PeepEye's Birthday

Here is a tribute I wrote about my grandfather, Jack Burtnett, on what would be his 100th birthday...today!

Happy birthday, PeepEye.


http://burtnettfamilystories.blogspot.com/2016/01/happy-birthday-peepeye.html

Sunday Thoughts

                                                        Help me not to be unwise

                                                        To view my life through my flawed eyes;

                                                        Instead through Yours, which see things true.

                                                        Almighty power does renew.

                                                                                                          --J.B.W.

                                                Ah! Happy they whose hearts can break

                                                And peace of pardon win!

                                                How else may man make straight his plan

                                                And cleanse his soul from sin?

                                                How else but through a broken heart

                                                May Lord Christ enter in?

                                                                                               --Oscar Wilde,

                                                                                               From "The Ballad of Reading Gaol"

Deep Healing, Deep Quiet

My girls and I have been memorizing Psalm 27. Next week, we will come to the final verse:

Wait on the Lord;

Be of good courage,

And He will strengthen your heart;

Wait, I say, on the Lord! (verse 14)

Those who are quick to repeat, "Let go, and let God!" in response to the trials of others seem to have never done just that. David's way of commanding it, however, holds water. He lived it; he knew what it was to wait on the Lord, seek Him for the courage to do it, and allow only Him to strengthen his heart. He expresses the difficulty of waiting in that he says it once more, exclamation point and all.

This has been a year of intense purging and healing, but the renewal continues. I am in a time of painfully waiting on the Lord to perform changes that are out of my control. Make no mistake: nothing is ever in our control. This time, though, there's not even an option for me to try. Several situations in my life have me understanding the rubber-meeting-road meaning of Psalm 27:14, as well as another one that we tend to gloss over: "Be still, and know that I am God," (Psalm 46:10).

For years, I've said of certain trials, "I have to let go; I have to let God work." Usually this meant saying that, then proceeding to turn around and attempt to fix the issue, or smooth things over in some way in order to ease the pain. The Holy Spirit is showing me that these things not only don't work, I end up robbing myself and others of spiritual growth. Paul said in Philippians 3:10:

"...that I may know Him and the power of His resurrection, and the fellowship of His sufferings, being conformed to His death..."

This isn't just for Paul; it should be my desire, too. Suddenly it is, whether I like it or not. I confess that more of these days are filled with my thinking I don't like it, yet knowing that God is growing me to love it. "Letting go and letting God" means just that: really getting out of the way of the living God, rather than reciting a catchy phrase to make myself sound noble, yet still pushing through in my own way. 

Charlotte Mason's students kept what she termed a "Commonplace Book." This is a blank book where I copy poems, verses, or lines that I want to remember. It can also be filled with drawings or doodles as the mood strikes. Yesterday, I copied Whittier's From Day to Day selection:

"In God's own might

We gird us for the coming fight;

And, strong in Him whose cause is ours

In conflict with unholy powers,

We grasp the weapons He has given,--

The Light, the Truth, and Love of Heaven."

                                  From "The Moral Warfare"

On Sunday, I expressed my sympathy to a dear lady whose father-in-law just passed away. She began telling me about the trials of her family's Christmas, and an unfamiliar sensation swept over me. My eyes felt googly, and my body was faint. The truth hit as suddenly as the feeling: I simply cannot take on more stress, regardless of whose it is. It is time for my mind and heart to be still.

This is a period of serious change for me. It requires being intentional about not doing too much. I need to focus on my family, our home, and our school, all under the Holy Spirit's constant guidance. It's all I can handle. My quiet moments are spent with the Lord, and also in lots of reading. He speaks to me about allowing myself to put back the wholesome ideas that have either been lost or never taught. God has given me the gift of the deep enjoyment of being still with books. There is a pleasure in clean reading, bit by bit, that I am relishing.

Well-meaning friends want to give suggestions about what I should "do," but I have to allow God the "doing" while He allows me the stillness. It's counterculture, counterintuitive. Deep healing involves deep quiet. When we have major surgery, aren't we advised to rest and let healing happen? Yet most in our fast-paced culture refuse to stop long enough even for such a concrete example. Stepping off the treadmill requires letting God give me back my breath, renewed. My heart will never be made whole otherwise.

Coram Deo

The year 2015 was unprecedented for me in healing and sanctification. For eight long, harrowing months, I experienced the pain of confronting issues and lies that have haunted me most of my life. I was tired of the elephant in the room, but bringing it to light and the work involved in redirecting things have proven exhausting.

This morning, Pastor Bryan preached from 2 Peter 1:3-11. He talked about living, as Luther put it, "coram Deo," or under the complete authority of God, literally "before His face." The idea is that followers of Christ are to reflect His virtues in every area of our lives, with consistency regardless of circumstances.

The trials and victories of the past year enable me to understand what Pastor means. I told my husband that if I had heard this message a year ago, I wouldn't have been able to relate to it a fraction of what it meant to me today. Last year, I was wishy-washy and scared; today, coram Deo is a reality. I know firsthand what it is to be raw, my sin naked before me, utterly shattered from deciding to walk straight into the pain. 

Pastor Bryan observed that many Christians don't get far in coram Deo because sanctification isn't a five-minute process. I'll take it a step further and add that it hurts, too! Who wants to sign up for a tedious, searing process? I spent many minutes, hours, days, even weeks, begging the Lord Paul-style, that He would remove the thorn that came along with this year's sanctification package. I found frustration but also deep comfort in the answer:

"My grace is sufficient for you, for My strength is made perfect in weakness." (2 Corinthians 12:9)

How undesirable, yet necessary this growth is! How deliciously harrowing! How else does the Lover of our souls tear us from our chains, but to allow us to see and be horrified by our sin? 

"My son, do not despise the chastening of the Lord, nor be discouraged when you are rebuked by Him; for whom the Lord loves He chastens, and scourges every son whom He receives. If you endure chastening, God deals with you as sons; for what son is there whom a father does not chasten?" (Hebrews 12:5-7)

Much time has been spent in 2015 reading, listening to, meditating on, and crying out to God about this passage. During most of it, I chose to believe it because He says so, even if my heart wasn't totally there yet. And the whole time, I held on to that little word: yet. Rome wasn't built in a day; neither was the heart plagued by a lifetime of lies healed in a mere day.

The writer of Hebrews also says, "...make straight paths for your feet, so that what is lame may not be dislocated, but rather healed" (12:13, my italics). This small statement sums up the past year: doing what it takes to touch the garment of coram Deo, getting off the road of crookedness no matter how dark the days. I can relate to Christian in Pilgrim's Progress, as I have fallen smack into the Slough of Despond, walked through the Valley of Humiliation, and visited the Doubting Castle countless times.

I want to shout from the rooftop that it's worth it. My heart still has broken spots, but they're not the gaping wounds they were a year ago. I can see how the chastening of the Lord is good, and how He searches and knows me (Psalm 139:24). I'm not afraid anymore to ask Him to do this, and to lead me in the way everlasting. My walk has become more than a motivational pep-talk or a bumper sticker on my car; it is rubber-meeting-road, hideously-beautiful being made new. 

The Lord's mercies are sufficient for today (Lamentations 3:22-23). I'm content to be on the road of healing while knowing there is still plenty ahead. May the Lord give strength abundantly to those who dare to live Coram Deo.

Whittier's Poetry

I've been looking forward for weeks to unpacking this gem on January 1. Several years ago, I saw this in an antique store. The price had dropped from $25 to a mere $2.50, and it was so charming, I handed over the cash. 

John Greenleaf Whittier had no sentimental value to me, but I'm a sucker for anything old, especially books. This particular volume from 1910 was not only in its original box, it even had the tissue paper from over a hundred years ago still intact! As I had nowhere to put it at the time, I tucked it away and forgot about it.

Last year, we moved to a home that had a perfect room to be made into a library. I experienced great joy in re-discovering this sweet book and finding the ideal spot to display it on a bookcase. When I had time about a month ago, I decided to investigate the content of the book, and saw that it is organized into daily readings of Whittier's poetry, verses and stanzas selected for each day of the year.

Poetry was a tremendous part of Charlotte Mason's teaching and personal leisure. The Cloud of Witness, her gift to graduates of her teaching college, is made up entirely of poetry, verse, and Scripture. A homeschooler cannot follow the methods of Miss Mason and leave out poetry, but I believe it is daunting for some who are interested in Charlotte's methods.

Daily reading in The Cloud has exercised my poetry "muscle," and I'm learning that anyone can appreciate poetry. I don't claim to understand or even enjoy every bit of what I read, but all literature is like that; we take the parts we like, and feed on them. From Day to Day and The Cloud are both designed in a way that makes reading poetry simple, providing small morsels for the mind and heart to digest slowly.

I'm not sure what it is about Whittier, but I seem destined to rescue forgotten copies of his work. Upon dusting off From Day to Day, I remembered another volume on the shelf, one also purchased for a minimal amount at an antique store. The attractive, regal cover caught my eye, and I thought, why not?

This book has been in my possession for at least ten years, with little regard to Whittier or his poetry. The cover is completely unattached to the rest of the book, and overall it is in poor condition. I like to imagine that the previous owner, a man named George Abel (scrawled on the front blank page), found delight and comfort in Whittier's work.

It seems that by God's design, I have an affinity for the works of Whittier. Why I happen to come across old copies of his works, I have no idea, but I'm intrigued enough to start a collection and begin reading them and learning more about him. John Greenleaf Whittier (1807-92) was born and lived most of his life in Massachusetts. He was a sickly Quaker, an abolitionist who worked to put himself through school, and whose poetry wasn't appreciated by the likes of Nathaniel Hawthorne. I find it particularly interesting that this volume of Early Poems was published while Whittier was still living.

Something that may be obvious to others but that I'm just now discovering is that these careworn books aren't just for show; there is deep pleasure in opening them up and slowly taking in their contents. I have inherited many old volumes that sit on shelves, their insides having not been examined for over half century (maybe much longer). What joy I am finding in these treasures, which to most of the world are junk! 

In asking God to renew my heart and mind, I notice that He is using books, stories, poetry, and history as a part of this restoration. As I expose my children to good literature, my Father is immersing me in these fine things, too. When I ask Him to help me think on what is "true...noble...right...pure...lovely...admirable...excellent and praiseworthy" (Philippians 4:8), feeding my mind with worthwhile writings is key to renewal. A steady diet of God's Word and beneficial works are what I crave, and I believe Whittier is a part of that.

The Refreshment of a Friend

The past few days for me have been dark and difficult. I have felt suffocated by the past, and far from God. The migraine contributed to my inability to think clearly, but no doubt a few packed days during Christmas contributed to my being overwhelmed.

It is harder for me than most people to decompress, especially through this time in my life of healing, bringing darkness into light, and being renewed. There is so much on my mind being brought to the surface in an effort to purge. The enemy always finds ways to attempt to thwart any milestones. 

As restful and still as Advent has been, this past week has clouded my ability to hear from the Holy Spirit. As much as I know I am being grown, I creep back to the lie that nothing has changed at all. This is a dark place where I cling to the truth that I cannot "...lose heart. Even though our outward man is perishing, yet the inward man is being renewed day by day" (2 Corinthians 4:16).

About an hour ago, in the depth of my doldrums, my friend Tricia called. We have seen countless times of joy and tears together, but recently distance and our schedules keep us from seeing each other. Months, even half a year, might go by before we see each others' faces. Still, she is there, faithful to the end. 

God knew I needed to hear her voice over the phone and dig down deep. She has faced her own sanctification and is able to relate and share similarities and differences. Tricia engaged me today with no questioning, no telling me to see someone else's point of view, but simply listening and encouraging. She could tell that the Lord gives me enough direction, which freed her up to just be there.

Thank You, Lord, for an old friend when I needed her. I am refreshed and more settled from having spoken to one who can take my mess and not try to be the fixer. In his wisdom, Solomon stated that "Two are better than one, because they have a good reward for their labor. For if they fall, one will lift up his companion" (Ecclesiastes 4:9-10). There is no substitute for the sovereign wisdom and direction of Christ, but it also feels good to have advocates with skin on.

Migraine Postdrome

I never had migraines until adulthood. About five years ago, my doctor had me go for an MRI because of them, and we paid way too much to hear, "Yep, you're having migraines." In doing a little research, though, that reaction does seem to be the consensus; no one knows what causes migraines!

I decided to read up on mine in particular because they seem atypical. Only twenty percent of sufferers experience the aura, or spots, at the onset of a migraine. To me, it starts as if I've just had my photo taken with a flash and can still see the green glowing remnant. I know it's a migraine because that green dot won't go away, and within minutes I can see only half of the face of a person in front of me. 

If I can quickly grab some Tylenol or Advil and a strong cup of coffee, the aura disappears after about fifteen minutes. At this point, most sufferers would describe intense pain. My migraines involve almost no pain at all, but something known in the medical world as the "postdrome." Instead of the searing headache most people experience, I feel wiped out, as if I had the flu. It's as if I've been hit with a wave of intense fatigue, one that lasts for hours, during which I can barely keep my eyes open. I feel cotton-headed, unable to focus. My limbs grow weak, and I can barely move. My thoughts are jumbled and irrational.

Yesterday around 4pm I was hit with the tiniest aura, and in less than five minutes, the lady standing in front of me looked like she had only half a face! I was quick with the ibuprofen and coffee, then all I could do was lie on the sofa with my eyes closed. The light doesn't bother me as it does most migraine sufferers; some even experience vomiting. By about 6pm, I had entered into the postdrome, and my only option was to lie sideways on my bed. 

This morning, after being so bone-tired I slept all night, I was still mentally worn out. I couldn't read anything, not because it hurt, but because I just couldn't focus. I scraped by almost half the day in a mental fog, with a dull headache and unable to fully concentrate on anything without feeling like I'd run a marathon. I recalled waking in a fog during the night, desiring to turn over, but taking probably twenty or more minutes to work up the energy!

Is this part of a migraine, I wondered? When I went for the MRI, my migraines were more textbook: aura, intense pain, light sensitivity. I admit that if I have to suffer from them, I'll take the extreme fatigue over the blinding pain! But I couldn't help but wonder about this exhaustion that has begun accompanying my migraines. 

Here is a succinct article from Scicurious entitled "The Postdrome: Migraine's Silent Sister." (Click on title). It has shed light on my symptoms and further shows that migraines can look very different depending on the individual. I invite any readers to share your experiences with migraines.