have busy lives of their own. So I wonder if one day one of them would say to themselves "Hmm. Didn't I used to know this one kind of annoying woman named . . . ?" and then the moment would pass and I'd find myself just a wisp of nothingness.
When my daughter was diagnosed nearly 21 years ago, I didn't understand what this life would be. When my husband left us, I did, and I made a choice. I didn't realize we'd end up living below the poverty level, but I knew it would be tough and that my life would become very small. I made that choice, to keep my daughter with me so that she would always be in a loving home, always know comfort and kind voices, never be afraid (except for lately we've had to go to the doctor for a lot of antibiotic shots and she'd beginning to flinch when she hears the nurse, poor thing). Point is, I knew that my circle would grow smaller and smaller, just not this small. My son, however, is finally starting to widen his circle, and that makes me excited. I want so much for him. I don't care if he makes lots of money, or becomes "successful" in some sort of career, I just want him to be happy, to be kind, to always be compassionate, charitable, and always open minded and fair. Rich would be nice, mind you. I'd like to eventually end up in a place as nice as the one Shawn was in in that one episode of Psych - although I'm still holding out for Star Trek type medical developments, lol.
Wow, I'm rambling. This train is just going on and on today isn't it? No logical stops, sorry. I think the conductor is taking a nap.
My point is, my anxiety is high, my lupus is getting a little rowdy, my daughter is very sick, my son is moody, I'm turning 42 in a few days and like most years the day will pass pretty much unnoticed even though I have this secret hope (okay, not secret now but who in Russia is going to tell?) that someone would one day make an actual big deal of my birthday. You know, cake, ice cream, a present, a hug (silly, I know). I've a few bills I can't pay this month and Christmas is nearly here. And then New Years, which always makes me sad anyway and people will insist on singing Auld Lang Syne which ALWAYS makes me bawl like a baby. Doesn't anyone else realize that song is SAD? How the heck did it become the song we sing to bring in a hopeful new year???
Wow, rambling again. Okay, to a point. Well . . . I don't have a point. I'm writing till the Goody's Headache Powder kicks in and my head hurts a little less. Okay, point. Hmmm. Well, I guess in the end my point is that God is here. Even though my life has gotten very small, even though I'm tired, sad, anxious, hurting physically and emotionally, even though it seems I've been forgotten, God really is still here. The other day when something terrible happened and I was crying a lovely friend told me that no matter what, God loves me. Even if my circle is so small it becomes a black hole, and I fade away, God still loves me. Even if another year passes and no one notices. Even if someone does something terrible to me and no one stands up for me and says "Hey, you can't hurt my friend like that!" Even if my son is almost out of his boyhood and I rarely catch those little glimpses of my baby anymore. Even if my daughter has only a little while left with us. Even if . . . oh, a lot of things. Sometimes, we need to come to the understanding that if all we have is the love of God, we have enough. If we have the love of God, we have a cup that is overflowing. So I'll stop my silly rambling and leave you with this:

Romans 8:39 . . . neither height, nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.

And just how much love is that?

Ephesians 3:18 . . . may have power, together will all the saints, to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ. 

Rumbling Along The Tracks Through The Empty Wastelands

Last night something awful happened to me. It was so unexpected, so shocking, I've been so stunned, so hurt. As a little girl, and then as a wife, fear was a daily companion. I learned to read all the signs, to see what mood my stepmother, and later my husband, was in. Their anger would . . . shrink me. I would grow still inside, smaller, I suppose I was trying to fade away. I've been feeling that since last night, that stillness. I feel like I've been scooped out and left empty, I can't even seem to hold a thought in my head for long, I find myself drifting off.
I walked to the grocery store today. I had a perfectly lovely offer of a ride but after the terrible things that were said to me, I felt uncomfortable allowing someone to do me such a favor, no matter how sincere their offer. So I made the five mile round trip in the heat, honestly with nothing in my head for the entire walk there, just scooped out and empty, like I said. Still inside, and broken. The walk back was a bit harder, I had three cases of bottled water (the water here is awful and stuff is floating in it) in my little "little old lady cart" and the weight was hard to push. At one point I paused and looked up at the sky that was partly cloudy and saw a darker cloud in the distance with such a lovely rainbow. I thanked God for such an unexpected moment of joy and moved on. A little while later, I had to pause again. And there it was, moving along with me, that dark cloud with a lovely rainbow. As I walked for several minutes it seemed to keep pace with me and I began to feel hope. Hope that God loves me, that things will be okay. Then . . . it rained on me. Talk about mixed signals. I tried to cover things that needed covering in my little cart and by the time I was finished with that the rain had already stopped. I kept moving forward but soon hit a hole in the sidewalk and, because of the weight of the water, one of the front tires broke. I tried to fix it but it was no use. I was still nearly two miles from home. The only thing to do was to turn it around behind me, tilt it on the back wheels and pull. There were several times I didn't think I'd make it home, and the arthritis in my hands and hip was just screaming at me. By the strength of God and nothing more I got home.
I still have that scooped out and empty feeling, and all I want to do right now is push everyone away, keep them away, so that I won't get hurt anymore. For a few hours, I was even pushing God away. But by the time I had showered, given Bee her breathing treatment, made dinner for Noah and finally got a chance to sit and read my bible, I realized that God loves me, period. He loves everyone, no matter what we do, no matter who we are. And considering the fact that my life is so small I should cling to that love as it is the only sure love and acceptance I can depend on.
So as I was reading my bible I realized that I needed to just let go what happened, the terrible and hurtful things that were said, and to fill that emptiness with as much love as I can. That was when I ran across a passage in my bible that I have highlighted, and read often:

Colossians 3:12-17 Therefore, as God's chosen people, holy and dearly loved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience. Bear with each other and forgive whatever grievances you may have against one another. Forgive as the Lord forgave you. And over all of these virtues put on love, which binds them all together in perfect unity. Let the peace of Christ rule in your hearts, since as members of one body you were called to peace. And be thankful. Let the word of Christ dwell in you richly as you teach and admonish one another with all wisdom, and as you sing psalms, hymns and spiritual songs with gratitude in your hearts to God. And whatever you do, whether in word or deed, do it all in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father through him.

I suppose I don't have a point to this post, I just felt like getting it all out. Scooping out any bitterness, hurt and anger that was filling up the empty space so that I can fill it with love, forgiveness, kindness and thanksgiving. And so, tonight (Xanax already taken, anxiety slightly at bay for a few hours) I will try to fall asleep with only good thoughts, with gratitude for my blessings, and perhaps with a small bit of hope at the bottom of all of that emptiness. For anybody that might ever read this - and according to my stats so far that is one American and three or four Russians for some crazy reason - I wish you a peaceful night tonight and a heart that is full of joy and hope. I know hope can be scary, but grab on with both hands tightly anyway.

Little Moments of Joy

Last year I purchased a calendar at the Dollar Tree. The title was "Country Living" and every single month was a treat. I put it on the wall in front of the little folding table I use as a desk and have found myself staring at it a lot, daydreaming. There are two sides to me, the woman that wants to own a little Victorian cottage in town within walking distance to my two bookstores (Yes, two. One big, magical one for kids and another that's like an old fashioned study for mystery books). I love the fantasy of that little life, how I'd wear a costume every day for work - costume depending upon which store I was at that day. Walking to a little cafe for lunch, the kids and I taking a walk after dinner to the local ice cream parlor. Tree lined neighborhood that I usually imagine in full autumn bloom or blanketed with winter snow. There is this other side of me, though, that longs to return to the farm life. I grew up on a farm, we were very poor. We grew everything we ate and I'll tell you I cried through many of my dinners as I knew I was eating a friend. And I never learned because, as a lonely child, I looked for friends everywhere and that included the chickens and cows. My farm would have four seasons and lots of activities for the community. Flowers, vegetables, fruits, a pumpkin patch, Christmas trees, making our own soaps, candles, cheeses, jams and jellies, all the stuff I did as a kid (though we just had a little farm and grew only enough for our large family, nothing commercial). This calendar brought all those dreams back to me. Each month I'd stare at the picture and daydream. When I'd say my prayers at night I'd wish that life could be, for everyone, as simple, charming and carefree as it was for the people in the pictures. I got a great deal of joy out of that dollar calendar.
Since crazy has set up shop in my brain, I've found myself afraid of joy, even little moments. They make the bad days so much harder because for a little while I felt almost normal. I suppose that sounds silly, I suppose, as we should be on the lookout for joyful moments and savor them. And though I fight them, I've had a few things that have made me smile, given me a few moments of peace. For example, old episodes of Newhart. I'm not big on celebrities but I think I'd babble like an idiot if I ever got the chance to meet Bob Newhart. He's gotten me through some dark moments lately. Reruns of The Facts of Life, Golden Girls, Designing Women, Scooby Doo (yeah yeah, but it makes me laugh so what the heck). I never used to be a tv watcher, I'd rather read. And there have been a few books that have given me some laughs, a few moments of joy and peace. Thornyhold by Mary Stewart - this is my "security blanket" book. The Cobbs Landing cozy series by Kate Borden. The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society by  Mary Anne Shaffer - I cried a bit, too, but it was a heartwarming book. The Bucolic Plague by Josh Kilmer-Purcell had me laughing so hard. I read The Sugar Queen by Sarah Addison Allen half a dozen times, it just was such a feel good book. The daily devotions on the InTouch Ministries website. My son found me crying one day and gave me a hug and hugs from moody 16 year old boys are hard to come by. I held on so tight and it was such a balm. Sometimes Bee will wake herself up because she laughs so hard in her sleep and that is a joy to watch. My son played two board games with me a few nights ago and I savored every single moment. That first sip of tea in the morning. A couple of evenings lately that were so chilly it almost felt like autumn - which my soul misses so much. Mickey's Christmas Carol (my favorite version, don't judge). Listening to my son laugh in his room, talking to a friend on Skype. The ducks on the pond when I walk to the doctor. A tiny little bird I saw today on the walk back home, that took tiny little hops and could have fit in the palm of my hand with plenty of room leftover. There was something magical about that little bird and I found myself smiling as I stopped to watch it. I was too tired to walk all the way to the pharmacy and when I called to tell them I'd have to pick up my antibiotic on Monday they insisted on dropping it off (they are lovely at that pharmacy, I'm telling you). I waited outside as twilight swept through the sky and the first star came out. I haven't wished on the first star of evening in a long time and there it was, just waiting for my wish. A short video of a tree, in full autumn dress, with a musical breeze playing through the leaves that was so healing. My friend that prays for my refrigerator because that darn thing breaking down is one of the illogical focuses of my crazy.
Little moments of joy. They are all around us, everywhere. You don't even have to look for them, they find you. Even when you've taken up residence on crazy island, they still find you. Pestering you like a little toddler that can't understand why you shut the bathroom door and would like to pee in peace for ten seconds, those little fingers reaching under the door, wiggling around, searching for you.
When one of those moments find me, I realize that God wants us to be happy. I see a lot of sour Christians (my mother can be one of them). They live their lives by "Don't". But look around, God put so many extraordinary things in our lives, from the tiny little wren to the first twinkling star to the velvety petals of a flower, He clearly wants us to embrace joy. To laugh, to dance, to look around at this extraordinary world and see all the little touches He added just to make us smile.
In the movie Pollyanna she tells the Reverend that there are 800 "glad texts" in the bible, and that if God went to that much trouble to tell us to be happy, we ought to be. Now, deep in the land of crazy and anxiety, happy can be elusive but, as I said, it finds you in little moments you don't expect. It isn't a decision, it is a charm, a blessing, a surprise around the corner. And maybe I'm crazy (ha ha) but I think God set it up to be like that. For "normal" people that don't struggle with mental health issues, happiness really is a choice. But for some of us, no matter how much you stand up, wave your arms in the air and scream "Me! Me!" happiness seems elusive - but not completely lost. Like I said, I think God set up those little moments of joy just for us, to remind us that there is so much more, that we will be okay, that there is a light at the end of the tunnel, just give it a little time.
Taking Pollyanna up on her boast, I decided to do a little search of the bible to find a few of those "glad texts".

Psalm 16:9 Therefore my heart is glad and my tongue rejoices; my body also will rest secure.

Psalm 90:14 Satisfy us in the morning with your unfailing love, that we may sing for joy and be glad all our days.

Psalm 4:7 You have filled my heart with greater joy than when their grain and new wine abound.

1 Chronicles 16:27 Strength and majesty are before him; strength and joy are in his dwelling place.

1 Thessalonians 5:16 Be joyful always

Romans 15:13 May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit.

John 15:11 I have told you this so that my joy may be in you and that your joy may be complete.

There are a lot more, obviously, but I think the point is clear - God wants us to be happy so much so that He pointed it out a lot and He plants little moments of joy in our lives in unexpected places. So even if you are drowning sometimes, even if there is anxiety and depression slithering around in your brain just waiting to strike, there is still joy. Remember that. Allow that. And thank God for them, because basically they are God saying "Hey, I see you. I hear you. You matter. YOU MATTER."

God Loves You . . . Do you?

Today's post will be short - a change from my usual rambles. My neighbor is a lovely, hardworking divorced mother of two. Her children are kind, polite, and her eldest has a part time job in addition to completing his final year of high school. Her youngest makes a special effort to check up on our elderly neighbor and always has a sunny smile for everyone. Although I tend to keep to myself I have spoken with her on a number of occasions and like her very much. She is, like most of us struggling financially, utterly and completely weary. You can see it in her eyes, the distant idea that life was supposed to turn out differently. She has given me a ride to the store several times, and I can see that she offers kindness to anyone that needs it.
About a week ago she put a Christmas wreath on her door. I thought it was a lovely wreath, very festive, and reminded me that I needed to do the same. I couldn't afford to purchase one so I made a wreath from scraps of garland, tinsel and ornaments and hung it up. Standing outside I looked at mine, and then hers and had the thought that anyone looking at the two would clearly think mine looked terrible and clearly hand made and cheap. I wanted to take it down but didn't - after all, it was all I could afford and I'd done my best. It was made with hope, anyway, and that would have to be enough.
A few days later we had to call an ambulance for our elderly neighbor (that will go in another post as it, and another incident, clearly demonstrated to me that God had great timing). After the ambulance had taken her away we spoke for several minutes and she brought up our wreaths. She told me that after I put mine up she felt embarrassed to have hers up, she thought mine was so much nicer. I stared at her in astonishment for a moment and then I laughed till I cried while she looked at me a little worriedly.
Do you see what we do to ourselves??? WHY are we so hard on ourselves? Why can't we love ourselves? Why must we measure ourselves against others? Against our long ago dreams? We measure ourselves with faulty rulers, I assure you. The only measurement should be the love of God and I can promise you have it, fully and completely.

Psalm 139:14 I will give thanks to you because I have been so miraculously and amazingly made. You're works are miraculous and my soul is fully aware of this.

Psalm 136:26 Give thanks to the God of heaven, for his steadfast love lasts forever.

Humility - But It's Not What You Think.

     I didn't grow up with my mother. I have a few memories of her, but my parents divorced and my father took my brothers and I when I was four or five. The few memories I have of her are not great. My mother had mental health issues. I didn't understand how much she must have suffered and struggled until recently. I went to live with her briefly as a teenager but moved into my own apartment fairly quickly. My mother, because of her overwhelming guilt about the kind of mother she was - or wasn't - is very emotionally needy. I left my husband once, when my kids were very little, and she let us live with her for a very, very long six month (Yes, I went back to him. Yes, it was stupid.) We have maintained a phone relationship and I have always hoped that someday we might live closer so that we can develop a deeper relationship. I've really always wanted a mother, the kind that fit in with all of those daydreams as a child. As an adult I realize that is unrealistic and I'd just like to be friends, at least. We hadn't seen each other in ten years when she came down for a visit this summer. Time rushes past us and sometimes it passes like a whirling dervish. What I didn't expect when I opened the door was a little old lady in sensible shoes and clutching a little old lady handbag. We spent time talking, she got a chance to get to know my son. She had budgeted her money carefully for the trip with the intention of purchasing dinner for each of her children. Noah loves pizza so she insisted that we order pizza, her treat. After I ordered the pizza I told her how much it would be and she reached into her purse to pull out her change purse. It was . . . a shock . . . to see my little old lady of a mother hunched over her little change purse counting out change to give us this treat. She was so pleased to do it and she was smiling as she counted out her bills and coins. I don't know why the moment was such a moving experience for me, but I wanted to cry. For her, for the past, for everyone whose life is changed by mental illness and shoulder losses the rest of us cannot comprehend. For all the guilt she carries, for the belief - no matter what I say - that I resent her for the things that happened when I was a child. But I don't, I never did. I always knew that parents were just people with baggage doing the best they could. My mom just did the best she could. I've learned lately that sometimes just surviving the day, the night, and not succumbing to that seductive voice in the darkness that tells you to just let go is a monumental act of strength. I guess in that moment I saw my mother very clearly, as a little old lady clutching desperately the broken pieces of her soul, as a weary woman with a lot of tattered dreams she takes out sometimes and sighs over with longing and tears. As she was leaving she had trouble putting her shoes on. I got down on my knees and helped her. It was one of the most profound moments of my life, kneeling before my mother and putting her shoes on her feet. Although I'm used to caretaking (Bee will be 21 soon and I do everything from changing her diaper to reading to her) this was a different experience. It was humbling, a lesson in humility I never expected. I was so grateful for every single second on my knees helping my mother with her shoes.
     I think about that moment often. It was, perhaps, the most intimate experience I've ever had with my mother, with anyone. And for the second time in my life I found that a word I thought I understood was completely redefined: humility. When most people think of that word they associate it with humiliation but I'm not talking about the time I got up to sing in front of my entire junior high school in a white dress having finally, unbeknownst to me, gotten a visit from my "friend". Or singing at the county fair with a friend and from the second I got up on that stage I stood frozen and uttered not a sound, moved not an inch, just stood there like a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming semi filled with laughing people. Or even the time my then five year old son mispronounced the word crocheting (think about it) in front of a group of little old ladies from a church group. Or, most humiliating of all, the time I stood like an "X" in front of the men's room door at the bookstore the first time my son used a public bathroom all by himself and, with my back to the door, called over my shoulder to the person I thought was my son opening the door "Wow, that took a while, did you need to poop?" and it turned out to be the most gorgeous man on the entire planet rather than my little son.
     I'm talking about something else. The dictionary defines the word humility as having a modest or low opinion of oneself. But the bible gives us a different definition. In fact, Jesus gives us an amazing example of humility in John 13: 3 - 17:

Jesus knew that the Father had put all things under his power, and that he had come from God and was returning to God; so he got up from the meal, took off his outer clothing, and wrapped a towel around his waist. After that, he poured water into a basin to wash his disciples' feet, drying them with the towel that was wrapped around him. He came to Simon Peter, who said to him, "Lord, are you going to wash my feet?" 

Jesus replied, "You do not realize now what I am doing, but later you will understand." 

"No," said Peter, "you shall never wash my feet." 

Jesus answered, "Unless I wash you, you have no part with me." 

"Then, Lord," Simon Peter replied, "not just my feet but my hands and head as well!"

Jesus answered, "A person who has had a bath needs only to wash his feet; his whole body is clean. And you are clean, though not every one of you." For he knew who was going to betray him, and that was why he said not everyone was clean. When he finished washing their feet, he put on his clothes and returned to his place. "Do you understand what I have done for you?" he asked them. "You call me 'Teacher' and 'Lord', and rightly so, for that is what I am. Now that I, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also should wash one another's feet. I have set you an example that you should do as I have done for you. I tell you the truth, no servant is greater than his master, nor is a messenger greater than the one who sent him. Now that you know these things, you will be blessed if you do them."

     Jesus wasn't humiliated to get down on his hands and knees and wash the feet of others. It wasn't a humiliating experience, but one of love and giving, and a teaching moment for not just the disciples, but for all of us. Humility is not about having a low opinion of yourself, or doing something demeaning. Humility is about giving of yourself without a single thought of what you'll get out of it. It is true charity wrapped in absolute love and kindness, without selfishness or judgement.
     We are getting very close to Christmas and, as Dickens noted in A Christmas Carol, this is a time people feel a little more kindness toward one another:

". . . the only time I know of in the long calendar of the year, when men and women seem by one consent to open their shut-up hearts freely, and to think of people below them as if they really were fellow-passengers to the grave, and not another race of creatures bound on other journeys."

     As I've grown older I've come to realize that Christmas is about humility. Not presents, not decorations, not shopping and sales. Those things are nice. But those things aren't what Christmas is all about. Christmas is about following the example of Christ with humility and extending that attitude to each day of the year. Because, to quote Dickens and A Christmas Carol again "Mankind was my business! The common welfare was my business; charity, mercy, forbearance, and benevolence, were all my business. The dealings of my trade were but a drop of water in the comprehensive ocean of my business!"

     When I was a kid the expression "Jesus is the reason for the season" was very popular. There were bookmarks, magnets, pins, buttons, shirts, posters, stickers, it was everywhere. And although it eventually grew a bit stale from overuse it was then, nevertheless, and continues to be, true.

Matthew 20:28 . . . just as the Son of Man did not come to be served, but to serve . . .