Guarding You in All Your Ways

To say I was proud would be an understatement. The Science Olympiad team did so well yesterday, with 15 out of 16 of our kids medalling, and none in the bottom half of any event in a very competitive district. My kids medaled in both their events, though we know they can do even better. And so the team moves on to states and we get 7 more weeks to build helicopters and fling objects with our trebuchet and record time-staking, detailed, grueling, tedious data collection. Yippee!

And while the day was wonderful, and exhausting, and fun...the story of a helium balloon one of the team moms told me was the memory that most firmly planted itself in my skull. She was telling me about a friend of hers, a woman I had known from years ago when my son Matt used to belong to the Debate club. The woman was diagnosed with severe and horribly advanced cervical cancer. She fought for her life through a horrendous treatment, and then was rushed to the hospital as the end clearly neared. Her vital signs were all slipping dangerously low. Her son in the military was routed from his submarine to call and speak one last time to his dying mother. Her friends were called to be told she was probably not going to last the night. The family was told to decide whether to put her on life maintaining machines, or just let her slip away. A friend had sent a helium balloon with a verse on it to the hospital room a few days before the saga was drawing to this tragic close. As the family conferred with the doctor, the old balloon had slowly drifted downward, now almost scraping the floor.

My friend told me one of the young people who had been coached in Debate by this woman said, "No, she isn't going to die. God will heal her."

"Put her on life support," the family decided.
At the moment of that decision, the husband noticed the balloon slowly begin to rise. Over the next few critical moments, her vital signs returned to normal. The balloon rose until it hovered over her, string taut. Now, 3 months later, she is cancer-free. All traces of it gone.

"And I visited her just last week," the woman told me, "I had heard the story of the balloon. Do you know...I saw it....it is still high in the air, string taut, all these months later! The balloon is all shriveled and small...but it is still rising."
"What was the verse on it?" I asked.
"For he will command his angels concerning you
to guard you in all your ways," she said.

Psalm 121:5-8
The Lord watches over you—
the Lord is your shade at your right hand; the sun will not harm you by day,
nor the moon by night. The Lord will keep you from all harm—
he will watch over your life; the Lord will watch over your coming and going
both now and forevermore.



-save a dog- hollowcreekfarm.org

Waiting Round the Bend

     I wasn't sure what I would find as I entered the nursing home to  look for my old friends. Comer had been sick, and Evelyn had fallen and been in bed for much of the past two weeks. Comer had not sounded confident that we would be able to get Evelyn safely to the car.

     "Then we will use a wheelchair if needed, Comer. It would do her good to get out."

     "That it would," he agreed, "She is not doing well. Never says a word....sometimes mumbles but not so anyone can tell what she is saying. How will we get her in the car?"

      That was saddening- the Alzheimers seemed to be winning the battle lately.

     "I am an occupational therapist," I said, "I know how to help her."

     "Well ok, darlin, then see you then."

     But as I entered the Home, they both sat in the entry way as usual, Evelyn looking more chipper than usual. Her back was ramrod straight and her hand clasped Comer's. They both stared straight ahead, and I suspected that they had been there a while, though I was a few minutes early.

     "Hello!" said Evelyn, with a huge smile. She was thickly swathed in two heavy sweaters.

     "Good thing you're bundled up...it is frigid out there!"

     "Yes," she said, nodding, with sparkling eyes.

      "Shall we go get roast beef? I know that's your favorite Comer."

      "That would be grand," he said.

     I took Evelyn's arm, expecting a struggle with a shuffling sack of potatoes after Comer's description, but she was fine. She was a little slow getting in the car, but after a few slow shifts of her hips, she was in and comfortable.

     "Hey Comer, my book went to number one."

     "You are kidding me! That's fantastic."

     "Yep, in the dog training category on Amazon. You have a famous author taking you to lunch."

     Evelyn laughed.

     "I know Evelyn," I said, " A little exaggeration...But I wrote a second book too. It is ready to be published."

     I had had the music on as always, with songs from the 40s and 50s, their era. Evelyn sang along to many, and Comer smiled watching her.

Then Moon River came on. I cranked it up.

     "You know this one for sure, Evelyn!" I said. I was stopped at a corner so I sat there as the song blasted from the CD player. Evelyn reached her hands up, mimicking mine as we gestured dramatically in time with the words. Her voice was clear, and strong.

      Moon River, wider than a mile

      I'm crossing you in style one day

      We're after the same rainbow's end

      Waiting round the bend

      My huckleberry friend

      Moon River and Me.

The song ended and Comer gazed at his smiling wife as she sighed with contentment.

     "She's having a good day," he said, "What's your second book about?"

      "Miracles."

You shall rise up before the grayheaded and honor the aged. Leviticus 19:32

Wow

I read that Steve Jobs, in his last moments before dying, while surrounded by his family, was looking just beyond them with a rapturous look on his face. His last words were, "OH WOW! OH WOW! OH WOW!"

I know very little about Steve Jobs. I don't know where he centered spiritually. But that response to something no one else in the room apparently saw reminds me of Anders as a very young boy once looking around him in wonder and telling me, "Mommy I see angels." His eyes were bright and sparkling, and he was looking delightedly in the air above him.

I love this season that celebrates miracles with Hanukkah, and the birth of God's son with Christmas. God is a God of Wonder, and there is so much wonder in the trappings and beauty of the Christmas celebration. I saw the dogs sitting before the Christmas tree just gazing at it, and I could almost see them discussing what it meant to bring a tree inside a house.

"I don't know, Lucky, it makes no sense."
"Humans don't make sense, Honeybun. Sometimes we just have to accept on faith that they know what they are doing."
"But at times they seem so rational. They seem to know we need food, exercise,and finally even rescinded that ridiculous rule that we couldn't sleep on the couches," said Honeybun, "And then...this." She shook her head sadly, looking at the tree.
"That's true, but then how can anyone explain those parts of their being we don't understand....like how could anyone kiss a nose that doesn't lick it's own butt?" asked Lucky, while noisily doing just that.
"I know....that is inexplicable. Or why they don't roll in dead animals and even worse, prevent us from doing so?"
"I guess there are just some things that we can never hope to comprehend, and must just make that leap of faith that our Master, while being incomprehensible, is Good," Lucky answered, with a philosophic tilt to his ears.
"What do you think is the good behind bringing a tree meant to live outdoors inside? And then covering it with lights, putting that angel on top there, and then plugging it in...a definite fire hazard?" Honeybun puzzled.
"Maybe  bringing it to a completely unexpected place, seemingly irrational, and so far from what one envisions a tree to be, makes us look at it in a new way. I know it does for me."
"How so, Lucky?"
"It just makes me want to say, oh wow...bow wow wow WoW!"

My beloved boys and delightful new daughter in law, dear daughter, and loving husband are all with me this Christmas. I am surrounded by miracles. This morning,I remembered  a favorite verse that has little to do with Christmas, but every thing to do with contentment in what God has provided, "The boundary lines have fallen for me in pleasant places."

"Listen to her," said Honeybun cocking an ear, "She's not so incomprehensible after all."
Lucky opened an eye, "Why? What did she say?"
"She said ,'Wow, bow wow wow wow!"


Psalm 16: 5-7
⁵ LORD, you alone are my portion and my cup;
   you make my lot secure.
⁶ The boundary lines have fallen for me in pleasant places;
   surely I have a delightful inheritance.
⁷ I will praise the LORD, who counsels me;
   even at night my heart instructs me.

How could anyone not believe....

Amy didn’t want friends to call, or email, or text. She wanted a weekend to just rest, try to calm her overactive pancreas, and rein in her depression. Two severe bouts of pancreatitis had transpired in less than three years. One major and several small bouts had occurred over the past year, leaving the doctors befuddled and Amy frightened, and weary. There did not appear to be an obvious cause. Yet, the horrifying effects of the last two severe bouts had landed her for over a week each time in the hospital, with no food or water allowed, to try to let the flaring pancreas heal. She almost died, and was brought back by a powerful chemical stimulant.

             Then the devastating news. Two thirds of her pancreas was dead or dying. I was with her when the doctor did further tests and confirmed his initial impression.

            “Two thirds of it is dead, essentially?” she asked him.

            “Yes,” he said.

            A person cannot live without a pancreas. There is no artificial pancreas, and no substitute for a pancreas. Without a pancreas, you die. It was clear that the past two severe episodes had each destroyed a third of Amy’s pancreas. The unspoken fear was one more episode would be the last one she could endure.

            Amy enrolled in a research study, in the hopes that other rare patients of pancreatitis of unknown origin might be helped. The study gathered information about this unique population, of which Amy was an unwilling member. If enough puzzle pieces fell in place, perhaps one day, a cause would be found.

            Amy had another few minor bouts of pancreatitis and the doctor decided to do a test where they would examine the pancreas by inserting a tube down her throat. The procedure was not without risk, which is why they had waited. The test itself could set off pancreatitis. But Amy had run out of options.

            I spent almost as many sleepless nights as Amy, praying to God. Amy is an enormously special person. I know everyone’s sister is enormously special, but I couldn’t think of any sister but my dear one in such need. When Amy was growing up, she was a pain in the rear. She carried grudges, she complained, she argued, and she was discontented. She drove my family nuts…but she was my beloved little sister. And when she had nightmares, and came into my room frightened, I always let her crawl into bed with me. I loved Amy, despite all her faults.

            And then she grew up. She became an interpreter for the deaf. She sent all the nieces and nephews gifts whenever she saw something they might like. She traveled to see all of us several times a year, despite having little money to do so. Family was all important, much more important than money. She cried whenever she left to return to her home. She never tired of helping friends in need, showering them with time, money, her impossibly creative crafts. In the past year, she took up water color painting and excelled in it. She sent all of us hand painted cards. Amy became in her husband’s words- “The finest person I know.” I agreed.  No one could have predicted that outcome based on her childhood.

            So I prayed in a way I had never prayed before. I asked God for a specific miracle. I prayed constantly and fervently, night after night.

            “I know this is often not the way you work,” I told God, “But I don’t think I can do without Amy…the world cannot do without Amy. I pray, dear Father, that you will restore her pancreas. All of it. Return life to the two thirds of it that are dead. And may you be given all the glory.” I knew this was a prayer that is not often answered, not in the way the distraught petitioner hopes.

            The procedure found the first semblance of an answer. Amy had a congenital defect of the pancreas.  In Pancreas Divisum, the duct that empties the waste from the pancreas fails to join in utero, as it should, and is divided into two ducts. In some unfortunate cases, the narrower ducts become blocked, backflow, and often cysts form, as well as the life threatening and excruciating pain of pancreatitis. All those awful things had happened to Amy. Doctors don't all agree that this defect causes pancreatitis, since many people have it with no symptoms whatsoever. 
           During the procedure to fix the defect, the doctor placed a stent in the narrow duct and repaired a hole in the pancreas. He left Amy's large cyst alone, as cyst drainage can introduce infection, another dangerous procedure. He hoped the cyst would drain on its own.

            Amy thought her troubles were over. The doctor said that in most cases, prognosis was good with the surgery he had performed. Yet after the surgery, Amy never returned to feeling normal, and continued to have small bouts of pancreatitis. She fasted often to decrease the strain on her pancreas, and grew despondent. We all knew she was one bad attack away from very severe consequences.

            “Please Father,” I prayed, “I know you know best. But I beg you, please heal Amy completely…completely. Restore her pancreas to full function. All of it. All three thirds of it. It’s Amy we are talking about.”

            “How are you?” I wrote to her in an email.

            “Squiggly,” she answered, “And very tender where my pancreas is.”
            “Have you told the doctor?”
            “Sort of… they do more tests next week.”
            “Hound the doctor!” I begged.

            She hounded the doctor. He told her to wait for the tests.

            “Please Lord,” I prayed, “Make her pancreas whole. Bring it back, restore it to full function.”

I told Amy I was praying for complete healing, a pancreas fully alive and healthy. The week dragged on, but Amy said she was feeling normal finally, at least for that brief time.

            There was a message yesterday on my phone that Amy had called. I knew her test was this week, but I had forgotten the day. I called her back.

            “I am on my way from the doctor’s ,” she told me.

            “Oh! The tests were today! What did they find? Is the cyst draining?”
            “The cyst is draining. But listen to this. Remember the middle third of the pancreas that was, as the doctor put it, dead as a doornail?”
            “Yes.” How could I forget?

            “It is alive. And remember the back section that couldn’t communicate with the front section because the middle was dead, and the back third was dying?”
            “Yes!”
            “It is healing. They don’t know why, they don’t know how, but my pancreas is alive. All of it.”

            I jumped up out of my seat and Asherel raised an eyebrow as I danced around the room, waving my arms in the air. I shrieked and I think Amy might have a damaged ear drum after that resounding exclamation of pure and unbridled delight, praise, joy, gratitude….praise.

            “That is just what I prayed for!!!!!!”
            “I know, I told the doctor my sister would be happy to know that the miracle she had prayed for had been provided.”
            She had called me first. Not even her husband knew yet.

            “You didn’t call Jim!?” I asked.

            “No, if he was praying for a miracle, he never told me,” she said, “You told me. You are the only person I have called.”
            “Well I am sure he was praying. Call him now. This is maybe the most wonderful thing I have ever heard!”

            After dancing and hollering, while Asherel watched with a bemused look on her face, I could not stop smiling.  God knows how small my faith is, how tenuous my hope, how fragile my walk with Him. I don’t pray with assurance…I often pray with despair. Sometimes life seems so overwhelming that I don’t pray with words. I pray with groans, that slowly cascade into tears.  But how could I not believe?  How could anyone not believe?

Romans 8:25-27

New International Version (NIV)

²⁵ But if we hope for what we do not yet have, we wait for it patiently.

 ²⁶ In the same way, the Spirit helps us in our weakness. We do not know what we ought to pray for, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us through wordless groans. ²⁷ And he who searches our hearts knows the mind of the Spirit, because the Spirit intercedes for God’s people in accordance with the will of God.

           

Three eyelids

"Oh look, there's the camel," I pointed as we drove a new friend to kayak with us.
"What?" Emma swirled her head around and stared, "Oh my! It is a camel! I haven't seen a camel since I was about 5 years old!"

I pulled over so we could walk up close to the camel. Even I have not seen a camel this close before. They have some of the most unusual mouths I have ever seen. The upper lip is cleft, and both lips are loose, like big flapping pancakes. The lower teeth point almost horizontally forward. When it chews, it does so with a circular motion, lips flapping open with every bite. The sign said, "May bite. Don't feed."
"What would you feed a camel anyway?" asked Emma.
"Sand," said Asherel.

We watched the camel eating not sand, but hay, our mutual gazes transfixed. It did not seem possible that those strange front teeth could chew anything but it seemed to be consuming the hay somehow. It had thin slitty nostrils which sparked a memory in my store of animal facts.
"Did you know they can shut their nostrils? " I asked.
"I didn't know that," said Emma politely.
"Yes, that's to keep the sand out in a sandstorm."
Asherel added, "They have three sets of eyelids. One set is clear so they can close them during sandstorms and still see."
"And did you know camels are natural pacers?" I asked, drawing on my recent knowledge gleaned after our Tioga Race Track experience and having researched if pacing was a natural gait for a horse.

"I rode a camel once," said Asherel.
"You rode an elephant....are you sure you rode a camel?"
"I think I did."
"How would you ride a one hump camel?" I asked, as we watched our one hump friend chewing, it's 3 eyelids currently  half closed, "I don't think you could ride on top of the hump. I think the hump changes size. I think it is where water is stored. I might be lying about that...but I think that is correct."
"But that's where the people ride in cartoons," said Asherel.
"Yes but people fall off cliffs and bounce in cartoons too," I said.
We watched the camel a few more minutes and then headed on to other adventures.

When I got home, I googled "Do Camel's store water in their humps?" I discovered that of the top ten animal myths, this one is number 3. Camels excel at retaining water in their kidneys and intestines, but the hump is just a mound of fat. However, if the camel comes across a journey where there is nothing to eat, he can live 3 weeks off of his hump. Of course, having enhanced my wealth of animal knowledge that far, I had to find out what was myth number one?

Animal Myth #1: Lemmings do not commit suicide by jumping off cliffs en masse. They do migrate in large numbers and their migrations do sometimes include jumping off cliffs and swimming, which they sometimes do to the point of exhaustion and then drown. They do not jump off the cliff in hopes of drowning, however. Intent makes all the difference.

"Why is the camel here?" asked Emma.
"It is part of a Christian theater group that does live nativities," I said. We glanced back at the donkey housed with the camel that undoubtedly was used to carry Mary to Bethlehem.

You just never know what you might see if you keep all your eyelids open, what wealth of interesting facts await your discovery. I have never ever understood boredom. Even flat on your back with no physical strength left, you have your thoughts.... and thoughts are miraculous in and of themselves. I can spend hours just circling around the phrase, "I think, therefore I am." I mean, how do you know you are thinking in the first place? And how do you know that thinking can be equated with reality? How do you know that you know? Etc....

At any rate, I think sometimes God throws in the unusual, the miraculous to jar us out of complacency. The more I examine the things I pass by every day, the more I am awash in wonder. How do three sets of eyelids evolve by accident? Personally, I think it is good we humans only have one set of eyelids. I think too often we are looking around with our eyes wide open and still missing what God is hoping we will see.

2 Kings 6:16-18 (New International Version)

 ¹⁶ “Don’t be afraid,” the prophet answered. “Those who are with us are more than those who are with them.”
 ¹⁷ And Elisha prayed, “Open his eyes, LORD, so that he may see.” Then the LORD opened the servant’s eyes, and he looked and saw the hills full of horses and chariots of fire all around Elisha.

Sometimes God brings Robins

"Where is she?" we asked, looking around the Alzheimer's unit. Usually we saw Evelyn sitting in the chair against the wall, hands folded in her lap. At that moment, she came walking into the room, with a huge paper tiara on her head and the bold "Happy Birthday" glittered across the front.

She beamed, as usual upon seeing Comer and when I handed her the birthday banana bread I had made, she ripped it open and devoured a slice before we reached her room.

"I can only stay a little while today," I said, "I have to go pick up Asherel from her Spanish class."
I had dropped her, zipped up there to bring Comer to his birthday wife, and then had to dash back to get Asherel when the class ended. The neighbors were tag teaming like a well oiled heart, I pulsed him in, and Carolyn would pulse him out. The neighbor coming Monday, Kristin, would go on the shuttle with Comer that I had discovered was available to him. She would help him feel comfortable making the trek on his own, on the days we couldn't make it out there. He would never have to miss a day with Evelyn again, not while she was still here.

Evelyn and Comer settled in their side by side recliners ("so we can hold hands," he said) and I sat on the bed across from them as Evelyn opened the card I'd made.
"Did you draw that? " asked Comer.
"I made it on the computer." That launced a discussion of computers and somehow I mentioned my book I was writing.
"You wrote a book!" exclaimed Comer.
"I wrote two," I said, "One is the story of Honeybun, and one is a book about angels. It is about when I feel I have seen and touched the miracles of God.... and sometimes angels."
"Tell me one of your stories," said Comer.
"Would you like to hear one?" I asked Evelyn.
"I love stories," said Evelyn, "I would like to hear one."

So I told them the story of when God sent angels in the guise of  tow truck drivers one icy, deserted night after I crashed on black ice. I was not a believer yet, but the tow truck vanished, literally disappeared after the workers rescued me, pulled out my crumpled wheel wells,and sent me shakily on my way.... at no charge. I knew Comer and Evelyn probably thought I was the one who belonged in the Alzheimer unit after that story, but they had been entertained.

"That is an amazing story!" said Comer, "Do you have others?"
"Lots more!" I said, "Would you like to hear another?"
Comer and Evelyn sat side by side, like they were in a theater as I stood before them on my stage.
"Yes!" said Evelyn, "I love stories." She nodded her head and the paper birthday tiara swayed.

"This is my favorite one," I said, "It is about a robin. When Anders was just two years old and we were new believers in Jesus, I heard him one morning talking in his bedroom. I peeked around the corner "(here I pantomined tiptoing and sneaking around an imagined wall) "and I saw his two little feet poking out from under the curtain. He was looking out the window and talking to the robins. It was newly Spring in NY and when spring comes to NY, huge flocks of robins return. Anders was saying, ' I just want to hold you. I promise I won't hurt you.'  Then he heaved a huge sigh and he said, 'Dear Lord, please let me hold a robin. Amen.'
     Now I know this sounds like a big speech for a two year old but Anders was always precocious and spoke in full sentences at a very young age. Meanwhile, I stood in the hallway, tears trickling down my face wondering, 'Now what? My young boy's faith in God, so innocent and trusting is about to be shattered. What can I say to him? How can God bring him a robin to hold?' "

Evelyn nodded.

"So, I gathered him up and we headed off to my parents' lake house. I used to help them open it up in the spring after it had been locked and closed for the winter. No one else had been out there yet that year. We pulled up to the house, and I left Anders in his car seat with the car door open while I went to unlock the front door. I would air the house out and open the windows, and then get Anders. As I opened the front door, I heard a fluttering on the counter. I turned on the light. Do you know what I saw?"

"A robin!?" guessed Comer, his eyes wide.
"A robin!" I cried, tears again trickling to my eyes.
"Oh my!" smiled Evelyn.

"So I went over, and cupped my hands around the robin, and carried it out to Anders. I held out my hands and told him, 'Look Anders, God brought you a robin.'  Then I put the robin gently in Anders hands. Anders held the robin without saying a word. Then I told Anders it was likely the robin was hurt, because why else would he have let us pick him up without a struggle? So I took him carefully from Anders' hands and started to walk back to the porch. The robin flapped his wings, and soared away, to the tops of the budding trees."

Evelyn clapped with delight. Comer laughed. I wiped the tears of that impossible memory from my eyes.
Sometimes God brings struggle and hardship, pain and disease. We trust that in His wisdom, there is a purpose we don't understand, may never understand this side of Heaven. But sometimes He brings Robins.

Psalm 85:10-12

 ¹⁰ Love and faithfulness meet together;
   righteousness and peace kiss each other.
¹¹ Faithfulness springs forth from the earth,
   and righteousness looks down from heaven.
¹² The LORD will indeed give what is good,
   and our land will yield its harvest.

Back to Real Life

Christmas decorations create magic in the home with their flickering lights, beautiful angel wings flapping heaven's scent, and fake smell of pine in green and red candles.... until the day after Christmas. On the day after Christmas, they become a huge pile of clutter that SOMEONE now has to collect and put away. No longer do they beckon me to sit and contemplate whether Mary really understood the enormity of her responsibility. Now instead they taunt me to defy the law of physics and closet space and get them stored away for another year. Even when I feel healthy that is a task I abhor, but I am sick with a wretched cough that rips my chest cartilege with every racking explosion. So I wrestle with which bothers me more- the now antiquated Christmas clutter or the spasms of coughing that will undoubtedly erupt if I try to put them away today. My family is still fast asleep for hours so I have plenty of time to clean. Every year I want to just get a garbage can and toss everything in it so that I don't have to carefully wrap each precious glass ornament, and then lug the enormous bin of Christmas cheer up the steep pull-down attic steps.

But then, I remember what happens every year shortly after Thanksgiving when I first lug the enormous bin down the steep pull-down attic steps. As I unwrap each precious glass ornament, a flood of memories cascade down the rapids of my soul. These are the crystal icicles Mom put on the tree every year when she finally defied the kids' garish tastes and decided we would have an "elegant" tree. Funny how I love the elegant tree as well. I have a garish tree for the kids, and an elegant tree for me. And as I unwrap the homemade Angels and snowmen made by the children when they were young, I always get a lump in my throat wondering where those hectic joyful years went. I unwrap the hand painted ornaments that creative sister Amy made with special significance to each of us. And I unwrap the little creche I made, this year noticing that baby Jesus' arm was broken despite my care putting it away the year before.

That would be sad if my hope was in the permanence of the material drapings of our Christmas, but of course it is not. And this year, I have the beautiful new creche Asherel made and gave me as a gift. It is exquisite and much sturdier than the fragile one I made anyway.

So I will probably tackle the clutter after subduing my cough with caffeine and zinc cough drops. But I think I will leave the new little Mary, Joseph, and baby Jesus in a place of prominence. First of all, it was made with the hands of love of a child that sought to know her mother's heart, and that will sustain me through many a heart-break in the new year. But also, I think it may help me to glance over at it each day, to see the hope and love on the face of a slightly bewildered Mary, the protection and determination of faithful Joseph, and the innocence and miracle of a baby that seems so vulnerable and yet carries the weight of the world on his little shoulders. That baby will remind me that even when I feel my weakest, when the inevitable disappointments threaten to tumult to despair, when there really seems no possible happy ending..... then I will look at the baby and remember that God's greatest miracle started off in diapers.