Waiting

"Devote yourselves to prayer, being watchful and thankful" (Colossians 4:2)

I am learning about waiting as I have been doing a lot of it.  Waiting for doctor appointments. Waiting for test results. Waiting for something to help (today I am trying acupuncture and will let you know how it goes!). Waiting for God to answer my prayers for healing - not only for myself but for many other people in my life as well. Waiting. 
Waiting to see what life will hold. What it will be like. What I will be able to do. But really aren't we all to some extent?
We all experience seasons of waiting - some longer than others. But I think it isn't the fact of the waiting that is important, but rather what we do in the waiting. 

I have tried to rush the waiting. Been angry for having to wait. Denied that I was waiting. Been grateful for lessons learned in waiting.  Looked to myself for strength in the waiting.  Looked to God in the waiting.  Felt almost every emotion in the waiting.

I am slowly learning in the waiting that it is not the outcome that is the most important. It is being expectantly patient, watchful for God, thankful for the many gifts, being open to the divine moments of now. 

Our tendency, or at least mine, is to want to know the outcome. How much further until the finish line.  When life can move on.  But in saying that I realize, I already know my ultimate outcome.  I know I am made for more than this.  That one day I will be free from the bondage of sickness and be able to dance forever in His courts.  But I do not know when that will be either. But I long for that day.  
Yet in longing for that day, I do not forsake this day. 
For in today there is purpose. 
In the waiting, there is purpose. 

And the more I align my focus on Jesus, instead of recovery, the more I see the beautiful face of God and words of God in the now.  The less focused I become on the outcome of getting better, the more focused I become on giving Him glory in the times of waiting and hurting.  And as I begin to grow stronger in my faith, it doesn't matter how weak I am for I know that no matter how bashed and broken I am, Christ will be victorious in the end.  Even if the healing doesn't come this side of glory, I know it will come.  (And that isn't to say I have given up on the healing at all, for it is a strong cry of my heart - it just isn't the greatest cry of my heart.)

And in the waiting I need to trust, I need to be watchful of the sacred, I need to continue to prayer, and I must be thankful. After writing the previous sentence I stop and realize it is not that I need to actually do any of those things, I get to.  I get to trust in Christ alone and gain the comfort that comes from that instead of the fear that comes from hoping in recovery alone as it seems so far off right now.  I get to watch for the sacred and see God working in amazing ways around me - like the beautiful light at sunset that breaks through the clouds.  I get to pray to my Father and have the assurance that He hears my cries for healing and if it is His will, He will heal me now.  I get to be thankful because of the many gifts God has blessed me with. 

I get to wait on Him and in doing so, my focus changes to His amazing outcome that is always true.

And the skies and the heavens are above and close and coming down all around and we’re all out here in the rain and His reign and we’re born again in Him and we are His and we are found.
In Christ — no matter the road, the storm, the story — we always know the outcome.
Our Savior: surrounds.
Our future: secure.
Our joy: certain.

-Ann Voskamp @ aholyexperience

So in the waiting, I pray that both you and I will be able to move our focus on the outcome that is in Christ instead of the outcome of our own recovery.  That we would focus on Him. And in doing so feel Him surround us with His comforting arms, know our future is secure despite our insecurities in this life, and that our joy is certain in Him.

Dancing in the Rain

Today I find myself longing for the life I had more than I usually do.
But the more I think about this - the more I really think about what I long for - I begin to realize that it isn't the life I had that I truly long for.  I realize that although I would do pretty much anything in the hopes of getting better, I also wouldn't trade anything for the lessons I am learning through this.  My life has been forever changed, my journey has taken a different turn, and I believe it will be for the better.  That doesn't make it now pain and struggle free, but it does give hope.  It is something to hold on to.  That this experience (whether it lasts a long time or ends tomorrow) has opened my eyes to so many things and in doing so redirected my path and priorities.
It is something I hold on to but sometimes have a hard time remembering or focusing on - like this morning.
I woke up at 7am with huge amounts of pain running up my neck into my head. I felt paralyzed by the pain and was beyond grateful I was able to fall back asleep until after 9:30.  I awoke to the same pain but after some pain killers and a little massage from my wonderful sister who is visiting, it seemed to lighten.  (I have had to keep on top of the pain killers and take more time to write but it is so much better than this morning)
It is also raining and grey today. A day where I would previously have wished to curl up by the fire and read.  A day where I would not want to venture out of the house.  But today I wish I could just run outside and dance in the rain.
I think I long to do this, not because it was a common past time, but because it is something that made me feel alive.  The spontaneity of it is so refreshing and it always ended in laughter - such joy! Feeling the fresh rain on my skin and dancing without a care in the world seemed to make the world pause - the world of pain, obligations, expectations... Nothing seemed to matter for freedom was felt.

I think we all need to learn to dance in the rain.  No matter what storm we are in, whether it is a passing rain cloud or what seems to be a hurricane, we can choose to dance in the rain.  Choose to live in the moment we are in.
No matter how tired, weak, or lost we may feel, I believe that joy can be found.  But not if it is only wished for. It requires taking a step. Stepping out and doing something different.  Seeing things differently.  Being grateful for the gifts you are given in the moment.
I have sat and waited for joy - for a change.  Waited for the day I will feel well again.  Waited for my storm to pass. But I have learned that in the dark places, joy can still be found.  There is still so much to be thankful for. We can still dance - even if it means dancing to a different tune.  
I was having a really hard time hearing that tune and figuring out my steps this morning.  I was kind of stuck wishing for what was, instead of looking to what is now.
I received an email newsletter from Jeff Goins, a blogger I recently started following.  While reading it, I came across a sentence that struck a chord with me.  Helped me hear the tune of now, and not then, a little better.

Pay attention to the moment — this one, right now. It's all you have. And it's more sacred than you realize.

So I hope to find the right steps to dance to today's tune and pray that in whatever you are facing, you too learn to dance in the rain.  To find joy and freedom today - regardless of what storm you may be facing.  

And if you have never actually danced in the rain,  I dare you to do it sometime. Don't stop and think about it or try and find your rain coat, just go and dance.

A Change in Perspective

Today I returned to Richmond Hospital.  Thankfully not to stay but just to visit the CT scanner.  This time it was for my head.  It was odd having my head strapped down but otherwise it was quick and the technician was really nice.  I had to have the IV contrast dye again, which gives this weird warm feeling as it goes through your blood stream.  As bizarre as it is, it is so cool.  Yes, it makes you feel like you have peed your pants but it is incredible because it goes through the body so quickly.  Within seconds your whole body gets this warm sensation.  How marvelous our circulatory system is!  How fearfully and wonderfully made we are!

Click here to check out Sevenly!

That is one thing that being sick makes you realize.  The complexity of our bodies truly has no explanation other than divine creation.  It is awe-inspiring.  For everything to function is an absolute miracle - a miracle that too often is taken for granted.  Today I ordered a print from Sevenly (an amazing organization that gives $7 from every item purchased to a weekly cause; this week it is CURE International to provide babies in Uganda with life saving brain surgeries!) and the print reads as follows:

Someone is praying for the things you take for granted

I think that is a good reminder - a perspective changer.  Being in bed has given me a lot of time to think.  To think about what I place importance on.  To think about the things that I make my priority.  To think about what I have and what I have been blessed with.  But I have not always taken the time I have been given to work through lessons and realize the blessings.  I have sat and just cried.  I have been angry with God.  I have had to examine what I believe to be true.  I have sat in denial and disbelief of my situation.  I have sat in the dark valleys.  But you know, I am actually thankful for those times.  The times when I could not seem to find God.  The times when I realized I actually was mad at Him for changing what I had planned for my life (like really who do I think I am?).  For in those times, He really is there.  "Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death I will fear no evil for You are with me; Your rod and Your staff, they comfort me"  (Psalm 23:4).  He is there in the sun shining, my mother's embrace, the mother duck guiding her babies along, the peace that passes understanding, the joy unexplained bubbling up in my soul, the comfort that seems to never leave...
But I still take so much for granted: God's eternally unconditional kind of love, my family being by my side to hold me up when I am faint and bring me food and drive me to the doctor, to have a doctor, a car, a bed, a life.
Today while waiting for my CT I was reminded that things really are not that bad.  Despite me sitting in a wheelchair, I was definitely not the sickest of the bunch waiting to have my head or some other part scanned.  One man looked as though he were made of bone and skin alone.  But you know, he seemed happy.  He had a smile on his face and his wife beside him.  Being in the hospital today caused me to open my eyes a little wider to the blessings in my life.  To the miracles that occur every day here.  To the beautiful divine words of God.  To the everyday blessings that bring joy to my heart.  To knowing I am His and He is mine.