Sleeplessness and prayer

I've not been able to sleep the past two nights due to an excess of pain. I have chronic bursitis in both hips and since I lay on my side when sleeping, it's been a struggle to find a comfortable position. One thing I've found, though, is what a comfort and joy it is to be in prayer during these long, cold, dark nights. I feel such a sense of peace and rest when I am speaking to my Heavenly Father during these times!

I’ve taken scripture to heart and think of all the things He has blessed me (and those I love) with when I’m praying during these times. Then I try to focus on praying for the many who are suffering pain, ill health, sorrow and, in particular, those who are dying. It's amazing, first of all, how my perspective changes from "oh, poor me" to a much brighter, joyous, Christ-filled view. I’ve found this is one of the practical blessings we get from practicing the scripture that says, "Give thanks in all things"! Also, the time flies by when I’m focused on Christ and those who are going through various disciplines! J

To my shame, I haven’t been praying as much as I should have been these past few years. My eyes were on all the things I was struggling with instead of on my Lord. Yet spending these difficult, pain-filled yet oh, so blesséd nights in prayer has helped me understand the verse, “The joy of the Lord will be my strength”, practically! How wonderful our God is to help me to see this, in these particular circumstances.

One Big Happy-My all-time favorite cartoon

I really love this cartoon. It takes the saying “Kids say the darnedest things” to a new and funnier level. I like it, too, because the kids have such a lovely relationship with their grandparents. It’s not afraid to address more serious subjects, as well, such as 9/11/01. Anyway, thought I’d share some of my favorites.

Beautiful Scandalous Night

Another achingly beautiful song I love is this hymn. The juxtaposition of beauty and scandal is haunting and yet so heartrendingly true of our Lord Jesus' last night in Gethsemane and on His walk up that "Holy Mountain" to the cross. His Body became the “wonderful, tragic, mysterious tree” and out of His side flowed the fountain “For you and for me and for all”. By the glorious river that flowed from His side “our spirits (are) restored” and we are “forever washed white”.

Beautiful, Scandalous Night
by Smalltown Poets

Go on up to the mountain of mercy
To the crimson perpetual tide
Kneel down on the shore
Be thirsty no more
Go under and be purified

Follow Christ to the holy mountain
Sinner sorry and wrecked by the fall
Cleanse your heart and your soul
In the fountain that flowed
For you and for me and for all

CHORUS:
At the wonderful, tragic, mysterious tree
On that beautiful, scandalous night you and me
Were atoned by His blood and forever washed white
On that beautiful, scandalous night

On the hillside, you will be delivered
At the foot of the cross justified
And your spirit restored
By the river that poured
From our blessed Savior's side

CHORUS

Go on up to the mountain of mercy
To the crimson perpetual tide
Kneel down on the shore
Be thirsty no more
Go under and be purified

CHORUS

Blessed Be

I was listening to the radio a few days ago and heard a lovely song called, "Blessed Be" by Jason Gray. (I was listening to WBGL 91.7, Champaign, IL) The lyrics really cried out to me, especially with the current uncertainty and additional pain I've recently been going thru. Not only are the lyrics beautiful (the song is based on "the Beatitudes") but the tune is wonderful, too. Here are the lyrics:

Blessed Be
Jason Gray
All the Lovely Losers

Losers
All the lovely losers
Never thought you’d hear your name
Outside
Always on the outside
Empty at the wishing well
But time will tell

Chorus:
Blessed Be
The ones who know that they are weak
They shall see
The Kingdom come to the broken ones
Blessed be

Thirsty
Like you’re drinking from a salt sea
But one day you’ll be satisfied
Hungry
For the taste of mercy
Aching just to have your fill
One day you will

Chorus:
Not for the strong, the beautiful, the brave
Not for the ones who think they’ve got it made
It’s for the poor, the broken and the meek
It’s for the ones who look a lot like you and me

Chorus: (2x’s)

Blessed Be
Losers
All the lovely losers

Longings

I long to be a normal happy and productive Auntie who can spend all the time she and they want with her nieces and nephews and great-nephew. Yet pain is exhausting and I can’t seem to ever find the energy to do much more than get out of bed on most days. I miss the children; I long to be a part of their lives. I’m angry this stupid illness has destroyed so much of my life. I wish I wasn’t alone; that I had a husband to bear these burdens with, but God know this and perhaps some day it will happen for the right reasons and not just to give me someone to share my load.

I promise someday (soon, I hope) I will begin writing frequently of good and happy things, like my Great-Nephews baptism occurring today at 2pm. He’s such a lovely little boy and I find myself wanting so much to hold him now while he’s small coz if he grows much bigger I will no longer be able to hold him while I’m standing up. I remember with nephews and nieces walking with them and jiggling them as I walked would often times comfort them more than anything.

When Nils was 25 months old; we were grieving about the possible loss of his newborn sister Britta who was dangerously ill with RSV. I was called home from work one day to find my family devastated at the news that Britta’s chances at life were 50% or less. Mother was especially distressed having lost a child. Nils was sprawled out on the floor screaming with his mom’s purse in his hands, calling over and over, “Mutti, Mutti!” He'd not allowed anyone to pick him up to comfort him. It was a bit of a shock to see him so distraught since he’d been so good each of the previous four or five days his parents had gone up to the hospital and left him at Grandma’s. Mother said he’d caught sight of Petra’s (his mom’s) purse (she’d left it behind that day) and it just set him off. I picked him up and took him outside and walked down the road with him (jiggling him up and down) and he fell asleep immediately with one hand hanging onto Mutti’s purse and the other latched onto my shirt-collar; holding on for dear life, his dear life! Blessedly, within 24 hours we had the news Britta had made a miraculous turn around. It is her little one, my first great-nephew, whose baptism our family is celebrating today!

I miss, with an agony I can’t describe, being an important part of in the kids’ lives, even the older, married ones. It hurts me with a heart pain the younger children may never have the relationship the older kids did with their Auntie Debbie all because of a disease which has taken up so much of my life, physically, emotionally, and spiritually. I feel so guilty about this, as if I’d only tried harder I wouldn’t be as ill as I’ve been and I would be a part of my family’s life again. I know the Lord Jesus, as the Great Physician, can heal this part of my life as with all other parts, yet it’s hard not to grieve over what is already lost.

Count it all joy...

“Count it all joy, my brothers, when you meet trials of various kinds, for you know that the testing of your faith produces steadfastness. And let steadfastness have its full effect, that you may be perfect and complete, lacking in nothing.” 1James 1:2-4 ESV

I’m struggling with “counting it all joy” these days, if I’m honest. I have once again been hospitalized for three days, weekend before last. It was the usual scenario where my family and I struggled to get the staff to realize something is truly wrong. I was in the kind of terrible pain I'd only experienced before when my ureter (the tube connecting the kidney to the bladder) was obstructed from endometriosis. And, belief me, it's a pain you never forget; the same as a kidney stone! The ER docs were kind, but a Turkish "hospitalist" came in to admit me to the hospital and his first words were, "There is no reason for your pain. In fact you should not be on any narcotics at all. I will take you off all of them and put you on Toradol (a drug similar in action to Advil, an anti-inflammatory given IV)”. Some of the medications he spoke of discontinuing were ones I’d been on for ten years because of severe chronic pain over my right kidney!

I very quickly told him I did not want him as my doctor. I told him despite multiple abnormalities which had been seen on two CT scans, he had come into my room already having decided there was nothing wrong with me. Mother went into "mother-mode" and said to this doctor, "Look, we've been dealing with Debbie's pain for twenty years now and almost every single time she’s come into the hospital you doctors disbelieve in her symptoms. Over and over we've gone through this and every single time Debbie has been shown to be seriously ill, usually with recurring endometriosis. We trust in what Debbie is saying." I was so touched by her fighting for me like that; it made me very proud to have her as my mom.

Thankfully, the pain resolved to a bearable level within about 48 hours. I was able to go home by late afternoon on Monday. Not before, however, a Doctor of Osteopath (whose bedside manner is blatantly spelled out in his name, which begins with Rud (pronounced rude)) had decided this earth-shattering pain I'd been suffering through was nothing more than a "spasm in my psoas muscle". Amazingly enough, this DO made the “psoas spasm” diagnosis despite two CT scans, an MRI and an Ultrasound showing the left kidney was hydronephrotic (which means it was bigger than it should be, as though something had been keeping the urine from empting from the kidney into the bladder. It also showed a narrowing of the ureter with dilatation above the narrowing, which would happen if there had been something pinching off the flow of the ureter, at least temporarily. Since this was exactly what had happened when my left ureter was obstructed by endometriosis ten and a half years ago, I wasn't surprised the pain was similar! They also found a mass on my right kidney. This they were concerned about and I was told to follow up with a specialist in a week or two.

I am praying hard, especially for peace about this, and doing my best to give these many worries over to my Loving Heavenly Father. I know all of this is in His tender care, but I find it hard to not be scared sometimes. When the pain starts heating up again and I’m trying hard not cry and praying hard for help to get through the worst of it, I can’t seem to stop this cycle of worries. I worry that local doctors won’t have the expertise to treat this (if it is endometriosis) because there are only ten cases of endometriosis of the kidney found world-wide in medical journals. Also, I hate the idea of having more surgery after having approximately twelve surgeries in the last twenty years. Please understand me; I don’t think I’m being faithless. I believe God deeply and intimately loves me and has only good in store for me. It’s just I’m so tired of having this awful pain day in and day out, and when the really agonizing pain occurs, I can hardly bear it.

All I can do is hold steadfast to the Truth of scripture exemplified by this verse, “Blessed is the man who remains steadfast under trial, for when he has stood the test he will receive the crown of life, which God has promised to those who love him.” 1James 1:12 ESV Holding onto the Truth is never a bad thing.

Cry of My Heart

While a Pediatric Intensive Care (PICU) nurse for eleven years, I was especially drawn to abused children, even though their needs are usually difficult to meet. Often, holding them close to my heart comforted these children. By cuddling them, I attempted to show them the love of God, loving them as He loves. Through caring for these lovely, but broken, little ones I came to understand Christ’s call to “become as little children.”

Most of the time I felt I wasn't making any difference. We'd have kids come in having been battered in unimaginable ways, we'd patch them back up, then the Department of Children and Family Services (DCFS) would oftentimes send them back to the environment they came from (in an effort to "preserve the family" even though this was killing the kid). Sometimes I'd wonder what the point was to it all. (This came home to me dreadfully when I had a 3yo little boy who'd been beaten until he almost died by his mom. DCFS sent him to live with his maternal grandma “where he’ll be safe”. Unfortunately, his mother lived with the grandma! The grandma frequently came to visit this little guy and was sweet as honey when staff was in the room. Yet I’d caught her yelling at him more than once when she thought no one was around. He was in a PTSD state and would flinch and cringe when she approached him. I conveyed these concerns to DCFS but it didn’t matter. On discharge day he clung to me crying and had to be forcibly put in his grandma’s arms. It was heartbreaking!) Anyway, I grew terribly discouraged. In the past few years, though, I have come to understand that the love I gave, in all its simplicity, DID make a difference. Often, the love I had to give to abused children was more than they had experienced in their short, painful lives.

I’d like to tell the story of two children who changed my life forever, making me a better nurse and, more importantly, a better person. I’ll call them Hope and Grace, for that is what they taught me.

Hope was a two-year-old with a history of horrendous parental abuse, which led to removal from her mother’s home and placement in foster care with an aunt. One of her cousins was jealous of the attention Hope received, so he gave her a bottle filled with rubbing alcohol (she was somewhat developmentally delayed and still bottle-fed). When she gagged and wouldn’t drink it, he poured it down her throat. She arrived at our hospital in kidney failure and required multiple rounds of dialysis, as well as intubation and ventilation to manage her airway until she stabilized. After several days Hope was well enough to be transferred to the Intermediate Care Unit. It was my day to work in this unit and I was assigned to care for her.

When I walked into the room, I found her tied down by soft restraints, crying as if her heart would break. I removed the restraints but had to replace them immediately when she began screaming, pulling her hair and banging her head against the side-rail of the crib. When I changed her diaper I was horrified to find hideous burn scars on her bottom, where she’d obviously been placed in scalding hot water. When I gently lifted her gown to listen for bowel sounds, to my disgust I found multiple wounds from cigarettes being put out on her belly as well as other healed scars all over her torso.

I setup a tub of warm water to wash her since she’d only had sponge baths during her stay on the unit to this point. However, when I attempted to put Hope into the bathtub, she screamed at an inhuman pitch. The look of sheer terror on her face, as she pulled her legs up all the way to her chest, was heart-breaking. Since the burns on her perineum were old and well-healed, I had not expected her terrified reaction (although I should have). I put her down beside the tub and began to play in the water, splashing in it until she began to laugh, dimpling as she looked up into my face. She eventually wanted to join in the silliness and reached her hands in to splash me. I laughed back into her gamin face. Slowly and, oh so carefully, I was finally able to put her in the water to gently bathe her.

After her bath, I fixed her a bottle of formula and cuddled her in a rocking chair. I sang “Jesus Loves the Little Children” and “Jesus Loves Me” to her. As she went to sleep in my arms, tears slipped down my cheeks. I snuggled with her for a long time, weeping with sorrow for her suffering and with rage at a world that allows this to happen to “the least of these.”

Later, by God’s good grace, I realized the songs of love I sang that night brought as much comfort to me as they did to her. I believe I was able to show her that not everyone is bad and that it is safe to trust others, if only a little. Hope was transferred off the unit to the regular floor and was eventually discharged into another foster home. I never saw her again.

A few years later, little Grace came under my care. Grace was a twenty-month-old, blue-eyed beauty with curly brown hair and the lovely chubbiness of a well-fed and cared-for child. However, Grace’s mother (in one of the most frequent scenarios of child abuse) had met and fallen in love with a man who had no interest in Grace, except to make her life as hell-filled as possible. Since Grace was not his child, he decided that she didn’t deserve to live, except as a recipient of his sadistic tendencies. Grace’s mother valued her relationship with her boyfriend more than her relationship with her child and chose to ignore his horrifying, abusive behavior toward Grace.

One evening, Grace was left alone with the boyfriend for the night. Shortly thereafter, an ambulance was called and the baby was brought to the hospital with a severe head-injury. Upon arrival in the emergency room, she was thought to be brain dead. She was placed on a ventilator, while the doctors tried to convince the family that there was no hope. Finally, it was decided to do a perfusion study to determine whether her brain was receiving oxygen, and she was transferred to the PICU.

I requested to care for Grace but had no idea what I was getting myself into. The ER nurse gave me Grace’s horrifying medical history, which included the head injury, burns, broken bones, and bite marks. Then she quietly explained that the baby had been brutally sexually assaulted, as well. Because the baby was so desperately ill, I had a great deal of work to do, so, I tried to focus on the task at hand and not on the broken bit of humanity before me.

Once the scan was completed, the specialist decided to withdraw life support and let her die. Normally, the parents are a big part of this process, since it’s their last chance to say goodbye, but Grace’s mother was reluctant to watch her die. Eventually, she agreed to be in the room but stood three feet away from the foot of the crib. She repeated the same words over and over, “Is she dead yet?” She wouldn’t touch the baby, so I placed my hand under the sheet, stroking Grace’s leg, as she lay dying. Her mother left the room before Grace’s heart stopped beating, so I was able to pick her up in my arms and hold her until her life had ebbed away. Cuddling Grace, I whispered, “I love you and God loves you. You are precious and beautiful.”

As I held her, I felt the Lord’s presence in the room as she passed from my arms into the arms of her heavenly Father. I felt comforted knowing that she was now in the presence of an all-encompassing love and would never again experience suffering. I also felt the Lord’s nearness and love for me as I began one last act of love, preparing her poor, broken body for burial.

As I tried to sleep that night, I couldn’t get her beautiful burned face out of my mind. I was terrified of returning to work and that awful suffering. I sat in my car the next morning, afraid to go in and desperately praying that I would never again see such pain and suffering. I knew this wasn’t a rational fear. Child abuse usually doesn’t involve the utter destruction of a child’s body, thus the chances of my having to witness anything similar to Grace’s case was infinitesimally small.

However, rationality doesn’t always win. I felt terrified. This was the hardest thing I had ever experienced. I had never seen so many gruesome injuries concentrated on one small body. A week later, after going through this panic-filled prayer on a daily basis, I quit my job and my profession. I couldn’t face the fear and the helpless knowledge that nothing I could do would prevent another Grace.

After several months of menial jobs, I was able to talk to a friend, Melissa, about Grace. Until then, I couldn’t voice the horror I’d felt. Even though I relived it daily in my memories, I just couldn’t let it out. God, in His grace, gave me the courage to finally speak of it, and Melissa’s response comforted me. She believed that Grace would remember she was loved in the final moments of her life, and that Grace would recognize me in eternity. Melissa said, “She’ll come running up to you and lift her arms to be cuddled once again by the one who gave her love in the last moments of life.”

With these words, I began healing. In a few more months, I returned to nursing. Although I struggled for months, I sensed God’s presence. His love would not let me go. My nursing abilities are the greatest gifts God has given me. Through the Lord’s love and mercy, He has given me the grace and the strength to continue nursing, although in a different area.

Telling these stories is difficult; reading them must also be so. Although the extreme abuse I saw in Hope and Grace does not occur daily for a pediatric nurse, working with abuse victims is always emotionally draining. Most nurses are socialized to be clinical and emotionally detached. While some emotional distance is necessary to enable us to be objective, I believe that victims of abuse experience healing when we love them enough to allow ourselves to feel their suffering. This doesn’t mean taking on their suffering, because that is not what God would have us do, but we need to help lighten their load.

Holding and loving Hope and Grace made a difference in their lives. Had I not held them, the tragedy of their existence would have been compounded. While it caused me greater pain than I had ever experienced in my life and, indeed, almost cost me my profession, I am thankful that God gave me the strength and courage to do this work. How grateful I am to Him for making these children the cry of my heart.

Epilogue:

Since this story was published in the Journal of Christian Nursing, Fall 2002, I’ve again left the nursing profession, this time permanently, I think. I love kids and love pediatric nursing and long to be back in it, but just cannot meet the physical demands of the job due to the terrible pain I have each day. Perhaps someday the Lord will bring in healing and I will be able to return to this important and well-loved work that has been my life.

Oh yeah, about that new job...

Just to update, since it's been a whole year since I last posted. I was fired from the job I wrote of this time last year when my supervisor found out I had a chronic illness (ie the reason she gave was absenteeism). I am no longer working and have become completely disabled due to ongoing pain issues. I wish so much I could return to the job I've always loved and which God has gifted me to do, caring for critically-ill kids! Unfortunately I've struggled to keep part-time jobs working simply as a secretary. I still have a current nursing license and hope one day to return to nursing, but for now I am left to simply wait upon the Lord. I am thankful for so much He's given me, including my life (pain and all), this beautiful morning, my family and friends, etc. I would be homeless on the streets if it weren't for my family, so really I have a great deal to be thankful for.

ER & other medical blogs

My brother sent me the link to this blog coz he knew I've always been interested in emergency/critical care. While the language is a bit more robust than I'm comfortable with, it's fascinating reading. I've always enjoyed the non-fiction books written by paramedics and ER nurses telling of true-life experiences; this is like getting a daily dose! It's also given me an increased desire to write of my own experiences as a pediatric ICU nurse. We'll see what happens...

Enjoying work

I started a new job in April of this year. In the beginning it was pretty difficult because there was a significant period of adjustment; moreso than other jobs I've held. I've left the nursing field to work as a secretary at the University near my hometown. It's way less stress and great benefits altho' the pay is not nearly as good as in nursing. Still it's worth it! I'm happier in my current job than I've been in a long time.

I just had my 4 month evaluation (there is a 6 month probationary period) and I did great. It was nice to get perfect scores on everything and hear the wonderful feedback from my supervisor, Angie. My first eval was much harder, mostly 'cause I didn't know what to expect, I guess. Plus I'm pretty much a perfectionist in the work setting and I wasn't happy hearing negative things about me. To have Angie tell me how pleased she was in my performance, it was great! Here's hoping I'll be able to have another great eval in October so I can pass my probation.

Walking by faith...

I have to say talking with Jocelyn made me long to return to school so I could find a permanent vocation; one in which I would find joy in helping others and in doing my job to the best of my abilities. I think to really love your career you should not only enjoy the work but you should feel respected and valued in it. I want to be a part of a team that seeks to help each other and others in whatever way we can. Whether this will be in the secretarial or nursing field (or perhaps neither/both) only the Lord knows.

I am so happy to have a job I enjoy doing; to work with persons I respect and appreciate. There are so many things I've learned and I get such a kick out of doing just about everything. It's especially fulfilling to feel as though I'm needed. I feel such a sense of the Lord Jesus using this position to bring about adjustment in my life, whether it’s how those I work with view me or how I interact with customers who may be angry or my having to work through a misunderstanding. It’s all a wonderful opportunity for growth and maturity, from a spiritual perspective, if I let it. The really blessed thing is I am drawn to pray so much more and I am thankful for this!

Sadly, I've found in the past that some jobs I’ve held, though I attempt to live my life according to the Golden Rule (“Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.”), this is somehow misconstrued as “sucking up” to persons. As a Christian my desire is to bless others especially since I’ve been so blessed myself. (Sort of a “share the wealth” viewpoint!) :-) No matter how I am treated I believe it’s my responsibility to treat others with dignity and respect and to bless them by letting them know how I value them whenever I have the opportunity. I will continue to do this despite what persons think both in my private and professional life since this is what I feel called to do in my Christian walk.

Josie & my day out

Today my niece, Josie, & I went out to lunch at a crepe restaurant around the corner from where I work. Josie had proscuitto and mozzarella crepe and I had a mozzarella and gruyere cheese crepe, then she got a nutella crepe for dessert and I had my usual banana, gruyere and honey crepe. We took the dessert crepes back to work with us so we could enjoy them as an afternoon snack. Josie really like her crepe, but though mine tasted good, it was so rich I couldn’t finish it. There were large chunks of fresh mozzarella in it and altogether it was a bit too much.

It was really nice to spend some time with Jos and to talk over cares and concerns. I'm always blown away by the wisdom my nieces and nephews show despite their youth; in some ways it puts me to shame how much I have to learn from them. I’m also ashamed because I so enjoy the children when I spend time with them, yet I make so little effort to meet with them! Josie is just starting a new job at a local goat dairy (in north-Champaign) and will be working part-time at her current job and part-time at the dairy through the summer than going full-time at the dairy in the fall. It sounds like a great opportunity and Josie’s happy she’s following her heart. The dairy owner wants to teach her how to make the cheeses the dairy is famous for along with milking and other chores, so Jos is really excited about it.

I'm back...

I just saw my niece, Josie, is back to blogging and it's inspired me to try and start again. So here goes...

Under the category of (somewhat) recent news in my family:

Nils and Emily are officially engaged and are hoping to be married on September 16th or 18th (or at least those are the dates which have been mentioned). They are looking for a home to rent, at least for the first few years.

Britta and Roger just celebrated their first anniversary by going to Turkey Run Inn and spending Lord's Day night there.

Steve and Michele have been going through a lot of changes-->Steve has a new job at Abbott Labs, they've bought a new house in Fox Lake, IL, and Michele is busy trying to figure out what colors to use, etc. It's a four bedroom home with a basement so they'll have plenty of room for a change.

Danny is back in Tennessee after working for a few months at a job in Waukegan, IL. He didn't like the work, nor the community, as well as Tennessee so when his old company offered him a better job, he took it. He's also purchased a new home in Franklin, TN. Both Steve & Dan are the first Obergs to buy new homes since my parents did it back it in 1971, I think!

We had fellowship meetings this past weekend with Scotie Selman. I did my usual disappearing act, unfortunately. I broke a front tooth on Saturday morning and was too embarrassed to be seen by persons outside the family. Stupid on my part since I missed some really good meetings, and no-one cares what I look like, anyway. On the bright side, I did go out to meeting the weekend prior to this past one and had a really good time. Jeff & Mother were running a little behind and since this is unusual for them, Linda began to wonder why. Just as she thought, "Maybe Debbie's coming out to meeting, and this is why they're behind," I walked through the door. Funnily enough, I WASN'T the cause of their lateness, since I took a different car. Oh my reputation!

The other big news is I have been hired for a full-time position at the U. of I. I simply have to pass my six-month probation, and would value your prayers in this regard. It's in the Office of Continuing Education and I really enjoy the people I work with and the work I do. Most of all, I enjoy the fact that I have plenty of work to keep me busy. I am really thankful to have this position and have been blessed in not having to much time, etc. Each day is a new experience and for this I am deeply grateful.

Well, this is all I can think of for now. Oh, except Benjamin and Lars have gotten their driving licenses! Hooray for them! Oh, but how quickly they've grown...

More later

End of the Spear Movie Review

I went to see End of the Spear on Thursday afternoon. I'd been wanting to see it because it's based on the tragic, yet beautiful story, of five missionary men who gave their lives to reach the Auca (or Waodani), an Ecuadorian Indian tribe, with the Gospel. Multiple family members of the men ended up living with the tribe, with the killers of their family members; some for a few weeks, others for years (one, Rachel Saint, a sister to Nate Saint, for THIRTY years-->basically spending the rest of her life with them). By doing this, giving the ultimate gift of forgiveness, they became an integral part of the redemption of the Auca, most importantly saving souls, but also keeping them from becoming extinct.

I have to say I was pretty upset when I saw the reviews of this movie. It just seemed it was being whole-heartedly condemned, not because it was a poorly made film, but because it was a "Christian" movie. The other part that really bothered me was the choice of the lead character in the movie; a man who has used his prestige as an actor to promote the homosexual lifestyle at every opportunity, especially to young people. This bothered me, not so much because he is taken up with sin and has no remorse or desire to leave it (because, after all, we are called to love one another, i.e. ‘love the sinner, hate the sin’). It concerned me because I felt the controversy this choice stirred up would end up detracting from the story. We so need to hear the story of these men’s lives and deaths, and how this led to the redemption of an entire people, in these days of violence, selfishness, lust and fear. Ironically, the Waodani didn’t want to have this story be put into a movie format, because they didn’t want to promote themselves. However, after hearing of Columbine and the way so many of America’s young people are losing their lives to violence, they decided they needed to let the movie be made, as a way of ministering to the people of America. Thus their story came full circle!

Now, having seen the movie, I came away feeling thankful the story is being told, but also disappointed. It really wasn’t as well made as I hoped it would be, mainly due to the dramatic changes made by the filmmakers. The story is such a great story as it is, so there was no need to add drama to it, especially since it lent a sense of unreality to an otherwise real story. There is a highly dramatized scene at the end of the movie between “Steve Saint” and “Mincayani” which was particularly difficult to believe, especially knowing the truth of their relationship.

For the most part, it was beautifully filmed, but the sound track was a little distracting, in particular when it was trying to convey a sense of tension (the native singing & beating drums were a little patronizing to the story and the Waodani, I felt). I didn’t feel Chad Allen made a very convincing Nate or Steve Saint, despite a good effort. It was just too hard not to see him for what he is, a homosexual activist trying to play the part of a good man who gave up all he was for Christ’s sake. Finally, I wish they’d done a better job of showing the interactions of Elizabeth Elliott and Rachel Saint with the Aucas, especially in their attempts to convey the Gospel.

Probably the most moving part of the movie, but the most difficult to watch, (& I shouldn’t be spoiling anything here because it is well known these men were martyred) was when the missionaries were killed by the Aucas. If I were worried about what people thought of me, I would have been really embarrassed because I couldn’t help crying out in grief as I watched this. It was almost too much, knowing this had truly happened; it physically caused my heart to ache.

I can’t recommend this movie whole-heartedly, simply because of the untruths in it. As I said before, it is a powerful story, in it’s simplicity. and there was no need to detract from it by adding incidents that didn’t happen, just for dramatic effect. I CAN recommend the documentary film, “Beyond the Gates of Splendor” by the same director. This is an excellent retelling of the story from the mouths of the persons involved, including the killers of the missionaries; Mincayani being one of them. It is a simple, but moving and beautiful documentary; well worth seeing!

Changes in the family

My brother, Steve, and his wife, Michele, recently moved from Indiana to Crystal Lake, IL, after almost four years in Upland, IN. It's nice to have them nearer to Michele's parents, especially when Michele isn't feeling so well. They seem to like where they live very much and, tho' Steve wasn't too excited about resuming the work he'd left in order to move to Indiana (his old company hired him back), it was important for them to be closer to family. It's also nice that they aren't having to go so short of money all of the time, since he's paid a better salary with the current job. Of course, living in the Chicago-area means they will have a much higher cost of living!

Mother and I hope to go up there one weekend this month so that Steve, Michele, Keegan (their oldest) and Michele's parents and brother can go to the Blue Man Group show. We'll watch the three youngest kids for them, so they can all have an evening out. I'm really looking forward to seeing all of the kids.

Also, my twin brother Dan has accepted a job in Waukegan, IL, which will mean that he's about three hours nearer to us than where he currently lives, near Nashville. I'm really glad he's gotten what sounds like a great job, but he'd also interviewed at a local hospital (near our hometown) and I'd gotten my hopes up that he'd move back home. So, honestly & selfishly, I was a little disappointed, as well. I miss him a great deal since he is my closest friend in the family; not just biologically! :) I guess I feel ambivalent; I'm really thankful that he is progressing in his career, but wish he was closer to home. At least, he IS much closer to home, just not as close as I'd like. Oh well, God knows our needs and is there to comfort when we're feeling lost and alone.

White Sox (booo)

No, really I'm glad for those poor South-siders! It's good that they finally get some joy in their lives! I have to say, tho', that I'm really hopeful that the Cards will overcome their post-season slump and get into the Series. If they do get in, I'll definitely be rooting for the Cards to win. Despite having lived in the Chicago-area for so many years, I’ve always loved the Cards (mainly because the town I grew up in was made up of Card fans being so much closer to St. Louis than to Chicago). I’m currently an avid Cub’s fan and have been for a long time. There's just something about their being perennial losers which makes me long for them to win. I know some day the Cubbies will win it all, so until that day comes, I’ll keep on cheering them on. Never will I switch to the Sox!

Update on Linda

I few months ago I spoke of my sister-in-law, Linda, and how she’d fractured her elbow. I thought I’d write an update for anyone who’s been praying for her. The initial recommendation was that she’d need to have surgery to repair the radial head (the point where the forearm meets the elbow). However, when she was seen by the orthopod, he said they could try to just leave it to heal by itself since the bones were aligned relatively correctly. He said if it didn’t work, they could then do the surgery.

Well, it turns out that she’s done fairly well, at least so far. She’s an extremely courageous and tough person and has gone these few months without even a splint on her arm. She’s gained increasing movement and is almost back to normal now, praise God.

Mother

My Mother has gone through some recent tough times with severe arthritis in her right knee. The specialist initially thought it was just tendonitis (extremely painful but should heal by itself) but they did a CT scan and this showed she also had the arthritis. Turns out she’s somewhat bow-legged and this has caused the arthritis to be much more severe than usual. The orthopod said that she’d need to have knee replacements (probably in both knees) in a year or so, but that she should try and hold off as long as possible. She’s struggled with a great deal of pain in that knee, however, and recently asked her doctor why she had to wait so long for a replacement if they already know that it’ll have to be done. Her doctor explained that knee replacement joints usually only last ten years so they try to put off doing it for as long as possible to avoid having to do it more than once.

I think it’s harder for Mother to except this because she’s already had one joint replacement when she fractured her elbow more than fifteen years ago. She’s had almost no problems with that elbow since so it makes it harder to accept that she’d have problems with the knee. I think, in some ways, that it would be better for her to have the surgery now when she’s relatively healthy, but it’s not my choice to make, obviously. Please pray for her.

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.