Healing a Sick Guinea Pig

Six-year-old Nibbles has always been an eater, ferociously devouring any piece of lettuce, fruit, or hay that lands in her cage. She begs by whistling at the sound of the refrigerator door opening. She's been labeled overweight by the vet. When she stopped pooping, the kids and I knew something was up.

We've been down this road before, and the prescription was watered-down canned pumpkin, which worked like a charm. It wasn't doing the trick this time, and Nibbles was getting bony. I noticed that she stopped drinking from her water bottle, and even eating. 

Did you know it's hard to find a vet that will see a guinea pig? I assumed when we got her that we could just show up at any old vet's office. However, guinea pigs and hamsters are considered "exotic" pets, and most veterinarians aren't experienced in treating them. Fortunately, I had found one who did know about guineas, and felt confident helping them to a point. 

He is a thorough, gentle, kind man, who took a lot of time with Nibbles. He started with her teeth, clipping them, as guinea pigs' teeth grow constantly, and must be worn down. Unfortunately, this didn't help, and by this time I was mashing up her hay pellets and mixing them with water to feed her from a syringe.  Guinea pigs must have hay, and when they refuse to eat, they have to be force fed, or will die. No pressure!  Dr. McKee also advised feeding her first-steps baby food, like green beans or sweet potatoes. 

Nibbles hated this. I'd wrap her up tightly in a towel, burrito style, put her against my knees, and feed her food out of one syringe, and water through another. I'd mix the pureed hay pellets and baby food, and do this four times a day. It became exhausting, and she continued to lose weight instead of improving. Dr. McKee sedated her and filed down her back teeth. I was hopeful, yet we continued with this tiring routine to no avail. After nine days, he referred us to a vet who knew more about complicated guinea pig issues. I was grateful for Dr. McKee and his staff, and that he had been able to rule out the basics.

Evidently, Dr. Bolt is famous in western North Carolina for his work with birds, and his knowledge about exotic pets. I had been unaware of this. In fact, I was fast realizing my ignorance about the intricate workings of guinea pigs, and the problems their teeth can create as they age. Who knew how complicated all of this was going to get?! The Sweeten Creek Animal and Bird Hospital was able to squeeze us in late last Friday, and I was at the end of my rope. I knew I had to do what I needed to do for poor Nibbles, but I was feeling cross-eyed. 

That Friday was cold, and a light snow was even falling when I arrived, tired yet hopeful, at this tiny, unassuming clinic. In the lobby, I overheard the receptionist talking to the owner of a bearded dragon who was dying. I saw a poster covering the intricate systems of "avian anatomy." It seemed this was indeed a hospital for sick animals of all kinds. 

Let me digress a minute to note that during this time, some people who found out about all I was doing to save Nibbles said things like, "You're doing all of this for a guinea pig?" I wondered, what else was I supposed to do? I know fully that humans, not animals, are created in God's image. Our culture seems to think that animals are super-human. I think it's ridiculous when I see "Dog Grandparent" bumper stickers on cars, yet I had no doubt that it was my duty to do all I could for our pet. "He who is faithful in what is least is faithful also in much," says God's Word in Luke 16:10. I had not felt led to do otherwise, so I would press on in helping this poor, helpless creature. The love of a pet is a gift from God, and I had never bonded with Nibbles as during our feeding times, when I'd rest her under my chin and we'd sit in companionable friendship. Also, my children are always looking to me to model an example of godly living. This just felt right.

Dr. Bolt did what he could do on a late Friday afternoon, which was to thoroughly examine Nibbles, pronounce that she was indeed thin and needed to gain weight, and decide that a full tooth evaluation was a good place to start. The down side was that this exam had to wait until Tuesday, but the up side was that he produced a bag of Critical Care, a powder when mixed with water, is designed to replenish what sick animals have lost. 

This was a weekend during which we happened to be participating in a tennis tournament in Charlotte, to which I transported Nibbles back and forth. She nestled into a towel in a pink basket, and was a big hit with all the junior players and adults. Every four hours, I'd whip out the critical care, mix it in a little bowl, wrap up the piggy burrito, and squeeze the elixir into her mouth. 

Are we having fun yet?

By the time Monday rolled around, with 13 days of this system, an out-of-town trip, plus the time springing forward, I was really tired and losing hope. I wondered if Nibbles would ever eat on her own again, or if she even remembered that her water bottle was there. My efforts to point her food and drink out to her were futile. Tuesday morning, I arrived early at the animal hospital, dropped Nibbles off, thanked God for the energy to do all we had been able to do so far, and pray for wisdom for Dr. Bolt.

When we went back that afternoon to retrieve her, the vet was full of information. It was hard to keep up, but thankfully my children listen to detail and catch things I miss. Nibbles had a broken tooth that Dr. Bolt had extracted, but as guinea pig teeth are always growing, it would grow back. His instructions were for me to continue with the Critical Care 2-3 times daily, making "the gruel," as he called it, as pasty as it could be and still get through the syringe. I was not to worry about water, as she seemed hydrated again. She needed .4cc of pain medication daily, and a dab of a probiotic gel once a day, to settle her stomach. All of this was a bit much for me to take in, considering we had another tournament coming up, this time four hours away. 

Would Nibbles ever eat on her own again, or was she going to have to be fed via syringe for the rest of her life? That was my main concern. Would she ever remember her water bottle, still in its location, faithfully refilled in hopes that she'd return to it? Would she ever seek out hay or other solids on her own? I confess I was doubtful.  All we could do on Tuesday after her procedure was let her rest, as she was pitifully groggy from sedation.

Wednesday morning, we set some cut up strawberry before her and waited in anticipation. She ate some, all by herself! The girls and I watched enchanted as she took it in her mouth, chewed, and swallowed. Life's simple pleasures! Then, my daughter took a sizable hunk of lettuce and held it out. Nibbles inhaled it, and I couldn't believe how the big piece grew smaller and disappeared into the depths of her mouth, down the hatch! What hope! We continued to give her the critical care, and pray for her to soon return to her own water and her hay. 

This is the adorable mouth into which a syringe has been inserted regularly for over two weeks. She seems to know the drill!

Last night I was minding my own business typing something for my class on the computer, when I looked over at Nibbles in her cage. She was drinking from her water bottle! I called my husband, who came to view, and we hollered for the kids. After 15 straight days of ignoring all food and drink, Nibbles was on the mend! Our persistence and the help of two vets was paying off! 

Nibbles has rediscovered her water!

I went to bed last night with relief and fresh hope. This morning, I waited a while to see the latest developments. My husband had been out early, and reported that she had been drinking her water and....trying to eat her hay! I saw a glimmer of hope when I had been worried about dragging the poor gal to another tournament. With Nibbles attempting food on her own, I feel confident leaving her in the hands of her caregiver when we're out of town, our faithful friend, Burney. He sees to it that Nibbles is spoiled rotten when she goes to stay with him. She still requires Critical Care several times daily until her follow-up with Dr. Bolt next week, but it looks like Nibbles is officially on the mend. 

How grateful I am to God for pouring energy into me when I have no stores of my own. How glad I am for the lessons in perseverance, and for the companionship my children and I have shared with Nibbles and each other throughout this process. I'm glad to share this journey with readers who may end up in the same boat, whether with a guinea pig or any animal. Keep praying and asking God for wisdom. Love your furry friends. There are many ways to repair a wall!

Shame & Vulnerability

Aren't they serene? I have wished often for quietness of mind, and there's much behind this that I've discovered over the past few years. Currently, I'm wrestling through Curt Thompson's The Soul of Shame. This book is for everyone, since we are all sinners who deal daily with the effects of shame. Most people have no idea of the role that shame has played in our personal disintegration. 

As the Lord uproots this painful shame, I'm drawn to the call to be vulnerable with others and with Christ, rather than allowing certain situations to cause mental paralysis, or "stasis," as Thompson calls it. I've felt this often, the state of almost complete mental breakdown or fog when I feel shame. Just today an incident occurred that required my vulnerability with God, and I feel that it can be further brought into the light by sharing it with you.

One thing to note: It's true that "shameful" incidents aren't necessarily what the world would see as a big deal, or something that seems overly traumatic. The enemy is crafty in setting up years and decades of subtle shaming tactics. 

Because our move put us farther from our beloved Missio Dei Church, our family decided to start the process of finding a church closer to where we now live. As community is vital to vulnerability, we long to be close to our church, able to attend regular functions. We've been attending a church that we really like, and were there today. At the end of the service, my family exited ahead of me. I knew we needed to get home to have lunch and change before an outing the kids were taking, but stayed behind chatting with some kind ladies who had introduced themselves.

When I eventually turned to leave, I noticed that the line out the door was long; the pastor sits at the doorway and shakes everyone's hand as they exit. I realized it would take a while to reach the door if I stood at the end of the line, so I went to the side, bypassing the line. I saw a side door and considered going out of it, but being new, I feared ending up somewhere I didn't want to be, since we still don't know our way around the building. I decided the easiest move was to slip behind the pastor at the door, but this required me to also go past everyone in the line. 

When I reached the doorway I saw a dear acquaintance there with her kids, to whom I said a few words, and I also excused myself for going through the people. For a split second, I turned and faced the people in line, many of whom seemed to be looking at me. I caught a glimpse of Mrs. C--'s sweet, kind face. Suddenly, I had a horrible feeling: I looked like I was breaking in line to see the pastor, rather than simply slipping past the people and out the door to find my family! And just when I attempted to tiptoe behind him, he turned directly to me, and addressed me by name! I wanted to pass out from the shame of seemingly cutting in front of that whole line. Just when I thought I'd squeeze past everyone, Pastor M. looked me squarely in the face!

All I could think was, We're new, and those people will now recognize me as the Lady Who Cuts in Line! I felt sick, wondering why I hadn't gone through that blasted side door. I worried all the way home, feeling the crippling shame described by Dr. Thompson in his book. I knew God was inviting me to walk into this feeling with Him, to have a discussion about what's really happening in my heart. 

This seems to be how healing happens. When I recognize this feeling of shame, I must walk into it with Christ and others rather than suffocating in it alone. I sat by the archway in my new back yard in the sun, looking at the blue sky, green grass, and colorful flowers, and had a transparent talk with Jesus. I told him I worry about being like others who I've seen push their way to the front. I felt like I did twenty years ago when I did just that, and a lady called me on it. I felt like the whole church would now see me as the Lady Who Cuts In and is Inconsiderate (picture that in neon lights). I kept seeing Mrs. C--'s kind face, and Pastor M's, full of grace and understanding, entirely void of condemnation. 

I moved to the bench on my front porch and dared to ask God again to erase the incident (which I describe in detail in another post, God Erases), which led to more discussion. Do I hesitate to believe and receive this because it seems unbelievable? Aren't God's ways indeed infinitely past understanding? Do I feel like asking Him to (again) "erase" it is one time too many, and a copout to boot? If I know that He delights to give me bread and not a serpent, and that He is able to do exceedingly and abundantly above all that I think or ask, why do I hesitate to believe He'll "erase" again and again? Christ talked to His disciples about believing they'd receive, about not having because they didn't ask, and about how it delights the Father to give good gifts to His children.

What I'm writing in this blog is a transcript of a lot that I wrote in my journal. In the journaling part of this process, I was reminded about my friend Pastor Jim's comment to me a while back, that I was "overthinking" another certain situation. Perhaps that's the case here, too; maybe none of those people thought a thing of it. I probably wouldn't have, and if someone else told me this, I may even think it was funny, like something that would happen to Ben Stiller. But to me, who I believe I am is very real. When something bumps up against a shameful spot in my heart, I now want to get to the bottom of it, and stop being in bondage. 

I believe the devil has worked hard to convince me that I have no sense, no social skills, that I'm uncouth and uncultivated. The Lord whispers to me that my deep concern shows the opposite. He and I continued this discussion over ninety minutes. He's teaching me many things, leading me into freedom. I feel like I have to be put in certain situations in order to face my shame and move toward healing it. The very thing I don't want to feel is precisely what I have to face with vulnerability. And by the way...this goes for all of us.

From the mouth of My Savior:

"Ask, and you will receive, that your joy may be full." John 16:24

"If you ask anything in My name, I will do it." John 14:14

"...whatever things you ask when you pray, believe that you receive them, and you will have them." Mark 11:24

My soul is panting for Him, as the deer pants for water. May it always be so! 

Until next time...

God's Protection

I don't want to write a post about a man following my girls and me out of the library, but I feel a duty. You may be as oblivious as I was. I thought I always noticed people around us. I sometimes felt too cognizant of a loner in the park, or a strange-looking character in the store. It didn't occur to me that someone might follow us once we'd gotten into our vehicle. Thanks to a plain clothes policeman sent by the Lord, we escaped harm. I want you and your children to be safe as well.

We were in the library last week, about to leave, and were looking at a shelf of sale books right beside the entrance/exit. There's a big table beside this shelf where a policeman is usually stationed. We were almost through perusing when a man came in and stood to our left, presumably also looking at the books. I noticed he was odd-looking, with almost feminine facial features, as if wearing black eye-liner. His head was covered with a navy bandana, with black curls coming out underneath. He wore khaki shorts and some kind of sandals. His build was muscular, with hairy legs. 

Why did I notice all of this in just a few seconds? Probably because God wanted me to, and also because this guy was so noticeably different looking. Anyway, I moved my girls over, we looked maybe fifteen more seconds, then we left.

Evidently, so did he...right behind us.

I only know this because of the policeman who had indeed been at the table, but his plain clothes made him inconspicuous. As I was backing out of my parking space, he was standing by my window, beckoning. Only then did I notice the handcuffs and badge at his waist. He asked me to stay put for a minute, and asked if I had noticed the "weirdo" beside us at the bookshelf. "He acted like he was looking at the books," the cop said, "but, trust me, he was not looking at the books." A chill went through me, and I wanted to get sick.

Apparently, this policeman was at the table watching, and no one noticed him because he was sitting down in regular clothes, so his waist with his gear was hidden. He saw the man follow us out, and hightail it to his own car, which was parked in a different lot, across the street. We had parked behind the building. The cop said it seemed like the man was planning to follow me, so he wanted me to wait a few minutes. If I still noticed him, I was instructed to drive straight to the police station.

I talked to this officer for probably three or four minutes. He had been so busy chasing me down and giving me this information, that we didn't notice if the man left his parking lot. Supposedly he was in a blue Honda hatchback. Thankfully, he did not follow us home, and we actually had a sheriff behind us most of the way! I drove home in a daze, not knowing how to process the event, and being shocked that I hadn't even considered noticing if I were being followed. I think that if the cop hadn't informed me, even if I'd noticed the man, I might just have thought, "I think that's the guy from the library behind us." As scary as it is, I'm very glad to have this awareness now!

I'm looking into family self-defense with a local lady I know. I also started carrying my pepper spray again. Why did I think I didn't need it? Over the days that followed, I had many dark thoughts of what could've been. The devil attacked me hard. I recalled several moments past that could've ended badly, and took my feelings of condemnation to the Lord. Isn't that what Satan does, especially at night? He brings up the "what ifs," what "could've" happened, and how "negligent" and "stupid" I was. God has been allowing me to process this, and working on my heart regarding regrets and how I handled things I wish I could've done differently. On top of that, there was the lingering fear.

What if we were somewhere else, and saw this guy again? What if someone else tries to follow us? What if, what if, what if. I could drive myself insane falling into the enemy's fear traps. Ephesians 5:11 says, "Have no fellowship with the unfruitful works of darkness, but rather expose them." This is something to pray about daily. In writing this post and in talking to my friends, I am exposing the ugliness of darkness.

I have also done some serious praying about our protection, that the Lord would outfit us with what I term "beefy angel-bodyguards" to go everywhere with us. I felt peace about God's provision, as His Word clearly states that He places angels to guard us in all our ways. 

So guess what happened yesterday? I saw him again.

Yes, only nine days after the incident, I saw the guy again. I had just prayed before walking into the place; I asked the Lord, "Please don't let me see the man with the bandana here." Ironically, it was at another library event, although in a different building. I was alone this time, at the library's half-price book sale, and was just finishing looking around after having been there at least an hour. I don't go into the cd/dvd room, but as I passed by it, I glanced in...and there he was, standing in the little room, head bent, looking at some media that was in his hands. The bent head was covered with the same navy bandana, with the same black curls emerging, and he wore the same khaki shorts, and same sandals.

I seriously couldn't believe it. My first instinct was to flee past, which I did. I was shocked, and my heartbeat increased ten-fold in a matter of seconds. I stood with my back to where he would come out (if he left the dvd room), and pretended to look at some books (oh, the irony!) as I pulled myself together, tried to breathe, and said some prayer, although I have no idea what I said. I texted my husband, who responded "Get out of there," which I did. As I made my way through the payment lines, I kept my face firmly forward, as I didn't want him to see me. I had no idea if the guy could be behind me, although I feared he was. The ladies at the table wanted to chitchat, and I was practically shaking...I wondered what they would say if I blurted out, "I have to get out of here! A-bandana-guy-who-creeped-me-out-and-who-I-hoped-never-to-see-again-is-within-yards-of-me-and-I'm-gonna-pass-out-if-I-can't-get-outta-here!"

I grabbed the mace out of my purse, held it firmly along with my box of books, and made it to my van, which was thankfully parked close to the door. I checked to see if he was in the parking lot, and he wasn't. No one followed me out, and I made a second trip home in a daze, not knowing what to think or how to process seeing this person for the second time in nine days. 

"Lord," I said, "I have to admit I'm baffled. I confess I don't understand, when I had just prayed not to see that guy here, why I would see him here!" I knew God had some purpose, as He always does. I told Him I knew he was always teaching me something, but I just didn't get it. Not that I had to, but I knew that the Lord was happy to engage me in a dialogue nonetheless.

A different sort of question suddenly popped into my head: "Aren't you glad you did see him?" Well, yes, I was. And certainly glad that he didn't see me! And even more grateful that in the long time I was at the sale, not once did that man appear down an aisle where I had been. I can only imagine if I'd looked over and seen him standing beside me again, "looking" at books. I'm pretty certain I'd have passed out.

When I got home and had bent my husband's ear awhile, yet another nudge came to me: "Remember the beefy angel-bodyguards?" And it was a warm nudge, with a loving embrace from God. 

What do I make of all of this? I can't fully say. It was an unsettling evening, with more enemy attack. However, the love, protection, and sovereignty of God have overarched the whole situation. Jesus Christ is "Far above all principality and power and might and dominion, and every name that is named, not only in this age, but also in that which is to come. And He put all things under His feet..." (Ephesians 1:21-22). I read this aloud, thanking God for His might, and asking Him to make me strong in it (Ephesians 6:10). 

The Lord reminds me that, in none of the potentially dangerous situations that have happened over my life, have I been in control of the outcome. In fact, it is because of Him that they have ended well! I feel Him showing me His great love and protection, making me aware of His care for us. I was reminded today of the passage in Luke 11:11-13 where Jesus says, "If a son asks for bread from any father among you, will he give him a stone? Or if he asks for a fish, will he give him a serpent instead of a fish? Or if he asks for an egg, will he offer him a scorpion? If you then, being evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your heavenly Father give the Holy Spirit to those who ask Him!" Matthew's account in 6:11 says, "How much more will your Father who is in heaven give good things to those who ask Him!"

I feel the Lord's love in that He understands that I want "good things" for us. He is reminding me that He wants this, too, even more than I do ("How much more will your Father in heaven...?"). He is speaking to me about the fact that he gives bread, fish, and eggs, not stones, serpents, and scorpions. He gives "beefy angel-bodyguards" if we ask! It can feel scary and terrible, but our Father in heaven always knows what's good for us, even if it doesn't make complete earthly sense. I will trust and grow in Him, forgetting not all his benefits (Psalm 103:2)...and still carry my mace. I hope you will do the same!

Heart Prayer of Repentance

It's been a week of the Lord speaking to me in so many ways, they get fuzzy and jumbled. I feel the weight of sin, and the hope of truth and repentance. There's the dilemma of my head and heart not meeting, and old lies resurfacing. There are also "spiritual two-by-fours," as my husband calls them, that lovingly level me with ways God wants to change and shape me. 

I listened to a John Piper sermon called "Neither Do I Condemn You" at least four times late last week. The text was the end of John 7, and the beginning of John 8, where the Pharisees are nitpicking parts of the law, ready to stone the woman caught in adultery. Piper says that with circumcision on the Sabbath vs. healing a whole man, Jesus is drawing out the question, "What kind of a crazy use of the law is that?" 

I took notes on the last nine minutes of the sermon. Here are some points that stood out to me. Although my story isn't the same as this woman's, Piper's words to Christ's grace in all situations: 

• "In saying, 'Go and sin no more,' Jesus is saying, "I am re-establishing your holy life, my friend. I'm building it again...Here's the difference, woman: I have just put it on a new foundation, my grace. Do you hear this, woman? I'm not lessening the command to you ("Don't do it again"), but now, I have just forgiven you totally...Woman, I am rebuilding justice, I am rebuilding righteousness, I am rebuilding holiness, and I'm building it on grace." 
• "You have to have an experience of grace in your life before you can pursue not sinning. If you try to pursue not sinning without the experience of amazing grace, what do you get? Pharisaism...heartless misuses of the law."
• "'Be holy as I am holy,' but don't pursue this holiness until you've heard the words, 'Neither do I condemn you'...that's the point of the Bible...Come to Jesus for grace, and set your face to sin no more.

My head, heart, and journal have been so full of the fires of refining this week, I wondered how I'd be able to bathe it all in prayer and cover everything. There seem to be so many needs, so many areas in which to grow, that I have trouble remembering all there is to cry out with. I wrote a prayer and made several copies: one in my journal, one for my bathroom mirror, one to keep in my purse, and one tucked in the Bible by my bed. 

Holy Spirit, please work in my heart and mind. Let the words and actions of others not dictate who I am. Enable me to respond with truth and grace. Let me not be rash with my mouth. Let me draw near to hear, and not utter anything hastily. Lord, You are in heaven, and I am on earth, so let my words be few. Make me to love purity of heart, and have grace on my lips.

Jesus, show me my own plank before I examine another’s speck. Let my heart be centered on You rather on myself. Take me to Your feet at the cross, and enable me to lay my sin and troubles there. Transform the black clouds of my heart with the sunshine of Your redemption, enabling me to stand fast in the liberty by which Your blood has made me free. Change my heart to believe that my righteousness is by Your grace, not by my works. Enable me to receive the white robe of Your newness and protection.

Lord, let Your discretion preserve me, and Your understanding keep me. Enfold me with the ability to discern what to do, and to possess cautious reserve in my speech, for Your glory and my good. Remind me that I am joined to my Bridegroom, Who was raised from the dead, that I should bear fruit to Him. Help my heart to remember and trust in the fact that I have died to the things that once held me, and that I serve in the newness of the Spirit. Enable me to grow in constant repentance, holding on to renewal, and believing that there is no condemnation for those in You, Jesus. Lord, help my unbelief, in Jesus’s name. Amen. 

I heard Tim Keller say this week, "The cycle that you must be growing in daily is moving from repentance to faith." Daily. Repentance to faith, all day long, till the sun goes down...then repeat in a new and different way, for a lifetime. Martin Luther's first of his Ninety-five Theses is, "When our Lord and Master Jesus Christ said, 'Repent,' (Mt. 4:17), He willed the entire life of believers to be one of repentance." We are on a journey, and only arrive when we reach the destination of our heavenly home. I am constantly reminding myself that there's no point at which I'll lean back, fold my arms, and say, "Well, now I've arrived! I can stop growing spiritually." 

Donec iterum...

Forgiveness & Evangelism

These are two of many areas that stretch my faith greatly: forgiveness and evangelism. Forgiveness, meaning my understanding that through Christ, I'm forgiven; evangelism, as in how wimpy I can be when I don't allow God's help in telling others about Him.

I've come to depend on Psalm 103. The area around it in my Bible is crinkled with tear stains. I feel like I'm often on these pages because of my desperate plea to God to help me understand that I'm forgiven. Verse 3 clearly states that the Lord "...forgives all your iniquities," yet my heart doesn't truly believe this applies to me. When I admit it out loud, it sounds ridiculous: Christ's blood is able to cover all the sins of the world...except for mine. Not only is it a preposterous lie, it's prideful. I'm not above the God of the universe's healing.

Satan knows that I buy into taunts of my being unforgivable, that I brood over and revisit past transgressions time and again. The Holy Spirit is working on my heart greatly in this area. I hear the enemy voice jeering, "How could you? What kind of mother/wife/friend/Christian are you?" and I choose to fall into his trap rather than believing God. Why is it so hard?? Because strongholds can be grueling and time consuming to break, and because we don't always trust that God is for our good in the trial. I continue to go before the Lord and ask Him to "unite my heart to fear His name" (Psalm 86:11), and to keep me from being the one in James 1:8, a "double-minded man, unstable in all his ways."

John Piper says that we usually make a mistake in thinking we need to "forgive ourselves." Most of the time, it's another person against whom we've sinned, and that is the one from whom we must ask forgiveness. Once we go before that person, and also confess our transgression to God in repentance, that's it! I have a hard time "letting myself off the hook," though...as if I were on my own hook, anyway. Aren't I on God's? And if that's true, doesn't He get to be judge? Isn't He already the judge of the universe? 

I told a wise friend about a mistake I made, one that I keep coming back to in my mind. I told him I wished I could allow myself to be human and make mistakes. He answered that I had usurped God's role as judge, marking myself because of one mistake. If mine are the only mistakes God can't fix, my friend says, "then He doesn't get to be God." 

Yesterday I told my girls a piece of information I later wished I'd kept to myself. I went to them and confessed that I was wrong to say what I did, that it was gossip. I reminded them that we never arrive at a moment when we're not growing and asking for forgiveness, and I asked for theirs in not setting a good example. Immediately they started patting my head and face, cut off my speech, and both said, "It's ok, Mom! We love you!" I knew in this moment that this is how our Father responds when we go to Him with our sin. He doesn't say, "Hmmm...let me think about it, and I might forgive you," or, "I can't forgive you yet, but maybe when you reform a little more." No! He's quick to love us, to say that "As far as the east is from the west, so far has He removed our transgressions from us" (Psalm 103:12). "As a father pities his children, so the Lord pities those who fear Him" (103:13). 

Evangelism is another area where the Lord is nudging me to grow. I live in a country where I can worship and proclaim Christ freely, yet I often shrink in terror when I feel a prod to say something about Him. It seems absurd that people in the Middle East are jailed and beheaded for being Christians, while I sit here, afraid to broach the subject with people of peace! 

My husband and I have a custom: when we dine out, we always ask our waiter/waitress if we can pray for him/her when we ask our blessing. Most of the time this is received well, and people will share their stories with us. Last week, my husband felt such a burden for our waitress that he gave her his card and asked her to get in touch with us if she needed anything. Her sad eyes stayed in our hearts long after that meal. Pray for Kaylee, please.

Sometimes our asking is answered with, "No, I'm fine," and one waitress even once said, "Pray for those who need it." That was an interesting response, especially since our pastor was at the table with us! Those are the folks who need it the most. Never have we had a contentious response in the years we've been doing this.

Asking a waiter has become easier over the years, although I confess that sometimes I still feel strange doing it. Why should it take such courage to initiate a spiritual conversation? Am I afraid the waiter will spit in our food, or worse...think we're weird?? Maybe we should aspire to be "weird" by the world's standards. Allowing this to come naturally takes time, like I mentioned before. Gaining boldness in any area is "deliciously harrowing."

With a waiter, it's one thing; that person's job is to serve, and they are trying to make money...I chuckle thinking he/she is a captive audience. However, here's another scenario: I'm having a conversation with someone (the parent of my kid's friend, a tennis coach, a relative, a lifeguard at the pool, maybe even one of my kids' friends)...anyone who forms a part of my routine life. I get the "nudge" to speak about God...NOW??!! HOW??!! "Do I have to?!"

As I type this, I'm brokenhearted that these would be my reactions. Lord, move me from NOW?? to NOW!!!!! Help me in those moments to call on You for the "how." Let the question not be, "Do I have to?" but rather, "How can I not?" 

I will insert at this point that, speaking before of the devil, he likes to make me feel absolutely rotten when I miss an opportunity. He calls me a coward, tells me I must not love the Lord, asks me what kind of Christian I am, and blah, blah, blah. Condemnation does not come from the Holy Spirit (Romans 8:1), but what He does give us is the conviction that we missed an opportunity because we weren't relying on Him for help. Any dark thoughts about it are from the enemy; we can go to the Lord and say, "Lord, I knew I should've said something, but I froze. Forgive me for not calling on you for the words. Please give me another opportunity to tell someone about You, and make me bold for it." I prayed this several times when we started our "waitstaff ministry," when I knew I should ask but didn't. 

Today a little fella sat beside me and told me he was seven-years-old, and that he was going to Boston soon "on business." It seems the trip is so that his four-year-old brother can receive one of his mother's kidneys. I wanted badly to tell this chatty guy that Jesus cares about his brother, but all I said was that I would be praying for everything to go well. I felt silly thinking that I was scared to talk about my faith to a school-kid! Those are the ones who best understand the kingdom of God! I pray I will be ready for the next opportunity, and I'd love another chance to talk to this boy! God is weaving forgiveness and evangelism together to help me grow in the truth that mistakes on my part, if I confess and turn, don't put the "HOPELESS" or "DOOMED" stamp on me. Satan wants me to believe that I'm too despicable to even pray to God about it; after all, why would He want to hear me when I cowered over bringing up His name? 

When a lie like that comes up, the best thing to do is defy it, and pray!
Lord, thank You that all of life is repentance. As long as there's life, there's hope. I rebuke the enemy's attempts at condemnation, and praise You for loving me always. Your Son gave His life for my shortcomings, and as a sinner, I need You desperately every minute. Give me the courage to share this Good News with others. Forgive and change my unbelief, and continue to grow me in your truth. 

I have typed my prayers in green, which reminds me of new life, of fresh growth. Here is another one, straight from King David. May we not be afraid to pray this, and to ask God for courage as He answers:
"Search me, O God, and know my heart;
Try me, and know my anxieties;
And see if there is any wicked way in me,
And lead me in the way everlasting." Psalm 139:23-24

Suffering in Obedience

Good grief, what a week. I'm experiencing the refining process of facing God's will, even though it goes against the way I would've chosen. Good thing One of us knows what He's doing. The other one has felt beaten up and battle-worn, but I'm being counted as one who can speak His Word with authority.

Here's a clip no one enjoys putting into reality: 

What is joy, really? Is it the warm, fuzzy feeling we'd refer to as "well-being"? I contend that, if we're on the narrow road of God's Way, "joy" doesn't feel like we want it to. In fact, for me right now, it's pretty darn harrowing. I am trusting the God of the universe Who tells me that these tears I sow will reap joy (Psalm 126:5). It's hard to live out being refined when many who call themselves Christians in America won't endure a minute's discomfort to truly grow in Christ.

The irony is that this actually is true "well-being." No wonder the narrow road is sparse. Tears, cotton-brain, and torment from Satan just aren't selling points for getting folks to sign up for this race. I'm willing to throw it out there and be deemed a "Debbie Downer" by those who don't get it. I believe more of us are suffering the trials of obedience than we realize; we just don't talk about it. What are you afraid of? God's finally brought me to a turning point in my life when I'm afraid not to be a bold voice for Him. There's courage on this road, too.

Chew on this quote from Dietrich Bonhoeffer, and dare to follow your own way:

"...within the fellowship of Christ's suffering, suffering is overcome by suffering, and becomes the way to communion with God." (From The Cost of Discipleship).

There's no two ways about it: either I obey, or I don't. My obedience looks like my trusting Him simply because He says so; "Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen" (Hebrews 11:1). A wise friend reminded me a few days ago that others might not realize the cost of our obedience. It is so hard to spend oneself and endure distress for things unseen, when anything else seems "better," and no one has any idea of the cost. I make this statement as one going through it now, still in the trial. 

I have got to keep my eyes focused on Christ, not on myself or my circumstance. He exhibited the ultimate obedience, perfect and unblemished, at a cost that spilled blood to cover the cost of my own suffering. How can I not hear him and do His bidding? Pastor Tim Keller tells a story of a woman in his congregation who, upon realizing the sacrifice that Christ gave for her, said, "If He gave his life for me, there's nothing He can't ask of me." I can't worry about the fact that I might not like it...Father knows best, and He sees past, present, and future. I love the Casting Crowns song that says, "To You the future is a memory." 

"Oh, the depth of the riches both of the wisdom and knowledge of God! How unsearchable are His judgments and His ways past finding out!" (Note that this was authored by a guy who was in chains, the same one who had sought out Christians to kill them: Romans 11:33, our brother Paul.)

If you've read this blog for any length of time, you know I'm against a fluffy, "Just let go and let God!" attitude. Pull up those rugs that are lumpy from all the issues swept under them! Pollyanna Christianity is not the way Jesus operated. His life was hard; he suffered greatly, being ridiculed for walking the narrow path. Even his own family members didn't get Him. He had no reason to leave the perfection of Heaven but to give us a model of how to share in His sufferings, and to cover all this mess with His healing blood. To "feather His hair" (as Matt Chandler says) with our platitudes and pseudo-reality is to stand in the crowd as one of His mockers. 

The Lord has to be my portion always (Lamentations 3:24). "Through the Lord's mercies we are not consumed" (Lam. 3:22). He has been preparing me for this through other difficulties, and although I don't enjoy it, it's a privilege to let Him lead. We all know Solomon's list in Ecclesiastes, plagiarized by the Byrds in their '60's song, "Turn, Turn, Turn"....there truly is "...a time to weep, and a time to laugh...a time of war, and a time of peace" (3:4, 8). 

I read a Martin Luther quote the other day that blew me away:

"Discipleship is not limited to what you can comprehend--it must transcend all comprehension. Plunge into the deep waters beyond your own comprehension...Bewilderment is the true comprehension. Not to know where you are going is true knowledge...Not the work which you choose, not the suffering you devise, but the road which is clean contrary to all that your choose or contrive or desire--that is the road you must take."

I surround myself with godly people. They hear my confessions and heart without judgment, not straying from the Word and reminding me of God's hard truth. I ask God to let me walk in light, not darkness, that I would know in my heart who He says I am, not who the devil wants me to think I am. I seek the testimonies of other sufferers, like the Apostle Paul, Bonhoeffer, Spurgeon, and Luther. I ask the Holy Spirit to help me hear Him, to allow me to focus on this moment and not the future. If I'm brain-dead at night, I allow "The Andy Griffith Show" to minister to me. Sometimes even I have to put my books on hold. 

I humbly ask for your prayers. God is always working, but seldom do I know what He's doing. It's not my job to figure it out, because He is unsearchable, and "His ways past finding out," remember? It's not my job to make things happen, or manipulate my own thinking. He is lovingly and painfully giving me crowns to lay at His feet. 

Instead of pulling myself up and making every effort to fake "good courage," I'm learning to say, "Lord, help me wait on You. Enable me to be of good courage. Please strengthen my heart." I like this way better; it hurts in the short term, but isn't as painful in the long run as disobedience from my own attempts. Notice the marks of my tears on this page as I created it. 

Because there is joy during trials, here are some photos I've enjoyed this week:

Here is my Dad circa 1970. When his number came up, he was obedient to the call to Vietnam. He spent over a year of his life there, and wouldn't be who he is today had he not been through that difficult time. Here he is with a pup that died shortly after this photo was taken. Dad says it was discovered that the dog had rabies, so all the guys who had handled him had to go through a series of shots. My Dad is my favorite vet, and I thanked him and many others on Nov. 11 for their sacrifices. Obedience comes in various forms. 

We worked on parts of school outside this week, and Nibbles accompanied us. She delights in eating grass from the yard, although most of it is brown these days. Pray for rain for western North Carolina, as I'm sure you've heard about the wildfires here. As distracting as it can be to have our piggy along for schoolwork, we have to look for and receive joy where God gives it, and she fits the bill for sure. If you desire a pet but don't want a lot of work, a guinea pig is perfect. 

We went to Dad's alma mater yesterday to enjoy a football game. This man is Uncle Tim Remaley, my godfather and special friend. He and Dad were teammates at Wofford and have known each other over fifty years. I'm grateful to have had Uncle Tim's love and company since the day I was born. I don't see him often enough anymore, but am happy to catch him at a game. Thank You, Lord, for him and his family, who have always been like my own. 

Until next time! Thanks for reading. Pass this on to others who need a friend in Christ. 

Faithfulness Reminders

After a storm last week. God likes to remind us of His promises.

"My heart is steadfast, O God, my heart is steadfast." Psalm 57:7

Out of David's declaration, I formed a prayer: Lord, let my heart be steadfast today. 

Speaking of prayers, here's one from The Cloud of Witness that I read some weeks ago:

Praying a prayer like this one involves more than we often realize we're "signing up for." It means serious sanctification, inviting Christ to allow us to share in His sufferings, usually contrary to what feels good. In the midst of such growth, His love shows itself all around...

What's better than one chickadee? Three! I wish I could take them
in my palm and kiss their sweet, soft faces. God does it for me, though.

Here's something I don't see every day: a tufted titmouse
and a sparrow coexisting at the feeder. Usually the former is
harassing the latter, but it made me happy to see them
peacefully together. 

My Dad's birthday was last week, and he told me he'd like to come up to see us the day after. I love being around "Pop John," as the kids call him. He creates an atmosphere of gentleness and calm, and isn't rattled by life's pesky annoyances as I tend to be. 

Johnny's first birthday cake experience, which looks like it took
place during nap time. Incidentally, my children and I all
ate our own birthday cake in this same highchair, a family treasure
I'm now saving for my own grandchildren.

What a wonderful day we spent! First, Dad and I picked up tennis balls during my girls' lesson. Then we were off to Kosta's diner, Pop John's favorite place to eat when he visits. It's nothing fancy, but they know us there, and who can resist the throwback atmosphere? 

From there, we headed to a nearby used bookstore that's rapidly becoming a ritual when Dad's in town, and for me even when he's not. After that, we went to the park where the girls rode bikes and Dad and I walked the track. When it became too hot, we strode over to the adjacent library. Once we were back home, we settled into a long Parcheesi game with the kids, listening to the "oldies" that Pop John grew up with and taught me to love, too. I can't imagine a better way to spend the day with him than doing all of our favorite things.

While we were in the car, I spotted something funny, and of course, the phone was out so I could snap a photo "for the blog":

"Big Ed" wanted us to know he was at the wheel in front of us.
I got my goofy sense of humor from Pop John, so naturally,
he got a kick out of this, too!

Here are more shots from the yard, ones I took just this morning, that bring joy and remind me of God's control and ever-watchful eye:

As I was at the table by the window this morning, I was distracted from my Bible-reading by hummingbirds like this one. They kept stopping by, looking for the red nectar that's usually in their feeder. Today, it was empty; I kept telling myself that I'd fill it as soon as I was through reading. The poor creatures were so pitiful, and their constant presence seemed to beg me to please feed them! The male has a beautiful, bright red neck. This female is not as adorned, but still sweet.

The miniature rose pictured next has belonged to me for eight years. It was a gift from a friend who was in the harrowing trial of a baby with cancer. She gave several friends this little bush as we joined her in prayer and tears. That baby is now a boy of almost nine, healthy and fine, just like the rose! 

This little rose was planted eight years ago in my yard, and I have faithfully watered and cared for it, remembering God's goodness and love. When we moved two years ago, I carefully dug it up before the home inspection. I wasn't about to let the new folks think that my rose came with the house! It has taken a while to grow accustomed to its new home, but as you can see, he's doing well.

Speaking of roses, here's a bush my younger daughter chose earlier this year. It's been fun to watch it grow and thrive!

My older daughter chose a small dahlia. Prior to this, I had no dahlia experience. We planted it by the roses, where it has gotten lots of bright morning sun. You can see that sun and water are about all it has taken! We enjoy the blooms, but as they dry out, I've simply plucked them and waited for new ones to emerge. The leaves are hearty, and we've snapped a few of them in order to see the flowers better.

Finally, the butterfly bush grows tall outside the same kitchen bay window where we view our birds at the feeders. We had one at the old house that grew out of control in an odd location, and I finally had to dig it up. The one at this house was placed just right. Our birds, and of course, butterflies, love to partake of its shade and nectar. I have to trim it back about once a month, but always make sure I leave limbs where the long, brilliant purple blooms are growing. This morning, the hummingbirds found solace here while waiting for me to refill their feeder. You can see who else enjoyed this place that God designed just for him:

Maybe I love God's creatures because they remind me of His faithfulness and provision. No one except God tells birds and butterflies where to go for food, or how to fly. They don't worry, but just exist in what He has designed. Our lives are more complex with decisions, analysis, and choices...yet He still desires for us to live as the simplest of creatures, relying on Him as He causes the sun to rise and set, as everything is under His feet. If He cares about the sparrow, how much more does He love and care for the ones for whom He died? 

How Charlotte & I View Mind & Heart Differently

If I could have a discussion with Charlotte Mason, I would gently challenge her on some passages in Ourselves where she brushes across the topic of our thoughts. Before I go further, I will make the disclaimer that I have not yet read this book entirely; I am merely stating my personal thoughts on a part that I recently read. 

I believe that I have earned some authority to speak to the renewing of the mind, as well as torment by the enemy with thoughts that are neither desirable nor instigated by me. The Father of Lies knows which buttons to push; he recalls every horrible news story I've heard, or image I've seen. He knows the details of trashy movies and books I once had no problem with; he's the one responsible for my once lackadaisical attitude toward them. I agree with Charlotte when she advises, "...it is unwise for anyone to read newspaper accounts of those sorts of things, for even if you are not tempted to do the wickedness, the horrid picture of it remains, once you have allowed your Imagination to paint it for you" (p. 52). No question there.

I am intentional now about what I watch and read; however, in this day and age, no one has the power to stop every pop-up ad, and who knows what will come up next on the news? Before I know it, the "images" are formed in my mind, like it or not, and as I've written before, the enemy uses this greatly against me. Unimaginable horrors threaten to take over my sanity before I know what has happened. This plus all the mind-junk from the past make for a nasty combination.

Where I take some issue with Charlotte is in the way she tells us to not listen to people who are discussing such "sins," and in how to handle our thoughts. I'd like to think she refers to the actual horrors, but her tone leads me to think that we shouldn't even talk about the fact that "normal" people deal with this daily, even minute-by-minute. I confess I'm bothered by Charlotte's wording that those of us who are tormented by certain thoughts "allow" ourselves "...to think such thoughts" without simply "shutting the eyes" of our imaginations. 

In defense of Miss Mason, I will say that I agree with her more often than not. She has felt like a wise mentor, one who guides me through homeschooling as well as life. Perhaps my admiration for her is what disappoints me to have a slight bone to pick. I feel like a troublemaker within the CM community, none of whom I've ever heard "call out" Charlotte on anything. But there is much more involved here, and obviously Charlotte had a rare type of mind-protecting discernment. I would wager that most of us have extreme difficulty simply "hurrying away from the thought to think of something else" (p.53).

John Piper's sermon "The Renewed Mind and How to Have It" offers excellent insight for those of us who struggle with this issue. Many have been through trauma that requires much more than just thinking about something else. Piper explains our problem this way:

"The mind suppresses the truth because the heart continues to feed it with hardness and won't let us submit to the supremacy of Christ."

Matters of the mind are matters of the heart. They are not flies that go away when we swat at them. My mind and heart are connected; the heart feeds the mind with lies that it has believed, and these manifest themselves all sorts of ways. According to Piper, this keeps us from submitting to Christ's omnipotence and majesty. 

There is so much more to this than replacing a negative thought with a pleasant one as if it were all up to me. It is counterproductive to interfere with the Spirit's work. Piper points out that the same "renewing" used when Paul talks about "being transformed by the renewing of the mind" is used only one other time as a noun in the New Testament, in Titus 3:5:

"...according to His mercy He saved us, through the washing of regeneration and the renewing of the Holy Spirit, whom He poured out on us abundantly through Christ Jesus our Savior."

Those who unwillingly suffer from, as Charlotte calls it, "unclean imaginings," feel unclean enough by these abominations without being made to feel as though the individual is somehow causing them. Piper says that we have a "mindset" that must be renewed. Trying to think good thoughts is not a bad idea, but the issue is much bigger. Lies we believe can come from anywhere: liberties taken as children, the death of a parent, having witnessed a traumatic event, having been neglected, and on the list can go. As commendable as Charlotte's methods are, I admit there is disappointment that more grace can't be given to believers who find it difficult to endure the enemy's torment.

As believers, let's not forget that every aspect of healing and change in our lives requires the work of the Holy Spirit. It can be hard to know what that looks like. When one is in bondage to lies for so long, we almost feel as though we're doomed to that fate forever. Not only must we soak in truth from the outside in the form of verses, sermons, etc., but we must pray like crazy for heart-repair on the inside. No amount of happy-thought band-aids will accomplish this. It involves begging God to let us know Him, and for ourselves to be known.

In my healing from wounds and lies, a tactic of the enemy has been to put repulsive images in my mind in order to make me feel dirty, incurable, and far from Christ. My reaction still changes moment by moment, depending on my turning it over to the Lord. My prayer is that soon, I will have completely given it over to the Holy Spirit. Even in good times, my cracked heart goes back to the lie that soon the other shoe will fall. When we are so bent on not thinking about certain things, we are bound to think them. I ask the Spirit daily to get me to the point that I don't think about thinking about it!

Healing a broken, warped heart is a marathon. We want to believe that once a person walks an aisle or prays a prayer for Christ...bam!...none of my old ways of thinking will affect me. The devil has done a crafty job of selling us this bill of goods. I am in this for real, continuing to ask the Spirit to heal me slowly, and make me be able to say with authority and no platitudes that I know for sure  that my heart has been healed. I have to be prepared for suffering and purging in the meantime.

"Now, the Lord is the Spirit; and where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is liberty. But we all, with unveiled face, beholding as in a mirror the glory of the Lord, are being transformed into the same image from glory to glory, just as by the Spirit of the Lord." (2 Corinthians 3:17-18).

I remain faithful to the Charlotte Mason method. She feels like a friend, and I'm allowed to not see eye-to-eye with the way a friend conveys an idea. I encourage the CM community to remember that although we are presenting our children and ourselves with living, wholesome ideas, all of us have hurts that have brought about wounds that need healing. The "unclean imaginings" of others are not to be dismissed, but treated seriously, taken to the Lord in prayer, with compassion and grace. They are unwanted darts thrown at those who love the Lord.

"Therefore we do not lose heart. Even though our outward man is perishing, yet the inward man is being renewed day by day." (2 Corinthians 4:16)