Tuesday, October 18, 2005
Elsie
My niece, Elsie, gets cuter everyday. She’s gotten used to the fact that I generally carry candy in my pockets, on the off chance that I’ll meet up with the kids. Today, when I stopped by the town library, I was on my way into work so didn’t have any candy in my pockets. Elsie & her mum were at the library and she was too polite to ask me if I had any candy on me. When the librarian asked her if she liked her “Auntie Debbie”, I jokingly said, “Well, she likes the fact that I usually have candy in my pockets!” Elsie decided she had to check this out for herself, and came to give me a hug. I burst out laughing when the hug actually turned out to be a pat down of my pockets! What a scalawag she is!
Old Friends
Came across a dear friend, from years ago, on the web today, someone who was really special to me when I was a young woman. Her name is Ruth Ann and I used to baby-sit her kids when they were small (they lived in the house directly behind ours, so I could just go through the back fence). Ruth Ann was special because she was always kind to me and was a safe shoulder to cry on when I was confused and upset (as most teenagers are). Ruth Ann was probably my closest friend at that time in my life. She had two lovely boys, as well, and I really enjoyed spending time with them.
I've not heard from Ruth Ann in years. I am and always have been a poor correspondence, so when she wrote to me several years ago, I never got back to her, to my shame. I heard from mutual friends that she'd been inquiring about me, but didn't really have any way of reaching her until now. I am really excited about the possibility of seeing her again, sometime soon. She has been in my thoughts and prayers for a long time... One of the great things about finding her photo on the web was seeing her wonderful smile again; the kind of smile which made you grin when you saw it. She has this gorgeous, infectious laugh, as well. Seeing the picture brought all of this back and made me realize how much I've missed her.
I've not heard from Ruth Ann in years. I am and always have been a poor correspondence, so when she wrote to me several years ago, I never got back to her, to my shame. I heard from mutual friends that she'd been inquiring about me, but didn't really have any way of reaching her until now. I am really excited about the possibility of seeing her again, sometime soon. She has been in my thoughts and prayers for a long time... One of the great things about finding her photo on the web was seeing her wonderful smile again; the kind of smile which made you grin when you saw it. She has this gorgeous, infectious laugh, as well. Seeing the picture brought all of this back and made me realize how much I've missed her.
Tuesday, September 13, 2005
Thankfulness
“The worst moment in an atheist’s life is when he is filled with thankfulness but realizes he has no-one to thank!”
G. K. Chesterton
Incident in the life of wonderful old gospel-preacher, Vance Havner; known for his fervent love of Christ, his ability to preach the true Gospel, and, occasionally, his saltiness:
One Lord’s Day, after the service, Pastor Havnor shook hands with a parishioner and asked this fellow how he was. The parishioner said, “Oh, I’m pretty good, under the circumstances”. Pastor Havner asked, “What I want to know is, what is a Christian doing under the circumstances, anyway?”
Here’s another of his quotes I read tonight, based on Hebrews 11:
“Moses saw the invisible, chose the imperishable and did the impossible.”
Finally, the following gave me such comfort after my Dad’s death, three years ago. I was struggling with a sense of helplessness and anger at the suffering he'd experienced in the last six days of his life. I picked up one of Vance Havner's books and turned right to a passage where he spoke of his agony, as he sat by his wife's bedside, watching her pass into the presence of the Lord. He couldn't understand why she'd suffered so much and as he spoke of his anger and hurt at what she was having to pass through, He heard his wife whisper, “One minute in the presence of the Lord is worth a lifetime of suffering”.
The general theme of these passages is we have much to be thankful for; something I lose sight of on a continuing basis. The other day I came across a sort of love letter I’d written regarding my Dad, after he died. In it I speak of all that I discovered I had to be thankful for in the circumstances surrounding his demise. At some point, when I get up enough courage, I’ll share it here…
G. K. Chesterton
Incident in the life of wonderful old gospel-preacher, Vance Havner; known for his fervent love of Christ, his ability to preach the true Gospel, and, occasionally, his saltiness:
One Lord’s Day, after the service, Pastor Havnor shook hands with a parishioner and asked this fellow how he was. The parishioner said, “Oh, I’m pretty good, under the circumstances”. Pastor Havner asked, “What I want to know is, what is a Christian doing under the circumstances, anyway?”
Here’s another of his quotes I read tonight, based on Hebrews 11:
“Moses saw the invisible, chose the imperishable and did the impossible.”
Finally, the following gave me such comfort after my Dad’s death, three years ago. I was struggling with a sense of helplessness and anger at the suffering he'd experienced in the last six days of his life. I picked up one of Vance Havner's books and turned right to a passage where he spoke of his agony, as he sat by his wife's bedside, watching her pass into the presence of the Lord. He couldn't understand why she'd suffered so much and as he spoke of his anger and hurt at what she was having to pass through, He heard his wife whisper, “One minute in the presence of the Lord is worth a lifetime of suffering”.
The general theme of these passages is we have much to be thankful for; something I lose sight of on a continuing basis. The other day I came across a sort of love letter I’d written regarding my Dad, after he died. In it I speak of all that I discovered I had to be thankful for in the circumstances surrounding his demise. At some point, when I get up enough courage, I’ll share it here…
Saturday, August 06, 2005
Neat Photos of CAC and JT
Someone who'd spoken with my Grandfather, Stanley McCallum, in the late '70's noticed his picture in my blog. Mr. Van Costen has written a couple of lovely notes to me and with the most recent letter, he sent these two photos. I think this one is lovely because it shows how tender Mr. Coates was; just looking at his eyes shows his love for the Lord and His people. This photo made me want to read more of his ministry, possibly because it's made him more of a real person to me.
I thought this was also a cool picture. It is of Mr. James Taylor when he was sixteen years old. Ironically, my Mother has a copy of this same photo, only she didn't know who it was; she thought it was one of her brothers dressed up in old-time clothes! Thank you for sending these, Mr. Costen, & I will write to you soon!
Phillipians 4:8-Tribute to Mother
"Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence, if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things." Php 4:8
I have been thinking about this scripture most of the night. In the last couple of days, I’ve had some of the worst pain I’ve experienced in months over my right kidney. For some reason, even tho’ I live with severe pain on a daily basis, when the pain escalates past a certain point, it’s hard not to think of anything else. Of course, this is the worst thing that can happen because, in my experience, if I can distract myself in some way, the pain becomes at least a little more bearable. So, I began thinking again of this scripture and was reminded of many things in my past which, tho’ hard at the time, were a blessing to me. I also remembered the one person who’s been with me throughout each of my hospitalizations and has tried her best to ease my pain, if only being present for these terribly painful times; this person is my Mother.
Despite her own severe health issues, my mom has gone out of her way on a continuing basis to be available for me when I’ve had to undergo surgery. At times she’s argued with the doctors when they wouldn’t believe my complaints of severe pain. Other times, she’s just been there to hold my hand when no-one else could be. She’s fought to have the doctors/surgeons do what was best for me. Mommy’s even sat with me during long hours & days of doctors appointments at Mayo Clinic.
One of the best stories I remember about Mother’s quiet ferocity in attempting to make sure I received the care I needed was after my last major surgery on my right kidney, in 1997. I was at a strange hospital (Froedtert Memorial), in a strange town (Milwaukee, WI) having moved there to begin a contract at the Milwaukee Children’s Hospital as a traveling nurse. When I’d been there only four days and was scheduled to start my first day of work in the morning, I realized that my right kidney/ureter was obstructed because I had this horrendous pain; pain which had occurred on my left side six months before, when my left kidney/ureter was obstructed from recurring post-hysterectomy endometriosis.
I tried to drive myself to the hospital but found I could hardly breath from the pain. There was an accident on the road leading to the hospital and I came close to stopping the police and asking them to call an ambulance to take me the rest of the way. I managed to make it to the hospital and was seen immediately because it was obvious the pain was worse than anything I can describe. After they diagnosed the obstruction, I was told I’d need to have surgery to bypass it; the endometriosis had returned and grown around the ureter, closing it off. I’d had so many surgeries, the last one only six months previous, and I decided to try to fight having this one. So a a nephrostomy tube was placed in my right kidney and I started my job at the Children’s Hospital, with a bag hanging from my right flank which drained my kidney, temporarily bypassing the obstruction.
About a week later, I was still in tremendous pain, tho’ it had been relieved to some degree by the nephrostomy tube. Endometriosis is a horror in that, tho’ one aspect of it may improve via intervention, the underlying pain of the disease is still there. I couldn’t take the pain any longer, so surgery was scheduled. Thankfully, my Mother was sitting by the bedside when I was brought back from surgery. The surgeons had placed a central line in my right internal jugular (the major vein in my neck) because I’d had so many surgeries I no longer had very good venous access in my hands/arms. When the surgeons came by after the surgery, they brought good news; they said they’d not had to do the extensive revisions of the kidney and ureters they thought they’d have to do prior to surgery. This was good because it meant, hopefully, I’d need less healing time and there wouldn’t be as much scar tissue to worry about.
When I could get a word in edgewise, over their excitement, I told them that I was having terrible pain. They immediately said, “Well, you just had major surgery so it’s normal to have pain.” I said, “You don’t understand! I’ve had nine major surgeries in the past ten years, so I know what it feels like to have pain after surgery! This pain is above and beyond anything I’ve felt before, post-surgery!” The doctors tried to explain that my expectations regarding pain-relief were too great; that I was getting large doses of morphine thru my central line. At this point, my Mother quietly spoke up and said, “Excuse me, but is it normal for blood to be pouring out of that IV line in her neck?” The doctors became quite agitated at this point, discovering that the line had not been connected properly, so not only was I losing blood through a major neck vein, all of the “large doses of morphine” were pouring out onto the bed! No wonder I was in such pain!! I shudder to think about how long I would have lain suffering if she hadn’t been there and spoken up in my defense.
This is only one of several times my Mother has intervened on my behalf. I will always be thankful she was there looking out for me. I love my Mom very much and am thankful for all she does for me on a continuing basis, day to day. I love her tender heart and her desire to do God’s will. I love the way she prays for those she loves, especially the children. It’s not uncommon for me to find her on her knees beside her bed in the middle of the day after receiving a phone call or other message regarding friends, grand-kids and other family members whom she loves who are in trouble or pain.
I once told her, when I was a child, that I wanted to grow up to be like her some day. I’ll always remember how she cried, saying, “You don’t want to be like me, sweetheart.” It was a day when she was overwhelmed by her kids, trying to run a household pretty much on her own since my dad was gone much of the time, and full-time work. Well, I am here to say, “Mother, I still want to grow up to be like you!”
I have been thinking about this scripture most of the night. In the last couple of days, I’ve had some of the worst pain I’ve experienced in months over my right kidney. For some reason, even tho’ I live with severe pain on a daily basis, when the pain escalates past a certain point, it’s hard not to think of anything else. Of course, this is the worst thing that can happen because, in my experience, if I can distract myself in some way, the pain becomes at least a little more bearable. So, I began thinking again of this scripture and was reminded of many things in my past which, tho’ hard at the time, were a blessing to me. I also remembered the one person who’s been with me throughout each of my hospitalizations and has tried her best to ease my pain, if only being present for these terribly painful times; this person is my Mother.
Despite her own severe health issues, my mom has gone out of her way on a continuing basis to be available for me when I’ve had to undergo surgery. At times she’s argued with the doctors when they wouldn’t believe my complaints of severe pain. Other times, she’s just been there to hold my hand when no-one else could be. She’s fought to have the doctors/surgeons do what was best for me. Mommy’s even sat with me during long hours & days of doctors appointments at Mayo Clinic.
One of the best stories I remember about Mother’s quiet ferocity in attempting to make sure I received the care I needed was after my last major surgery on my right kidney, in 1997. I was at a strange hospital (Froedtert Memorial), in a strange town (Milwaukee, WI) having moved there to begin a contract at the Milwaukee Children’s Hospital as a traveling nurse. When I’d been there only four days and was scheduled to start my first day of work in the morning, I realized that my right kidney/ureter was obstructed because I had this horrendous pain; pain which had occurred on my left side six months before, when my left kidney/ureter was obstructed from recurring post-hysterectomy endometriosis.
I tried to drive myself to the hospital but found I could hardly breath from the pain. There was an accident on the road leading to the hospital and I came close to stopping the police and asking them to call an ambulance to take me the rest of the way. I managed to make it to the hospital and was seen immediately because it was obvious the pain was worse than anything I can describe. After they diagnosed the obstruction, I was told I’d need to have surgery to bypass it; the endometriosis had returned and grown around the ureter, closing it off. I’d had so many surgeries, the last one only six months previous, and I decided to try to fight having this one. So a a nephrostomy tube was placed in my right kidney and I started my job at the Children’s Hospital, with a bag hanging from my right flank which drained my kidney, temporarily bypassing the obstruction.
About a week later, I was still in tremendous pain, tho’ it had been relieved to some degree by the nephrostomy tube. Endometriosis is a horror in that, tho’ one aspect of it may improve via intervention, the underlying pain of the disease is still there. I couldn’t take the pain any longer, so surgery was scheduled. Thankfully, my Mother was sitting by the bedside when I was brought back from surgery. The surgeons had placed a central line in my right internal jugular (the major vein in my neck) because I’d had so many surgeries I no longer had very good venous access in my hands/arms. When the surgeons came by after the surgery, they brought good news; they said they’d not had to do the extensive revisions of the kidney and ureters they thought they’d have to do prior to surgery. This was good because it meant, hopefully, I’d need less healing time and there wouldn’t be as much scar tissue to worry about.
When I could get a word in edgewise, over their excitement, I told them that I was having terrible pain. They immediately said, “Well, you just had major surgery so it’s normal to have pain.” I said, “You don’t understand! I’ve had nine major surgeries in the past ten years, so I know what it feels like to have pain after surgery! This pain is above and beyond anything I’ve felt before, post-surgery!” The doctors tried to explain that my expectations regarding pain-relief were too great; that I was getting large doses of morphine thru my central line. At this point, my Mother quietly spoke up and said, “Excuse me, but is it normal for blood to be pouring out of that IV line in her neck?” The doctors became quite agitated at this point, discovering that the line had not been connected properly, so not only was I losing blood through a major neck vein, all of the “large doses of morphine” were pouring out onto the bed! No wonder I was in such pain!! I shudder to think about how long I would have lain suffering if she hadn’t been there and spoken up in my defense.
This is only one of several times my Mother has intervened on my behalf. I will always be thankful she was there looking out for me. I love my Mom very much and am thankful for all she does for me on a continuing basis, day to day. I love her tender heart and her desire to do God’s will. I love the way she prays for those she loves, especially the children. It’s not uncommon for me to find her on her knees beside her bed in the middle of the day after receiving a phone call or other message regarding friends, grand-kids and other family members whom she loves who are in trouble or pain.
I once told her, when I was a child, that I wanted to grow up to be like her some day. I’ll always remember how she cried, saying, “You don’t want to be like me, sweetheart.” It was a day when she was overwhelmed by her kids, trying to run a household pretty much on her own since my dad was gone much of the time, and full-time work. Well, I am here to say, “Mother, I still want to grow up to be like you!”
Wednesday, July 20, 2005
Macro shots of Orchids
Also wanted to share some experimental shots I got while using my macro lens. This is my niece's orchid; Josie was given it by Joe, her heart's desire (Joe, not the orchid).
Sunday, July 17, 2005
Josie & Zippy
Josie holding Ben's cat, Zippy. Aren't her dimples amazing? (Josie's dimples, NOT the cat's!)
Friday, July 15, 2005
Being Subpoenaed
I had the frightening experience, day before yesterday, of getting a phone call from the State's Attorney's Office, wanting me to return their call (I was at work). Even though I've never done anything illegal and should have felt at peace, I began suddenly to worry about unpaid hospital bills at Carle Hospital in Urbana, IL; wondering whether they'd gotten sick of waiting for me to pay them and now they were suing! This was especially worrisome because Carle is notoriously nasty about bills (despite what they get written up about them in the News-Gazette, our local paper!)
Turns out, however, that I'd been a witness to some boys who'd robbed a girl and attempted to use one of her checks to pay for some CDs, when I worked at Borders. I was being contacted so I could come in and help them in their case against the kids. What a RELIEF! It's funny how you can be innocent yet feel SO guilty when your phoned by someone like them. I couldn't help laughing, but also said a big, "THANK YOU, Dearest Lord", when I got off the phone. :-)
Turns out, however, that I'd been a witness to some boys who'd robbed a girl and attempted to use one of her checks to pay for some CDs, when I worked at Borders. I was being contacted so I could come in and help them in their case against the kids. What a RELIEF! It's funny how you can be innocent yet feel SO guilty when your phoned by someone like them. I couldn't help laughing, but also said a big, "THANK YOU, Dearest Lord", when I got off the phone. :-)
A REALLY Bad Day
My sister-in-law, Linda, who is the toughest, most courageous person I've ever known, had a terrible day today. Just before I left for work this morning, I received a phone call from a friend, Emily, who was at Lin's house. She said Lin had fallen from a step ladder and that her arm "hurt really bad". Could I come & check it out?
Of course, I went over immediately and found Linda sweating, pale, and in terrible pain, but her usual laughing self, otherwise. When I tried to gently straighten her arm out to test it's range of motion, I could feel that she'd broken it by the grating under my fingers (called crepitus in medical terminology). Also, she couldn't extend more than a few inches. I told LIn what I'd found and she needed to go to the hospital immediately. Of course, she pooh-poohed this a little at first, but she admitted she was on the point of fainting from the whole incident (i.e., pain).
She had been in the goat shed when she'd fallen (trying to get something for Emily stored in the rafters), so had goat feces all over her. Between this and her arm and miscellaneous scrapes and bruises, she was a mess and refused to go up to the hospital without changing her clothes first. We were able to get her changed with all of us helping (and sometimes hurting), finally, but it was clearly a rough time for her. Mother also convinced her to call Tim (my brother) and let him know what was going on. At first she "didn't want to bother him unless it turned out to be serious".
The x-ray showed she had a fracture but because she'd broken the same elbow years ago, they had her seen by an orthopod to figure out which fractures were old and which were new. They told her she'd have to have surgery, but needed a CT scan to clearly show what was going on. From what we know at this time, she broke off the radial head (the bottom bone of the forearm where it attaches at the elbow joint to the humerus, or upper arm bone). It sounds as though she'll need to have it pinned, etc., but we won't know for sure until we get the official results of the CT on Monday.
Poor kid, she's in so much pain. It's times like this that I feel SO helpless and wish I could do more than recommend ice, elevation and pain meds every four hours around the clock for twenty four hours. Please pray for her. She has a 4yo daughter, as well as a 19yo and 15yo. Josie, the 19yo is able to help out extensively, thankfully, but poor Ben, the 15yo is up in Canada staying with cousins. Anyway we're thankful it wasn't much worse (like her back, which would have been devastating since she's also injured it extensively when she was a child) and feel the need to thank the Lord Jesus for this mercy.
Of course, I went over immediately and found Linda sweating, pale, and in terrible pain, but her usual laughing self, otherwise. When I tried to gently straighten her arm out to test it's range of motion, I could feel that she'd broken it by the grating under my fingers (called crepitus in medical terminology). Also, she couldn't extend more than a few inches. I told LIn what I'd found and she needed to go to the hospital immediately. Of course, she pooh-poohed this a little at first, but she admitted she was on the point of fainting from the whole incident (i.e., pain).
She had been in the goat shed when she'd fallen (trying to get something for Emily stored in the rafters), so had goat feces all over her. Between this and her arm and miscellaneous scrapes and bruises, she was a mess and refused to go up to the hospital without changing her clothes first. We were able to get her changed with all of us helping (and sometimes hurting), finally, but it was clearly a rough time for her. Mother also convinced her to call Tim (my brother) and let him know what was going on. At first she "didn't want to bother him unless it turned out to be serious".
The x-ray showed she had a fracture but because she'd broken the same elbow years ago, they had her seen by an orthopod to figure out which fractures were old and which were new. They told her she'd have to have surgery, but needed a CT scan to clearly show what was going on. From what we know at this time, she broke off the radial head (the bottom bone of the forearm where it attaches at the elbow joint to the humerus, or upper arm bone). It sounds as though she'll need to have it pinned, etc., but we won't know for sure until we get the official results of the CT on Monday.
Poor kid, she's in so much pain. It's times like this that I feel SO helpless and wish I could do more than recommend ice, elevation and pain meds every four hours around the clock for twenty four hours. Please pray for her. She has a 4yo daughter, as well as a 19yo and 15yo. Josie, the 19yo is able to help out extensively, thankfully, but poor Ben, the 15yo is up in Canada staying with cousins. Anyway we're thankful it wasn't much worse (like her back, which would have been devastating since she's also injured it extensively when she was a child) and feel the need to thank the Lord Jesus for this mercy.
Monday, July 11, 2005
The joy of a Vocation
I recently started a job at the University of Illinois, in which I am taking the place of an Academic Professional who is having surgery and will be out several weeks. I work for Dr. Benita Katzenellenbogen who is one of the premiere researchers in the effects of estrogen on Breast Cancer. It is a joy to work for someone who is making such a difference in so many thousands of peoples' lives. I mainly do clerical work, but it is interesting and requires me to use my brain, not just do mindless grunt-work.
Dr. K., as her staff and students call her, is a perfectionist to the nth degree. I've found that the person whose place I'm taking has found it difficult to work for her and that others also have had this problem, but I like the work! Perhaps it's because I'm a perfectionist as well, and that I've worked with many physicians who were also perfectionists. I just enjoy trying to do my best and finding that it is appreciated by Dr. K. I'm glad to be where I am and can't help praying that I'll be able to keep the job (that her AP will decide to retire, etc., not that I'll make her lose her job!). I would still like to do nursing part-time, but really long for this job to become permanent.
Dr. K., as her staff and students call her, is a perfectionist to the nth degree. I've found that the person whose place I'm taking has found it difficult to work for her and that others also have had this problem, but I like the work! Perhaps it's because I'm a perfectionist as well, and that I've worked with many physicians who were also perfectionists. I just enjoy trying to do my best and finding that it is appreciated by Dr. K. I'm glad to be where I am and can't help praying that I'll be able to keep the job (that her AP will decide to retire, etc., not that I'll make her lose her job!). I would still like to do nursing part-time, but really long for this job to become permanent.
Wednesday, June 22, 2005
Brennan Hawkins recovery
"People say that the heavens are closed and God no longer answers prayers. We are here to unequivocally tell you that the heavens are not closed, prayers are answered and children come home," said Brennan's mother, Jody Hawkins. (Mother of 11yo boy recovered in Utah wilderness.)
Just was really touched by this quote. What an example of God's love and grace. He doesn't always answer prayers in the way we want, but He ALWAYS gives us the strength and grace to get through even the worst pain, suffering and loss.
Just was really touched by this quote. What an example of God's love and grace. He doesn't always answer prayers in the way we want, but He ALWAYS gives us the strength and grace to get through even the worst pain, suffering and loss.
Tuesday, June 14, 2005
A Setback
Please pray for my sister-at-heart, Michele, who has struggled with a neurological disorder which has been extremely difficult to diagnose. She'd been doing much better in recent weeks, but in the past day or so has started having the symptoms again. I think it must be pretty devastating to believe your healed of an illness (or it least close to it) than have it recur.
Pray that she might have a sense of the Lord's nearness and His deep and intense, personal love for her. Pray, too, for the family, since it will be difficult for them, as well. They've been discouraged with this illness for a few months now and I know they must feel so lost and alone right now. May they have a deeper, fuller sense of their Heavenly Father's love and know He desires to bless them despite this hardship. Pray they have the strength to continue in their walk, and that God grant's them the grace they need to overcome. I love you guys very much, Steve & Michele!
(Click on this entry's title to see more on Steve's website)
Pray that she might have a sense of the Lord's nearness and His deep and intense, personal love for her. Pray, too, for the family, since it will be difficult for them, as well. They've been discouraged with this illness for a few months now and I know they must feel so lost and alone right now. May they have a deeper, fuller sense of their Heavenly Father's love and know He desires to bless them despite this hardship. Pray they have the strength to continue in their walk, and that God grant's them the grace they need to overcome. I love you guys very much, Steve & Michele!
(Click on this entry's title to see more on Steve's website)
God's timing vs. Coincidence
I've been impressed today by the Spirit's work in bringing a passage of scripture to my mind today. This morning I received a lovely note from a virtual stranger who had commented on photos that were posted on another URL-->http://www.flickr.com/photos/48889100198@N01/). This person, by way of encouraging me, made a reference to Elijah and his battle with fear in the wilderness, when he felt completely alone.
I was touched by his words, but was even more impressed when I began reading a word by a brother in the Lord, the late Norman Meek, who gave an address while at a Bible Conference in my hometown in 1981. I picked up the book which contained the address out of idle curiosity but felt a real sense of the Spirit working when I began reading and found it was about Elijah and his struggle with fear in the wilderness. Mr. Meek points out this fear occurs almost immediately after Elijah had seen, in faith, a manifestation of God coming in, in the way of blessings raining down from heaven. He says, “Elijah’s had been a remarkable stand, a fearless stand. God had blessed it. And now, Elijah detects a sound of an abundance of rain, that is, a ministry of blessing. We always need, dear brethren, to look for that.” “Raising the Level and Other Ministry-N.T.M” Pg. 313 Published by G. J. Richards.
He also speaks, in the same address, of how Elijah passed his mantle to Elisha, than continues his walk without turning back, still feeling alone and despondent. Mr. Meek wonders whether Elijah would have heard the sound of running feet as Elisha came to him and what his feelings would have been; the joy in his heart as he wonders whether Elisha will take up the mantle given to him, through Elijah, by God. He ends the address with the following, in reference to the older generation of believers, “Have they cause for any comfort? Is there cause for any joy? Well, dear brethren, I think there may be the sound of the abundance of rain, the latter rain that will fill up the crop, so that when the Lord comes there will be something that will just answer to His heart. And then may there also be in our localities, perhaps not running too fast yet, the sound of these running feet in young brothers and sisters, for the Lord’s names’ sake.” Pg. 319 December 25, 1981
Finally, when I was looking for another passage tonight, while writing another entry, I opened my Bible to the following verses in James 5:end of v. 16-18, “The prayer of a righteous person has great power as it is working. Elijah was a man with a nature like ours, and he prayed fervently that it might not rain, and for three years and six months it did not rain on the earth. Then he prayed again, and heaven gave rain, and the earth bore fruit.”
Some might call these three incidences coincidence, but all I can say is, "Wow!" How can I not be impressed with this evidence of God’s love as He trys to bring me into deeper relationship with Himself? I feel humbled and a little shaky, with an intense longing to know exactly what it is He would have me learn from these words. Pray for me in this, please. May you, too, have a sense of the Lord’s blessing in them!
I was touched by his words, but was even more impressed when I began reading a word by a brother in the Lord, the late Norman Meek, who gave an address while at a Bible Conference in my hometown in 1981. I picked up the book which contained the address out of idle curiosity but felt a real sense of the Spirit working when I began reading and found it was about Elijah and his struggle with fear in the wilderness. Mr. Meek points out this fear occurs almost immediately after Elijah had seen, in faith, a manifestation of God coming in, in the way of blessings raining down from heaven. He says, “Elijah’s had been a remarkable stand, a fearless stand. God had blessed it. And now, Elijah detects a sound of an abundance of rain, that is, a ministry of blessing. We always need, dear brethren, to look for that.” “Raising the Level and Other Ministry-N.T.M” Pg. 313 Published by G. J. Richards.
He also speaks, in the same address, of how Elijah passed his mantle to Elisha, than continues his walk without turning back, still feeling alone and despondent. Mr. Meek wonders whether Elijah would have heard the sound of running feet as Elisha came to him and what his feelings would have been; the joy in his heart as he wonders whether Elisha will take up the mantle given to him, through Elijah, by God. He ends the address with the following, in reference to the older generation of believers, “Have they cause for any comfort? Is there cause for any joy? Well, dear brethren, I think there may be the sound of the abundance of rain, the latter rain that will fill up the crop, so that when the Lord comes there will be something that will just answer to His heart. And then may there also be in our localities, perhaps not running too fast yet, the sound of these running feet in young brothers and sisters, for the Lord’s names’ sake.” Pg. 319 December 25, 1981
Finally, when I was looking for another passage tonight, while writing another entry, I opened my Bible to the following verses in James 5:end of v. 16-18, “The prayer of a righteous person has great power as it is working. Elijah was a man with a nature like ours, and he prayed fervently that it might not rain, and for three years and six months it did not rain on the earth. Then he prayed again, and heaven gave rain, and the earth bore fruit.”
Some might call these three incidences coincidence, but all I can say is, "Wow!" How can I not be impressed with this evidence of God’s love as He trys to bring me into deeper relationship with Himself? I feel humbled and a little shaky, with an intense longing to know exactly what it is He would have me learn from these words. Pray for me in this, please. May you, too, have a sense of the Lord’s blessing in them!
Oswald Chambers quote
I was really moved when reading the monthly "Voice of the Martyrs" magazine (http://www.persecution.com/) this past week. There was a quote from Oswald Chambers in it which made me really think. It was, "God does not give us an overcoming life--He gives us life as we overcome."
I've never been a big fan of Mr. Chambers writing (to my shame, as I can see now). I felt, in the past when attempting to read his work, he was too rigid, legal and somewhat cold in his perceptions of Christ (speaking more about righteousness than of His love and grace). Clearly I've done him a disservice and will pursue reading his work.
I was touched by this quote because it spoke to my heart in my current situation in life. I'm so apt to pray for guidance, wisdom and 'a spirit of overcoming' without wanting to do the work needed to "keep on, keepin' on" as a friend of mine says. The part I tend to overlook is my need to keep my eyes Christ-ward and do the best I can to walk "worthily of the calling by which I've been called", as it says in scripture. When I focus only on my life and the worries that are so apt to surround it, than I become overwhelmed and cannot overcome. Yet, if by His grace, I am able to keep walking "in the light, as He is in the light", no matter what darkness may surround me, when I look up, my sight is filled with the beauty of His holiness and I no longer see darkness, just light. There is a clarity about this; lovely in it’s simplicity.
One might argue, "But if you're looking upward and into the Light all of the time, you must stumble because you cannot see your feet!" Yet there is a scripture from Jude's letter that is an excellent reply and has been a comfort to me for many years. The verse is a loving benediction which says, "Now to him who is able to keep you from stumbling and to present you blameless before the presence of his glory with great joy, to the only God, our Saviour, through Jesus Christ, our Lord, be glory, majesty, dominion, and authority, before all time and now and forever. Amen" Jude 1:24,25
This passage has given me hope and encouragement during the darkest times of my life. Only by walking in His light and knowing the peace of His infinite love and mercy towards us, can we walk in the Way that leads to life, through overcoming. So we all can be overcomers. What joy!
I've never been a big fan of Mr. Chambers writing (to my shame, as I can see now). I felt, in the past when attempting to read his work, he was too rigid, legal and somewhat cold in his perceptions of Christ (speaking more about righteousness than of His love and grace). Clearly I've done him a disservice and will pursue reading his work.
I was touched by this quote because it spoke to my heart in my current situation in life. I'm so apt to pray for guidance, wisdom and 'a spirit of overcoming' without wanting to do the work needed to "keep on, keepin' on" as a friend of mine says. The part I tend to overlook is my need to keep my eyes Christ-ward and do the best I can to walk "worthily of the calling by which I've been called", as it says in scripture. When I focus only on my life and the worries that are so apt to surround it, than I become overwhelmed and cannot overcome. Yet, if by His grace, I am able to keep walking "in the light, as He is in the light", no matter what darkness may surround me, when I look up, my sight is filled with the beauty of His holiness and I no longer see darkness, just light. There is a clarity about this; lovely in it’s simplicity.
One might argue, "But if you're looking upward and into the Light all of the time, you must stumble because you cannot see your feet!" Yet there is a scripture from Jude's letter that is an excellent reply and has been a comfort to me for many years. The verse is a loving benediction which says, "Now to him who is able to keep you from stumbling and to present you blameless before the presence of his glory with great joy, to the only God, our Saviour, through Jesus Christ, our Lord, be glory, majesty, dominion, and authority, before all time and now and forever. Amen" Jude 1:24,25
This passage has given me hope and encouragement during the darkest times of my life. Only by walking in His light and knowing the peace of His infinite love and mercy towards us, can we walk in the Way that leads to life, through overcoming. So we all can be overcomers. What joy!
Sunday, May 22, 2005
Eragon
My nephew, Keegan, recommended a really excellent book which has been out for a while but I'd not yet read. I read it yesterday and found it to be one of the best books I've read in its genre. It's comparable to JRR Tolkein's and CS Lewis' books (Lord of the Rings and The Narnia Chronicles), but I find it especially interesting because it was written by a fifteen year old home-schooler. It's one of those books one reads which makes one feel as though one could never write anything like it; it's somewhat discouraging, but also awe-inspiring.
The book is much better, in my opinion, then the Potter series. It has magic in it, but not so strong a focus on "dark magic". The only part which bothered me a bit, initially, was a witch he incorporated into the story. I felt better, tho', when I found out "Angela", the witch, was meant to be a satire of his older sister, Angela. Anyway, it's a sweet story, vibrantly told with incredible detail and wonderful vocabulary. I highly recommend it, especially for readers who enjoy the Tolkein trilogy. I was really blown away at the thought of a person so young writing so beautifully. The book's web-site is: http://www.randomhouse.com/teens/eragon/
The book is much better, in my opinion, then the Potter series. It has magic in it, but not so strong a focus on "dark magic". The only part which bothered me a bit, initially, was a witch he incorporated into the story. I felt better, tho', when I found out "Angela", the witch, was meant to be a satire of his older sister, Angela. Anyway, it's a sweet story, vibrantly told with incredible detail and wonderful vocabulary. I highly recommend it, especially for readers who enjoy the Tolkein trilogy. I was really blown away at the thought of a person so young writing so beautifully. The book's web-site is: http://www.randomhouse.com/teens/eragon/
Saturday, May 07, 2005
New blog in the Oberg menagerie
Check out the latest blogger in the Oberg family! It's really cool. It's at ozwick.blogspot.com
Wednesday, April 13, 2005
Had to share this, 'coz it cracked me up so!
I came across the following quote on my brother Steve's blog (http://www.familymanlibrarian.com/); to say the least it gave me the giggles! I can picture my nephew, Keegan, saying this very soberly, then breaking out into his quirky grin for the last part.
"A donkey doesn't even know it has a tail until it's bit!" Wise words from Keegan, followed by: "Man, I should be a fortune cooker writer!"
Of course, you need to know Keegan and what a great kid he is, with what a silly sense of humor he has, to really enjoy it.
"A donkey doesn't even know it has a tail until it's bit!" Wise words from Keegan, followed by: "Man, I should be a fortune cooker writer!"
Of course, you need to know Keegan and what a great kid he is, with what a silly sense of humor he has, to really enjoy it.
Tuesday, April 05, 2005
Ray's Story
I’ve been thinking lately about a child I took care of when I was working as a Pediatric ICU nurse in the Chicago-area a few years ago. “Ray” (a made up name to protect his confidentiality) was 22 months old and had suffered severe abuse.
“Ray” was being baby-sat by an aunt/cousin who decided he was old enough to be potty-trained. After “Ray” had had two accidents (after all it WAS his first day in training), the baby-sitter became so enraged, she ran a bath with scalding hot water and placed him in it. He suffered severe second-degree burns (the most painful kind of burns because they burn through to the nerve layer) of his lower legs and privates. When his dad (who was working two jobs despite being only 19yo) came to pick him up after work, the aunt blamed the child, saying he’d run the water and then climbed into the tub. This is, of course, ridiculous but it’s a frequent tactic by the abuser to blame the victim. Even though a child might run hot water in a tub, they would not deliberately sit down in it. It was obvious, from the burn pattern, “Ray” had been placed into the water; all of the burns were below the waist.
“Ray’s” dad brought him immediately to the nearest ER where he was admitted to the PICU for evaluation and treatment. Initially, sad to say just because “Ray’s” dad was sole-caregiver, he was suspected of the abuse, especially when the aunt stated the child had arrived at her home that morning with the burns! Fortunately, it was obvious the burns had occurred more recently than that and the only person who could have done it was the aunt. Despite days of accusations and being suspected of such a heinous crime, “Ray’s” dad just quietly and patiently stayed by his bedside, day and night, caring for him.
The incident I want to write of occurred one night when I was caring for “Ray”. By this time, he was in what’s called the Step-Down Unit (an area of the hospital where the child is too sick for the regular unit but not sick enough to be in ICU). When I went in on my nightly rounds, I found “Ray” had a dirty diaper. His dad who was deeply asleep in a chair by the bedside, had had to quit his job by then because he couldn’t stand for any other family members to care for “Ray” (who can blame him). As I reached for a clean diaper, “Ray’s” dad awoke and stood by the bedside watching me. When I went to clean “Ray” with a baby wipe, his dad stopped me and said, “Let me do it, please.” He took the wipe in his hand and held it until it was completely warmed through before using it to clean “Ray’s” terribly burned bottom. It was one of the sweetest and most loving gestures I’ve ever seen.
It probably seems silly in some ways for me to be so touched by this small gesture of love on the part of a teen-age dad, yet it was profoundly moving. All this dad cared about was that his son not experience any more suffering, even the touch of a cold wipe on his skin.
I think the reason I've had this memory on my mind is it reminds me of the love of our Heavenly Father Who is concerned His children not have to go through suffering and loss resulting from sin (whether our own sin or the sin’s of others upon us), and has provided the way of escape through His Son, Jesus Christ. This escape comes about only because His precious Son was willing to sacrifice His life so that we might have eternal life and to know His nearness in His Kingdom today. Because this world is such a broken, sin-filled place we can never completely escape suffering while living in it (much as our Abba wants us to be free of distress), but when we know Jesus as Lord, we always have the Comforter, the blessed Holy Spirit, on which to call.
It’s hard to sit by and watch family members experiencing suffering, especially when they are so undeserving of it, and have already suffered through extensive illness through this past year. It’s my prayer that they may know the nearness of our Father’s love and the Comfort of the Holy Spirit as they pass through this period of affliction. May it be your prayer, too.
“Ray” was being baby-sat by an aunt/cousin who decided he was old enough to be potty-trained. After “Ray” had had two accidents (after all it WAS his first day in training), the baby-sitter became so enraged, she ran a bath with scalding hot water and placed him in it. He suffered severe second-degree burns (the most painful kind of burns because they burn through to the nerve layer) of his lower legs and privates. When his dad (who was working two jobs despite being only 19yo) came to pick him up after work, the aunt blamed the child, saying he’d run the water and then climbed into the tub. This is, of course, ridiculous but it’s a frequent tactic by the abuser to blame the victim. Even though a child might run hot water in a tub, they would not deliberately sit down in it. It was obvious, from the burn pattern, “Ray” had been placed into the water; all of the burns were below the waist.
“Ray’s” dad brought him immediately to the nearest ER where he was admitted to the PICU for evaluation and treatment. Initially, sad to say just because “Ray’s” dad was sole-caregiver, he was suspected of the abuse, especially when the aunt stated the child had arrived at her home that morning with the burns! Fortunately, it was obvious the burns had occurred more recently than that and the only person who could have done it was the aunt. Despite days of accusations and being suspected of such a heinous crime, “Ray’s” dad just quietly and patiently stayed by his bedside, day and night, caring for him.
The incident I want to write of occurred one night when I was caring for “Ray”. By this time, he was in what’s called the Step-Down Unit (an area of the hospital where the child is too sick for the regular unit but not sick enough to be in ICU). When I went in on my nightly rounds, I found “Ray” had a dirty diaper. His dad who was deeply asleep in a chair by the bedside, had had to quit his job by then because he couldn’t stand for any other family members to care for “Ray” (who can blame him). As I reached for a clean diaper, “Ray’s” dad awoke and stood by the bedside watching me. When I went to clean “Ray” with a baby wipe, his dad stopped me and said, “Let me do it, please.” He took the wipe in his hand and held it until it was completely warmed through before using it to clean “Ray’s” terribly burned bottom. It was one of the sweetest and most loving gestures I’ve ever seen.
It probably seems silly in some ways for me to be so touched by this small gesture of love on the part of a teen-age dad, yet it was profoundly moving. All this dad cared about was that his son not experience any more suffering, even the touch of a cold wipe on his skin.
I think the reason I've had this memory on my mind is it reminds me of the love of our Heavenly Father Who is concerned His children not have to go through suffering and loss resulting from sin (whether our own sin or the sin’s of others upon us), and has provided the way of escape through His Son, Jesus Christ. This escape comes about only because His precious Son was willing to sacrifice His life so that we might have eternal life and to know His nearness in His Kingdom today. Because this world is such a broken, sin-filled place we can never completely escape suffering while living in it (much as our Abba wants us to be free of distress), but when we know Jesus as Lord, we always have the Comforter, the blessed Holy Spirit, on which to call.
It’s hard to sit by and watch family members experiencing suffering, especially when they are so undeserving of it, and have already suffered through extensive illness through this past year. It’s my prayer that they may know the nearness of our Father’s love and the Comfort of the Holy Spirit as they pass through this period of affliction. May it be your prayer, too.
Monday, April 04, 2005
Michele & Steve
Michele & Steve are really poorly. I know they'd appreciate your prayers (whoever out there is reading this(?)). Steven called tonight to say they are both suffering from what the doctors think is food poisoning, on top of Michele's worsening neurological problems. Michele may be able to get into see a Neurosurgeon (or Neurologist-->I'm not sure which) in Indianapolis tomorrow because she is getting so much worse; she has almost constant tremoring now, as well as slurred and shaking speech. Obviously it is terribly frightening for them both, and to be sick with this severe stomach ailment on top of things is overwhelming!
I don't know when I've been more frustrated; to have to sit here, a three and a half hour drive from them and not be able to help is really difficult. Am trying hard to leave matters in my Heavenly Father's hands, but am not as restful as I should be. I just want to help them so much. It broke my heart when Steve called tonight to ask if I (or Mother, or anyone else) could come over tonight, and I had to tell him that though I am working only part-time, I'm scheduled to work tomorrow, Wednesday and Friday. The desperation in his voice made me want to cry. Thankfully, Michele's Mom & Dad are going to drive over first thing in the AM to be with them. This will be good because they've only just spent a week with Michele's parents, so the kids are comfortable being with them, etc. It's been confusing and difficult for the children to see both parents so unwell, so please pray for them, as well (Keegan 13yo, Tristan 4yo, Brinley 2yo, and Cohen 1yo).
Pray especially that Michele (& Steve because he finds it so hard to watch her suffer) have a sense of the Father's arms of love enveloping them, and with that enveloping love, peace.
I don't know when I've been more frustrated; to have to sit here, a three and a half hour drive from them and not be able to help is really difficult. Am trying hard to leave matters in my Heavenly Father's hands, but am not as restful as I should be. I just want to help them so much. It broke my heart when Steve called tonight to ask if I (or Mother, or anyone else) could come over tonight, and I had to tell him that though I am working only part-time, I'm scheduled to work tomorrow, Wednesday and Friday. The desperation in his voice made me want to cry. Thankfully, Michele's Mom & Dad are going to drive over first thing in the AM to be with them. This will be good because they've only just spent a week with Michele's parents, so the kids are comfortable being with them, etc. It's been confusing and difficult for the children to see both parents so unwell, so please pray for them, as well (Keegan 13yo, Tristan 4yo, Brinley 2yo, and Cohen 1yo).
Pray especially that Michele (& Steve because he finds it so hard to watch her suffer) have a sense of the Father's arms of love enveloping them, and with that enveloping love, peace.
"To a Lady with Whom I've Been Intimate, Whose Name I Do Not Know" by Walter Wangerin, Jr.
Here’s the other story; it’s not well known (like “Ragman” is) but is as beautiful. Pastor Wangerin writes with such love and a perspective I'd like to one day know with my whole-heart. It's a state of being which can only be termed Christ-like. The story is especially precious because I can see myself in it…
"To a Lady with Whom I've Been Intimate,
Whose Name I Do Not Know"
You. I saw you in the Great Scot Supermarket tonight, and now I can't sleep on account of you--thinking that, perhaps, you're not sleeping either.
Ah, you! You count your coins with bitten nails, not once but again and again. This is the way you avoid the checker’s eyes, as though ashamed of the goods you buy, as though they declare your loneliness at midnight:
Two six-packs of Tab, because your buttocks, sheathed in shorts, are enormous and hump up your back as you shift your weight from foot to foot. You sigh. I think that you do not know how deeply you sigh, nor yet that I am behind you in the line.
Four frozen dinners whose cartons assure you that there is an apple dessert inside. Swiss steak, roast beef in gravy, chicken drumsticks, shrimp. Which one will you save for Sunday dinner? Do you dress up for Sunday dinner? Do you set the table neatly when the dinner thaws? Or do you eat alone, frowning?
Liquid breakfasts, a carton of Marlboros, five Hershey bars, Tampax, vitamins with iron, a People magazine, Ayds to fight an appetite, two large bags of potato chips. At the very last minute you toss a Harlequin paperback on the counter. Is this what you read at Sunday dinner? Is this your company?
What private wars are waged between your kitchen and your bathroom? Here I see an arsenal for both sides: the She who would lose weight against the She who asks, “Why?” and “So what?”—the She whose desires are fed too much, even while they are hardly fed at all. “It’s your own fault,” the first accuses; “two tons were never tons of love.” But the other cries, “If I were loved I would not need to eat.”
Ah, you.
Rubber thongs on your feet. The polish on your toenails has grown a quarter inch above the cuticle. I notice this because when the checker rings your bill, you drop a quarter which rolls behind me in the line. I stoop to pick it up. When I rise, your hand is already out and you are saying, “Thanks,” even before I returned it to you.
But I do a foolish thing, suddenly, for which I now ask your forgiveness. I didn’t know how dreadfully it would complicate your night.
I hold the quarter an instant in my hand; I look you in the eyes—grey eyes of an honest, charcoal emotion—and I say, “Hello.” And then I say, “How are you?” I truly meant that question. I’m sorry.
Shock hits your face. For one second you search my eyes; your cheeks slacken, then, as though they lost their restraint and might cry. That frightens me: what will I do if you cry? But then your lips curl inward; your nostrils flare; the grey eyes flash; and all at once you are very, very angry.
Like a snake your left hand strikes my wrist and holds it, while the right scrapes the quarter from my hand. I am astonished, both by your strength and by your passion.
You hissed when you hurt me. I heard it and remember it still. Then you paid, crunched the sacks against your breast, and walked out into the night, the thongs sadly slapping at your heels.
Ah, you. You.
How much I must have hurt you by my question. Was that mild commonplace too much a probe, too lethal, too threatening for the delicate balance your life has created for itself? Does kindness terrify you because then, perhaps, you would have to do more than imagine the Harlequin, but then would have to be?
I think so.
To cross the gulf from Life Alone to Life Beloved—truly to be real, truly to be worthy in the eyes of another—means that you are no more your own possession. You give yourself away, and then games all come to an end. No longer can you pretend excuses or accusations against the world; nor can you imagine lies concerning your beauty, your gifts and possibilities. Everything becomes what it really is, for you are seen and you know it. “How are you” triggers “Who are you.” And it wasn’t so much that I said it, but rather that I meant it and that I awaited an answer, too—this caused the lonely She to know her loneliness, even in the moment when I offered you the other thing: friendship.
It’s frightening, isn’t it?
To be loved, dear lady, you must let all illusions die. And since, between the bathroom and the kitchen, between People magazine and the Harlequin, your Self was mostly illusion—at least the acceptable self—then to be loved meant that your very Self had to die—at least the acceptable self.
Instead, you attacked, and my wrist is still bruised tonight. Ah, you.
A rich young ruler came to Jesus, desiring eternal life. He announced that he had kept all the commandments and wondered whether that weren’t enough. But Jesus told him he lacked one thing. He ought, said Jesus, to sell all that he had and give the money to the poor. Upon these words, two were made sorrowful: the rich, because he could not lose his riches, which were his identity and his elf; he turned away. And Jesus, because he loved and would not love this man; but the man turned away.
Riches. O my dear and lonely lady, how rich are you in your illusions. Ironically, you cling to the very loneliness which you despise. It feels safe. But love—God’s love—always comes in light. That’s what scares you. Light illumines truth; obesity, the foolish game between Ayds and potato chips, between cigarettes and vitamins. These things are the truth. These you hide. Yet it is only truth that Jesus can love. He cannot love your imaginings, your riches. Sell all that you have. Undress—
Not me, after all. It is Jesus who asks, “How are you?” And if you would then sell the false self by which you sustain the contemptible Self and die; if you would answer truly, “I’m fat, helpless and alone, unlovely,” then he would love you. No: then you would know that he has loved you all along. To see one truth is to discover the other—which is that he loves you not because you are loveable, but because he is love. And here is the power of his love, that it makes ugliness beautiful! To be loved of God is to be lovely indeed.
All night long I keep a quarter back and ask, “How are you?” I can’t sleep, waiting for the truth: “I’m just terrible.” For then I would cry, “Good! Now there’s a confession I can love!”
And the mighty God, the trumpet-voiced, cries, “I love a child. But she is afraid of me. Then how can I come to her, to feed and to heal her by my love?—“
(Both “Ragman” and this story are taken from the book, “Ragman and Other Cries of Faith” by Walter Wangerin, Jr.)
"To a Lady with Whom I've Been Intimate,
Whose Name I Do Not Know"
You. I saw you in the Great Scot Supermarket tonight, and now I can't sleep on account of you--thinking that, perhaps, you're not sleeping either.
Ah, you! You count your coins with bitten nails, not once but again and again. This is the way you avoid the checker’s eyes, as though ashamed of the goods you buy, as though they declare your loneliness at midnight:
Two six-packs of Tab, because your buttocks, sheathed in shorts, are enormous and hump up your back as you shift your weight from foot to foot. You sigh. I think that you do not know how deeply you sigh, nor yet that I am behind you in the line.
Four frozen dinners whose cartons assure you that there is an apple dessert inside. Swiss steak, roast beef in gravy, chicken drumsticks, shrimp. Which one will you save for Sunday dinner? Do you dress up for Sunday dinner? Do you set the table neatly when the dinner thaws? Or do you eat alone, frowning?
Liquid breakfasts, a carton of Marlboros, five Hershey bars, Tampax, vitamins with iron, a People magazine, Ayds to fight an appetite, two large bags of potato chips. At the very last minute you toss a Harlequin paperback on the counter. Is this what you read at Sunday dinner? Is this your company?
What private wars are waged between your kitchen and your bathroom? Here I see an arsenal for both sides: the She who would lose weight against the She who asks, “Why?” and “So what?”—the She whose desires are fed too much, even while they are hardly fed at all. “It’s your own fault,” the first accuses; “two tons were never tons of love.” But the other cries, “If I were loved I would not need to eat.”
Ah, you.
Rubber thongs on your feet. The polish on your toenails has grown a quarter inch above the cuticle. I notice this because when the checker rings your bill, you drop a quarter which rolls behind me in the line. I stoop to pick it up. When I rise, your hand is already out and you are saying, “Thanks,” even before I returned it to you.
But I do a foolish thing, suddenly, for which I now ask your forgiveness. I didn’t know how dreadfully it would complicate your night.
I hold the quarter an instant in my hand; I look you in the eyes—grey eyes of an honest, charcoal emotion—and I say, “Hello.” And then I say, “How are you?” I truly meant that question. I’m sorry.
Shock hits your face. For one second you search my eyes; your cheeks slacken, then, as though they lost their restraint and might cry. That frightens me: what will I do if you cry? But then your lips curl inward; your nostrils flare; the grey eyes flash; and all at once you are very, very angry.
Like a snake your left hand strikes my wrist and holds it, while the right scrapes the quarter from my hand. I am astonished, both by your strength and by your passion.
You hissed when you hurt me. I heard it and remember it still. Then you paid, crunched the sacks against your breast, and walked out into the night, the thongs sadly slapping at your heels.
Ah, you. You.
How much I must have hurt you by my question. Was that mild commonplace too much a probe, too lethal, too threatening for the delicate balance your life has created for itself? Does kindness terrify you because then, perhaps, you would have to do more than imagine the Harlequin, but then would have to be?
I think so.
To cross the gulf from Life Alone to Life Beloved—truly to be real, truly to be worthy in the eyes of another—means that you are no more your own possession. You give yourself away, and then games all come to an end. No longer can you pretend excuses or accusations against the world; nor can you imagine lies concerning your beauty, your gifts and possibilities. Everything becomes what it really is, for you are seen and you know it. “How are you” triggers “Who are you.” And it wasn’t so much that I said it, but rather that I meant it and that I awaited an answer, too—this caused the lonely She to know her loneliness, even in the moment when I offered you the other thing: friendship.
It’s frightening, isn’t it?
To be loved, dear lady, you must let all illusions die. And since, between the bathroom and the kitchen, between People magazine and the Harlequin, your Self was mostly illusion—at least the acceptable self—then to be loved meant that your very Self had to die—at least the acceptable self.
Instead, you attacked, and my wrist is still bruised tonight. Ah, you.
A rich young ruler came to Jesus, desiring eternal life. He announced that he had kept all the commandments and wondered whether that weren’t enough. But Jesus told him he lacked one thing. He ought, said Jesus, to sell all that he had and give the money to the poor. Upon these words, two were made sorrowful: the rich, because he could not lose his riches, which were his identity and his elf; he turned away. And Jesus, because he loved and would not love this man; but the man turned away.
Riches. O my dear and lonely lady, how rich are you in your illusions. Ironically, you cling to the very loneliness which you despise. It feels safe. But love—God’s love—always comes in light. That’s what scares you. Light illumines truth; obesity, the foolish game between Ayds and potato chips, between cigarettes and vitamins. These things are the truth. These you hide. Yet it is only truth that Jesus can love. He cannot love your imaginings, your riches. Sell all that you have. Undress—
Not me, after all. It is Jesus who asks, “How are you?” And if you would then sell the false self by which you sustain the contemptible Self and die; if you would answer truly, “I’m fat, helpless and alone, unlovely,” then he would love you. No: then you would know that he has loved you all along. To see one truth is to discover the other—which is that he loves you not because you are loveable, but because he is love. And here is the power of his love, that it makes ugliness beautiful! To be loved of God is to be lovely indeed.
All night long I keep a quarter back and ask, “How are you?” I can’t sleep, waiting for the truth: “I’m just terrible.” For then I would cry, “Good! Now there’s a confession I can love!”
And the mighty God, the trumpet-voiced, cries, “I love a child. But she is afraid of me. Then how can I come to her, to feed and to heal her by my love?—“
(Both “Ragman” and this story are taken from the book, “Ragman and Other Cries of Faith” by Walter Wangerin, Jr.)
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