Serenity

It has been another tumultuous week.

We had another sudden death in the family on Wednesday, my mother was in the ER Thursday overnight, and then I went into the ER on Friday and was admitted through Sunday, where I was ultimately diagnosed with an aneurism (it's stable and only requires monitoring for now, but medical eyes will definitely be on me going forward).

I then took two days off work to follow up on doctor's appointments and move medical information around.

So here we are on Wednesday, and I have no new recipe lined up for Sue's Diner. But last week's recipe is especially appropriate now, so I don't mind leaving it up for another week. That recipe might just be the "food" that someone, somewhere, might need.

Last night I got outside for a short walk, a bit later than I'd hoped, but in enough time to enjoy the gorgeous sunset, a bit of that "peace that passes understanding," and just enjoy doing something "normal" for me for a change.

It's also good to remember that in the midst of chaos, God reminds us of His presence in moments (and views) like these. They're such true blessings, aren't they?

I hope you find those blessings today and cherish them.

Happy Wednesday!

The Luna Moth on my Window

During the late afternoon on June 26, I glanced up from the computer where I was working on deadline and saw this creature, left wing flapping in the breeze.

I got up for a closer look, wondering what in the heck it was, and then snapped a couple of pictures and texted them to Nancy Kuhajda, University of Illinois Extension Will and Grundy master gardener and program coordinator.

Nancy said it was a luna moth, “magnificent member of the silk moth family.”

“Sadly, these beautiful adults only live about five to ten days days because they're born without mouths,” Nancy said.

Luna moths don’t eat, and they don’t drink, none of the silk moths do. “It’s “tragic, really,” Nancy said.

She said once luna moths hatch from their cocoons, they find their mate and then die.

“In a somewhat chemical irony, there was a sleeping pill called Lunesta that used the lunar moth in their logo,” Nancy said. “In reality moths are up all night.”

So why was this luna moth hanging out on my window? Seeking shade, most likely, Nancy said. Large moths are easy prey for birds and other animals during the day and typically come out after dark, Nancy said.

Lina moths tend to fly high and toward trees, she said.

“Often in the mornings, I'll see them inside the top of the pavilion at Pilcher Park,” Nancy said.  It's just where they hang out. And also if it's not moving, it could have just landed and died there…That's just what happens.”

She said the “little hands” of luna moths have hooks in them, so like they hooking to screens.

“It may have passed, but it could also just be waiting for nighttime,” Nancy said. “And then it'll be there one minute and gone the next.”

I “googled” luna moths and read they symbolize the cycle of life and death, transformation and change.

Hmmm.

So what happened to my luna moth?’

It stayed all evening and was still hanging onto my window when I went to bed. When I awakened in the morning, it was gone.

“Just consider it a blessing that you got to see it so up close,” Nancy said. “Very few people see them live and in-person.”

Spiritual Spa Day

Our family's had more than its share of medical unicorns prancing into our lives.

One might think, considering we've survived them all (so far), we'd be filled with great awe and admiration for modern medicine.

But we're not.

Instead, we're often filled with anxiety over what modern medicine might do to us (some of those unicorns are in the drug reaction club) or what new and strange malady might befall us.

Seriously.

Popular buzz words in our home include pheochromocytoma, mast cell disorders/chronic urticaria, Steven Johnson Syndrome, hidradenitis suppurativa, Hashimoto's disease, postural orthostatic tachycardia syndrome (POTS), familial polycythemia (without the vera), hyperhidrosis, and inappropriate sinus tachycardia mixed in with the rather normal diabetes, asthma, Asperger's, depression, anxiety, obsessive-compulsive disorder, dyslexia, allergies (seasonal, food, and drug), white coat hypertension, irritable bowel syndrome, diverticulosis, and diverticulitis (which actually might not have been diverticulitis after all - which really doesn't surprise me).

The awe/anxiety seesaw is a real spiritual pushmi-pullyu in our lives.

People used to comment on my patience for homeschooling my six children. I'd reply that patience is developed by enveloping ourselves in situations that cause impatience.

The same is probably true with overcoming medical anxiety. So I've worked really hard this past year to reframe my thinking with more and less success. Fortunately (?), God has provided plenty of opportunities, too.

This doesn't mean every situation will go well or every provider will be fantastic. But it does mean to have a little faith that the Holy Spirit is present in every situation and will guide us (and those around us) in that moment.

So...

Today I am happily on a clear liquid diet in anticipation of tomorrow's colonoscopy. I say "happily" because the procedure has already be rescheduled four times this year for various medical reasons that weren't sedation friendly.

In these weeks, I've learned an appreciation for the procedure, which - although it has its risks (of which I cannot completely control), is a privilege many people in the world simply cannot access. 

I'm going to try to keep this in mind as the day progresses.

I've already set myself up for success on the back end (no pun intended) by setting up the day, the diet, and the timing of these next two days with all weird health issues factored in. Because realistically, grumbling about being hungry really is the least of my concerns.

The undercurrent of this post is not intended to be whining. It's to address fear. And we all come face-to-face with fear in our lives, even if the situational cause is not identical.

If you're facing fear today, I'm facing it with you. And I hope that helps you.

All that's left is for me/us today to untie the boat and sail out to the middle of the lake and meet the uncertainty, where the real spiritual growth happens.

What's the old saying? A boat is safe in the harbor. But that is not the point of the boat (paraphrased).

So anchor lifted, here I go.

With a big bowl of quivering lemon Jell-O (not blue Jello-O) sitting in the refrigerator with a big spoonful already gone.

Because I've already embarked.

And because blue Jell-O is not allowed 

Reports From The Isolation 3/6

Reports From the Isolation 2/6

Reports from the Isolation 1/6

The Piece I'm Writing Today...

...is the type of piece that makes me thankful God gifted me with the ability to listen and to communicate what I've heard.

And that is all.

The past week has been a blur of work and helping another family member address a work crisis.

But even then, when I shared what had transpired to another laborer in the field, the response was, "I applaud her for standing up and doing what'd right."

May people always feel the same about us.

Illustration by Christopher Gleason for "Staked!" Follow him at artworkbytopher.com.

The Upside of a Crisis

Lately, I've been sifting through the drafts folder of this blog, looking at posts partly begun or, more the case, studying titles that are nothing more than titles and wondering about my intent.

This is one I titled on Oct. 14, 2010. And the other day, I stumbled upon this Bible verse: 

"Though the fig tree should not blossom, nor fruit be on the vines, the produce of the olive fail and the fields yield no food, the flock be cut off from the fold and there be no herd in the stalls,  yet I will rejoice in the Lord; I will take joy in the God of my salvation." Habakkuk 3:17-18

I can't say exactly what I intended to write that day. But I can certainly guess...and perhaps guess why this post was never written.

In August of that month, I had my eighth surgery (I've had six C/sections, one adrenalectomy, and the eighth to repair damage from the other seven). Recovery was fine for a couple weeks and then I had a HUGE flareup of hives (I've had chronic hives since 2002).

It sounds simple, but it wasn't. First of all, it's a chronic immune disorder, and I can't describe how awful the combinations of chemicals being released in one's body feels. I remember a nurse at one point taking my blood pressure and backing off a bit, because she could "feel" them.

A couple different medications were added to the regime. My body reacted pretty badly to them, and they didn't help the hives. Right around Oct. 14, could even have been Oct. 14, in the late afternoon, my doctor decided to hospitalize me.

I called my husband to tell him, and he said he was just going to call me. He had lost his job. And he wasn't laid off.

His job was half our income. And our insurance would be gone in two weeks. We had two weeks to figure out my health issue (which took another two months). He never did get another job; and we eventually lost the house his parents had built.

We've done a lot of rebuilding since then. 

But during that time, when our fig tree didn't blossom, and we didn't have fruit on our vines, and the produce of everything we had built on that property (including the places we remodeled and added to accommodate a youth group we ran for four years) stopped yielding, and our fields (and sometimes our cupboards and refrigerator) had little food, and we were cut off from our folds, and our herd of cats went to live in a small apartment, we never NOT rejoiced in the Lord.

Some days, rejoicing in the Lord was all we had to rejoice in.

We...I...didn't think about it that way at the time. It was a dark time. I remember telling one son how good God was to prepare us for death by giving us little deaths and losses along the way...

But seeing this verse brought that time to my attention in a particular way. Even when everything (and everyone) else fails us, we can still in the Lord, we can take joy in the God of our salvation. 

That is the upside of a crisis.

Christmas Preparations

It's not what you think.

It's reevaluating, reprioritizing, and making room for One that fills my being with love and wonder and joy - and opening up space at the inn to receive it.

It isn't always God that closes doors. The marvelous thing about free will is that He allows other people in our lives to do so, too. 

What's so great about something that sounds really horrible?

Because while we butt our aheads against a door that won't budge because someone else has firmly locked it and walked away, God gestures to another door, perhaps even several doors, and invites us to turn the handle.

Taking a breath...

BryonySeries Throwback Thursday: Playing God

Playing God

“God said, 'Let there be light,' and there was light.” Genesis 1:3.

As a Christian, I mostly focus on “God is love.” Except for the joyful experience of carrying seven children (one at a time), I’ve only given “God as creator” a polite nod.

Then I wrote three novels.

With fiction-writing, I caught a glimpse of God’s joy to speak something into being. “Let there be Munsonville,” I cried, and lo! Munsonville was, including Simons Woods and Lake Munson. I breathed the breath of life into my characters, and they lived (and died) at my word.

Anyone who sweats long hours at the keyboard knows building an imaginary world is not that simple, nor is it done in seven days. There's writing, rewriting, editing, and more rewriting. Yet, even God’s creation is not static, but ever-transforming.

But glorious? Heck yeah!

Who's Your Role Model?

That was one of the questions from the students at Joliet West High School, and it made me pause before answering. Since one question also was, "Who's your favorite author?" (I don't have one), I decided the response didn't have to be writer-based.

So, I replied, "Fr. Boris Zabrodsky," and proceeded to verbally introduce them to a remarkable man.

Fr. Boris has been my confessor, mentor, and godfather ever since I was received into the Eastern Orthodox Church in the summer of nineteen eighty-nine. My association with his church, St. Nicholas Orthodox Church in Homewood, Illinois, is and has been the source of my greatest spiritual growth. Here's why.

   *  Fr. Boris is one of the forerunners of the charismatic movement in the Eastern Orthodox Church. This movement has added a strong element of holy joy into a denomination that often presents itself in a staid and static manner.

   *  His motto and best spiritual advice is, "Walk in praise," and he means authentic, sincere praise directed to God because He is God, not a Pollyanna oblivion to harsh circumstances of life.

  *  Donations are voluntary. St. Nicholas does not pass a collection basket.

  *  He advocates congregational singing. Worship in the Eastern Orthodox Church is antiphonal, although in many churches, the "dialogue" occurs between clergy and choir. We have no choir. Rather, Fr. Boris has always encouraged full particpation by all, and we truly do "make a joyful noise."

  *  He embraces hard work. At seventy-eight, Fr. Boris is not only pastor, he is hall manager and head custodian. He does not administrate from afar, but is strongly present in all church affairs, sometimes to our annoyance.

  *   He's not afraid to get his hands dirty. St. Nicholas rests on a well and septic. Guess who does the all-too-frequent rodding?

  *  He has an interesting sense of humor. Anyone know the jokes about the three pastors and their wives that present themselves to St. Peter after perishing in an auto accident or the fellow that encounters the leprachaun on the golf course? Yep, I heard them from Fr. Boris.

  * He believes in asking for and bestowing forgiveness, presonally and frequently. If you doubt it, come check out our forgiveness line this Sunday.

  *  Because Fr. Boris accepts his own blemishes, I've learned not to take myself too seriously.

  *  He promotes a strong healing ministry, with emphasis on physical healing, as well as complete healing. St. Nicholas hosts a monthly healing service, although one may request anointing and prayer at any time. Fr. Boris is a chaplain at one hospital and visits four more. He does not limit his visits to his parishioners, but seeks out those separated from their own churches, individuals who need and/or desire a clergy presence.

 *  He's a proponent of prayer, especially for the sick and the dead. He prays often and spontaneously and reminds others to utilize the same opportunity.

 *  Most importantly, Fr. Boris focuses his ministry on the individual. His love truly covers a multitude of sins. He "adopts" people others consider hopeless and builds strong servants of the church, whether these are men ordained at St. Nicholas (eleven by my count, amazing for a small mission parish) and now serve other churches or the homeless who have found refuge and meaning within St. Nicholas' walls.

Each of these principles, really the foundational principles of Christianity, have profoundly influenced the way I parent my children, run my business, write my stories, and minister unto others. Although it will take a lifetime or two to perfect them, the task is simplified with a living example before me.

  

Nativity of Christ Troparion (Byzantine Chant)

The Good Samaritan Revisited: A Recipe for Building Fellowship in the World via Facebook

Last week, a most pressing engagement was unfortunately rescheduled in favor of a more pressing need: our water heater, just several months past its warranty expiration, had ceased functioning.

Now, I often unintentionally land in hot water, but when it’s unexpectedly dried up at its source with no tangible resources for quick replacement (especially when the dishes are stacked to the ceiling and a line is forming at the bathroom door for evening showers), it’s a miserable situation. So, fully trusting in God for wisdom and provision, I prayed and posted a double entendre on Facebook to amuse my family.

Someone I know only on Facebook responded with a silly comment, to which I added a one-sentence summary of our situation. She immediately messaged me and asked for a longer synopsis. I provided a brief sketch of our bleak financial situation and thanked her for the concern. In desperate moments, compassionate words are truly soothing. Rebekah proceeded to boil water for dishes and hair washings.

"I feel like Little House on the Prairie,” she said.

By next morning, this Facebook angel had located the lowest price for water heaters and solicited a family member to install it after he clocked out of work for the evening; would after six o’clock be convenient for us? When I offered to thank her in person, with a copy of Bryony in-hand, she postponed the suggestion  because she was fighting a virus.

As I emptied my scant savings, the bank teller, who knows of our situation, became a little chocked-up. I’m humming to the rendition of Winter Wonderland piping through the lobby’s speakers.

"It’s okay,” I told her. “It’s Christmas.”

The kind fellow who performed the installation, who had family at home waiting for him and who had to be on his feet again before dawn, stayed until ten o’clock, long enough to guarantee the glue had dried, nothing leaked, and that the new unit was properly heating water. Timothy connected well with him, so to speak, as he played both host and assistant while I hid in the attic and pounded out assignments.

With all the news stories about the dangers of the internet, online predators, identity robbers, and the like, as well the usual moaning of how texting and email have destroyed authentic communication, it’s heartening and humbling to know that social networking is just that, a means of connecting in a very rich and rewarding way with the other humans on this planet.

In this case, two people went out of their way to help me, at personal discomfort to themselves, not because they knew me or liked me, but because their characters are solid gold. I, for one, am humbled and grateful for their kindness and generosity, which made my world, not just my water, a little warmer.

Lucas Piano - "This is our God" (Hillsong Music Australia 2008)

Turn Your Eyes Upon Jesus-Keyboard Instrumental-Kevin Woolsey.wmv

Danny Thomas plays To God Be the Glory on piano

And Let the Games Begin

Changes are a-coming, and I'm not sure how I feel about them.

It means letting go--partly of necessity--of occupations I have enjoyed to embark on a scary new future. It's that "partly of necessity" that trips me up. That's not how I prefer making those decisions. I also don't like not seeing a clear road ahead. I am not a good night driver.

What's comforting is that the "rightness" of the decision is all too obvious, and that God goes before me, illuminating my way more brightly than even my van headlights can shine.

Last year, when my chronic hives flared up, I had bad reactions to TWO different medications to help control them, and my husband lost his job, my pastor one Sunday read the Gospel about when the apostles fished all night and caught nothing and how Jesus directed them to go farther out.

My pastor's message that day was not about faith. It was about being commanded go into the deep water, out of our comfort zone, where it's scary. That, however, is where the reward lies and that, once again, is where I being called.

I don't like it, but I trust the one making the call. Sooooo....I'm taking a deep breath and making the plunge.

On The Receiving End...Again

The August 28th entry of an author friend's blog (www.jenamorrow.blogspot.com), "Receiving Graciously 101," hit home stronger with me than anything I've recently read.

Many of us have grown up learning, "Tis Better To Give Than To Receive," and while we, in certain occasions, grumble a bit when giving is called of us (especially when it's related to a person we dislike, a distasteful task, or inconvenient timing), we are still more comfortable doing the giving than the receiving.

It's funny how God shakes that up.

Decades ago, when my oldest children were young, we were poor, "barely making the rent and relying on people sending food boxes," poor. Now I had grown up in an upper middle class home, so the concept of buying garage sales clothes or creating forty different dishes from condensed tomato soup because someone gave you a case of the stuff was foreign to me.

I remember choking down huge amounts of pride with my white bread and powdered milk until the day arrived when four items on my shopping list were packed neatly inside a box of anonymous food donations: a jar of Hellman's mayonnnaise and three child-sized Oral B toothbrushes. Only God knew I needed them, a stark reminder of who really was caring for us.

Then, a dozen years ago, ironically as a single parent, finances looked up. For the first time in my child-rearing years, I was paying all my bills on time. I had money in the bank, was remodeling my house, and didn't freak out every time a child got sick or needed a pair of shoes.

That trend continued after I married my second husband. We worked long, hard hours, but the money we made well compensated for it, enough that we invested quite a bit into our church and founding, running, and funding its youth programs.

Once the recession hit, the budget grew ugly. I thought, "I have lived through lean times. I can do this." And I cut and cut and cut until I had no place left to cut. So, instead of worrying over what I could not control, I tapped into my imagination and wrote a story that had lurked there for over twenty years, "Bryony."

A year ago, my husband lost his job and with it our health insurance. He called to tell just as I was callling him to say I was being admitted into the hospital for a yet undiagnosed disorder.

So, it's been a tough year, but for every challenge, problem, concern, crisis, emergency, we've had an unexpected blessing running parallel to it: prayers, gifts of motivational books AND chocolate, a former pastor sending monetary gifts by mail and our current pastor bring weekly bags of groceries, and new friend also going through a crisis sending a surprise gift at just the right time.

Once again pride stepped in and made the acceptance of that love hard. I shared my difficulty with my pastor, a former salesman that, when he gives a contrived compliment, I in return retort, "I don't need an insurance policy," but he is also a God-fearing man and a friend for more than thirty years. He only quietly said, "Maybe you have inspired some people along the way."

Because of the recession I wrote "Bryony," and because of "Bryony," I've learned more about writing than I ever could have gained otherwise, which sent additional paying gigs knocking at my virtual door. I've also met some kind-hearted, generous individuals that have been equally excited about the project, some of whom I know call friends.

Recently, someone volunteered some additional marketing services and a second person offered to professionally format my manuscripts, all free of charge. With the first, I'm swapping some editing for his book, but the second insists that she doesn't want to trade services; she just wants to something nice for me.

I've asked them both why they reached out to me in this fashion and both said, "Because God told me to do it." So how can I object to that?

"And this same God who takes care of me will supply all your needs from his glorious riches, which have been given to us in Christ Jesus." Philippians 4:19

An Irish Blessing For your Baptism Day

My daughter Sarah Stegall, Bryony's web administrator, and her family were in town this week for a funeral. This morning they are having their son, my grandson, baptized.

Now they are not Irish (unless the Ed Calkins, the Steward of Tara has uncovered and documented their hidden geneology), but "Bryony" has no greater fan or harder worker than Sarah, so this blessing seemed perfect.


An Irish Blessing For Your Baptism Day

May God grant you always
A sunbeam to warm you
A moonbeam to charm you
A sheltering angel so nothing can harm you
Laughter to cheer you
Faithful friends near you
And whenever you pray
Heaven to hear you.

I'm Behind and It's Getting Done Anyway, Go Figure!

"Well, in our country," said Alice, still panting a little, "you'd generally get to somewhere else -- if you ran very fast for a long time, as we've been doing."

"A slow sort of country!" said the Queen. "Now, here, you see, it takes all the running you can do, to keep in the same place. If you want to get somewhere else, you must run at least twice as fast as that!"
(Lewis Carroll, "Through the Looking Glass.")


Ever have days like this?

I'm having a few WEEKS like this. My family has gone from crisis to crisis, and everytime we think we're catching up, well, life tosses another little ball of trouble to play with.

It's only Monday and my "to-do" list is way longer than my "ta-da" list for all of last week. Just a few days ago, someone from Bryony's marketing team expressed real concern I'd have no time to attend events, etc. I assured him I would accomplish what I must accomplish.

This weekend, new challenges arose while others that loomed ferocious last week simply melted away. This morning, the weight of still more are pressing upon me, screaming for attention.

My publicist calls out of the blue, and I answer with a cheery, convoluted greeting I've already forgotten. No matter. She laughed and asked, "Do you invent these just for me?"

"No," I told her honestly, "They're to keep me sane."

Today, for all its stressors, has been a day of pleasant surprises.

For instance, erlier this month, I stepped out in faith and accepted an acquaintance's offer to shoulder a big project for me. I didn't understand the task, the time committment to her, and what the job entailed, but to outsource it would be expensive, so I reluctantly agreed, then stalled, figuring she'd forget about it.

She didn't. She called--many times--and insisted she could get it done for me in a timely fashion, so please, please, please do not outsource it. I prayed, then sent the information her way.

While she worked, I fretted. What if she had made empty promises? What if she exaggerated her abilities? After all, I only had her word she could do it. What if she an emergency on her home front prohibited completion? I was, after all, on deadline.

I even shared my fears with her. She just good-naturedly laughed at me and said, "God is in control." In return, I asked for step-by-step timelines and multiple reassurances of her ability to meet the deadline.

Then, this morning, there it was, sitting in my inbox. The most difficult part of the job was done, ready for my approval. It's beautiful and professionally formatted. She is now ready to tackle another project for me, out of the kindness of her heart. Is God not good?

So, with my heaping schedule overflowing, I squeezed an extra interview into my morning to help out a local pastor turned artist about his upcoming event.

I knew about the event months in advance, but the information I needed was not sent until Friday. His event is this Friday, almost too late to get a story sent in time, but I picked up the phone and called him anyway. Boy, am I glad I did.

Conversing with him was real joy. He fought depression after the death of a fellow pastor and found healing in painting. His delight in the process of creating spilled into his words. I knew that feeling from writing Bryony. I was happy I'd called.

A late afternoon appointment just cancelled, opening a door to dig into that stack of work. But first, I met with two lovely women to learn about a very special christening dress with an interesting "Bryony" twist.

Mums the word until the Herald News runs the story first.