living with ghosts

Memory loss is a strange thing to live with. It doesn’t bother me most of the time because, frankly, I don’t remember what I’m missing. Sometimes it makes me sad and sometimes I dream about people I think I should know but it’s not all that bad. Sometimes, it’s even fun. Today I got to meet an old friend for the very first time.  

-Zonoma

Then GOD

I’m supposed to be dead (or at least drooling).

In recovery 6/2003

Nearly ten years ago, I was diagnosed with a brain tumor that should have left me a drooling, limping parody of myself, assuming I lived. Instead, God healed me and when they opened me up they found only a desiccated and calcified mass where there had been a viable, entrenched tumor only the day before. That isn’t the story I want to tell today but it is important that you know I experienced a very real physical healing. 

I have been healed. I understand the power of a good and gracious God and of accepting whatever it is that God allows to come your way. I understand how to give thanks in bad circumstances. Then, as so many of us do, I forgot.

Sometimes, that’s what happens after the miracle.

I had a lot to live for.

The fourteen hour surgery in which they used a chisel to pick away at the now-dead tumor had some pretty severe consequences. I left the hospital with a new diagnosis: epilepsy. I had terrible seizures. They left me breathless, panting and paralyzed on the entire right side of my body for hours and hours at a time. I would only start to regain some tiny fraction of movement in my fingers and toes before the next seizure would hit. I was devastated. This new fear was more than I could handle – not knowing when or where the next one would strike was horrible. It was days before they found the right cocktail of drugs to control these attacks and, when they did, the medicines were awful in their own right and caused me to gain weight, lose my hair, and – eventually- fall into a deep depression.

Enough background. More story.

Trauma opens doors to things that Jesus came to free us from and Christians fall prey to things like depression and fear, too. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. While everyone who knew my story up to that point was still singing praises to God for the miracle, my life was absolutely ruled by fear. I never knew when the next seizure would strike and I lived for two years as a shut in- afraid to drive, afraid to boil water unless another adult was home for fear my toddler would try and ‘help’ if I had a seizure and burn himself or his brother. My nightmares were endless. Instead of being thankful for the miracle, I began to resent God for the seizures. I was okay with dying, but that wasn’t good enough for God! And, instead of becoming a drooling, limping parody of myself, I became an embittered and hateful perversion of myself.

Then God.

Then God  (and now you know the story gets good because now it is His) had mercy on me: this bitter, tangled and scribbled-on creation of His. He found me standing over a pile of dirty underwear, with a fist full of dryer lint and whispered, “This is not who I intended you to be.”  He told me to get over my fear and remember what I was called to: the hope, the courage, the joy, the sheer glory that was Him. When I worried my husband would leave me (because isn’t that the curse of women and the great lie of the enemy?) God told me that He would take care of my children and I because we belonged to Him and He didn’t need a husband to do it. Then, I can’t describe it in any other way, except that He breathed courage into me.

I began to obey. I started training my children as if every day were my last, I started praying again, I started studying the Word, remembering.  I started living thankfully again. Do you know what happened after I began to obey and give thanks? God healed me of the epilepsy, too. But that isn’t the biggest miracle. Let me show you something- When I was preparing this entry, I found an old journal and this excerpt from August of 2003, struck me as somewhat prophetic:

“Everybody looks into the mirror but nobody notices the mirror itself. They are naturally drawn to the image reflected in the surface. So through this [difficult season], my 'look-at-me' personality must be sure to say instead 'look-at-God'. All it takes is a little tilt. God is, perhaps, trying to shift my axis."                                                                 

I firmly believe that the biggest miracle I have seen in my life is this heart-change, this shift of my axis, this turn to thankfulness and obedience, this God-life that now thrives where my broken life used to flail its tiny, closed fists against the world. This God-Life is a restored and healthy marriage, it is children who love and are loved, it is a broken dream re-made, it is a renewed call to ministry, it is a second chance to reflect what is important instead of what is broken. It is the ability to find what God is doing in the middle of this messy world and get on board.

So, if we are mirrors- and we are!- what do we reflect? Do we reflect the troubles, strife, and ugly ingratitude of this world? Or do we reflect God and all that comes with Him? Justice and mercy, unbridled joy and soul-rending sorrow, humble obedience and fearless pursuit of the Father’s Will? Is it possible to change our axis? I believe so because I’ve lived it. It took years, but I was finally able digest the enormity of what happened to me and the lessons learned from that season are so far-reaching that they still show up in my own desert places, fresh manna for today. And I am so very thankful for it. 

Why is this so important to me? First and foremost, this idea of giving thanks was important to Jesus.

Eucharisteo – It is found throughout the New Testament 39 times. To offer a little perspective, the word euangelion which is most often translated with phrases like, “Good News” and “gospel” only appears 76 times in the New Testament and that's the theme of the New Testament!.  Jesus gave thanks often and publicly, as well as often and privately, to God. It’s enough to make someone wonder why.

I think it stems from the Garden where ingratitude and distrust became the foundation from which Satan launched his assault on this world. When we remember to thank God – for the small, specific things as well as the bigger, broader strokes – it loosens Satan’s hold on us. For that matter, if we give thanks we are no longer reflecting what is wrong in our lives but what is Good and what is God. We reflect God’s goodness into this dark world! We loosen Satan’s hold on the world and thankfulness becomes a vessel of the Kingdom of God – putting God’s rule and reign front and center in our lives for any who care to see.

When we can find something to be thankful for, it opens our eyes to another and another and another. It is in these seemingly barren landscapes that our souls are nourished. It is when this broken and messed up world tries to starve our spirits that God sends manna from Heaven and we can choose to eat it and be nourished or to close our hands and hearts to what He brings and waste away. It is in these difficult times we learn that God is good, all the time, no matter what is happening around us and even to us. 


You are invited to the table. Come and eat. The meals here in the Kingdom are never the served the same way twice.

mirror, mirror

"Everybody looks into the mirror but nobody notices the mirror itself. They are naturally drawn to the image reflected in the surface. So through this [difficult season], my 'look-at-me' personality must be sure to say instead 'look-at-God'. All it takes is a little tilt. God is, perhaps, trying to shift my axis."

-Zonoma

8/17/2003

in the springtime, when kings go to war

I found myself falling in the last few months, putting off my quiet times until “later” and “after the kitchen is cleaned” or “after the chickens are fed” until “later” becomes an exhausted realization as I close my eyes that the day is over and I never connected. It’s become a nightly ritual, “God? I’m so sorry. There’s no excuse. Let’s meet tomorrow.” Except that the next day is no better. I rush from meeting to meeting, chore to chore, and then –zombie-like – I flip from channel to channel and fall asleep again, apologies on my lips. 

This morning, as I was trying to scrape together enough energy to take a shower, I asked, “God, what’s wrong with me?” Immediately, a verse came to mind and with it came a disturbing understanding.

“In the springtime, when kings go to war.” (2 Samuel 11:1)

I don’t know about you, but anytime the Spirit answers me with the opening salvo to David’s biggest “oops” I sit up and take notice. Honestly, I didn’t think I was that bad off. And maybe I’m not. But the choices I’m making are becoming consistently more self-centered and less God-centered. I suppose that’s what happened with David, too. Not only David but countless men and women who were following God and then woke up one morning to realize that, simply put, they weren’t. Not where God wanted them to go, anyway.

If I am so out of step with God that I cannot even recognize my disobedience for what it is, then you might as well call me David because when we stop chasing God’s heart we don’t stop chasing. We simply chase other things. We end up completely unfulfilled at the close of the day, wondering, “God, where were you today?” Worse, we may wake up in a bed where we don’t belong, or engaging in activities that we shouldn’t, or enslaved to addictions that God didn’t choose for us. All these things- every one of them- begin (for believers) by not being where we are supposed to when we are supposed to be there. In the springtime, kings go to war. In the springtime, husbands go home to their wives. In the springtime, mothers care for their sons. In the springtime, ministers put down their ‘work’ and go home to the greater covenant- their families. In the springtime, children spend time with their fathers.

Except that I have not. Life has been so good, so pleasant, so mild. I’ve spent far too long on the rooftop admiring the stars and the still air instead of going inside to spend time with my Father. I’ve committed many good things to my heart and the Spirit gives me insight, discernment, wisdom, and knowledge. These I carry with me. My Father still speaks to me and uses me. During the springtime, I prayed for people and they were healed!  But it’s not enough. I need HIM. I need the daily, intentional contact- beyond the prayer (because I pray all day long)- I need to take time to snuggle with my Daddy, to listen to His voice not because I’m trying to discern the right path but because I love His voice.

And I do. I do so very, very much love His voice. It is the only melody that can soothe this ache deep within my soul. How I’ve missed it so! My life has become a series of transactions without His infusion of Grace and –now that I recognize it – I find it repugnant, unacceptable. I want to go back to living within the symphony of His plan, instead of the harsh monotonous monologue of mine own plan. It is a far, far more beautiful existence that he has for me and I will only experience it if I choose to go where He calls each and every day, beginning with the long silences on the little white couch in my studio. It’s springtime, and it’s time for this “king” to get off the rooftop and “go to war”. 

Thoughts on Freedom

Freedom requires courage.

We are never truly free until we can look into a mirror and evaluate ourselves with honest eyes. We must know both our strengths and our faults to understand our limitations. Why do we need to understand our limitations, though, aren't we discussing freedom?

A caged bird might long to take wing and soar the skies but cannot. In a similar manner, a penguin might wish to fly but cannot. The difference is that one was created to fly and the other was not. Understanding our limitations is freedom, in a very real sense of the word. The penguin who understands what he was created for happily dances in the water and lets the other birds take the sky. He doesn't exchange the goodness and bounty of the open ocean for a life of pining away, watching the gulls, or jealous sulking.

Is this to say that we cannot dream? No! We are dreamers by nature, we need our dreams to challenge us to higher heights or - for those of us who are penguins - to deeper depths. As a girl I dreamed of flying - Top Gun was my favorite movie and I had my sights set on attending the Naval Academy and never mind that women were not allowed to join, that my eyesight was sub-par. I knew I was supposed to be a pilot. Now I am a mother and, while I am still free to remember my girlhood dreams fondly and even pursue a pilot's license, I am not allowed to indulge in the idolatry of regret because freedom requires seeing the landscape before us rather than constantly peering behind us.

So then, freedom also requires truth and freedom without truth is no freedom at all. Truth is frightening, though, and truth about ourselves is the scariest of all. Where do we find the courage for this undertaking, this quest? What force can compel us forward? What power can convince us to uncover the Mirror of Truth and gaze upon that heartless surface? I know of only one.

Who, but the person who understands that they are loved and accepted, can face the truth about herself?

Courage requires love.

The love that courage can stand on is rock steady. The love that courage requires sees a person's faults and doesn't love that person in spite of them but because of them. Our faults make us who we are, too, because what are faults but misdirected strengths? (Don't confuse 'faults' with 'sins' as that is an entirely different matter.) Perhaps this is our primary purpose here on this earth. Perhaps this is how the Kingdom of God sneaks into the world as gently as a sleeping infant and as inevitable as springtime after winter. Perhaps it is our purpose to love those around us so completely that it is nothing to say, "Yes, you are boorish and pushy but that's just because you haven't figured out where to direct all that passion yet. I love you." Perhaps it is our job to love with a love that doesn't excuse sin but understands why it is there, "Yes, I see you drinking and squandering away your life with drugs but that is because you have lost your way. I love you."

If we can love the people around us as God calls us to do, then the Spirit will be faithful to work within them the courage to peek at Truth. Who knows? Maybe they, too, will be set free. We will never know unless we are willing to put ourselves aside and provide a foundation of love for fledgling courage to stand upon.


Freedom requires love.

bad day

Yesterday was a good day. The fog lifted and the clouds parted and, for a few moments, I was able to see the goal - my fondest hope, that elusive city on a hill - and move forward with a smile on my face.

Today the mists have returned, as dense and miserable as they ever were, and I am utterly lost with the whispers of my heart and the loving nature of my God as my only guides  through this dejection and anger. The dejection is actually easier to handle than the anger. I can speak with it and keep putting one foot in front of the other as the path presents itself. The anger is trickier. I can't escape it and suspect that I may need its services to survive the coming days but, for now,  it is a siren luring me into actions and words I know I will regret later. It is so compelling, though, and it feels good. 

Today is a bad day.

-Zonoma

hope is hard

How can one live on the razor's edge between heartbreak and hope? It is living as a whisper within a world where profanity is not spelled out in syllables but in decibels. It is wanting to weep where tears are forbidden and longing to laugh where smiling is taboo. It is carrying a terrible sickness and having the antidote, too.

It is quiet here in this place.

-Zonoma