My Cinderella

Cinderella at her ball? Very blessed, but only until midnight. What a challenge...to live like there's no tomorrow, to embrace every single blessed moment, knowing there really is a tomorrow, and it's a sorrowful one.

Cinderella knew she'd go back to her mean step-sisters, her evil step-mother. But while she danced, she danced with joy, with abandon, even forgetting her deadline, until she heard the striking clock.

My little Beth? My very own princess? Thanks to prednisone to get her through a medication transition, she has a week to live like Cinderella at the ball. No pain, no swelling. She can finally run, and jump. She can keep up with her athletic sister.

I watch her run around the house, around the yard, and I marvel. Just how it used to be. My little girl with the contagious giggle, the contagious joy. I am so happy for her, tears spill.

But oral prednisone is dangerous, only to be used for emergencies, for small doses of time. It carries with it potentially serious side effects. Many mothers, I'm sure, praise it and give thanks for the miracles it works in their asthma-weakened children. But they grieve too, that it's needed in the first place. They think about the future, about the damage it might do.

In about five days, my girl will probably feel the thorn in her flesh again. She might get out of bed, plant her feet down, only to slump to the floor, unable to put any weight on her achy knees. Not quite this bad every morning, but often enough that she knows the pain of defeat, first thing in the morning.

Our challenge, my princess and me? To savor these days as a gift from Heaven above. To thank our precious Lord for a body that works, if only for a week. To live like there's no bitter tomorrow. To embrace it all, even the ending, while still praying for spontaneous remission.

And to trust Him, in all His plans, knowing that they're beautiful, purposeful. Like Cinderella marrying her prince, Beth will have her reward from Him, and it will be sweet.

Friend, I don't know what sorrow has come your way. But I know Him. He is mighty to save. Embrace your today, clinging to Him. I'd be honored to pray for you. You can leave your request in the comments, which I've switched to blog-owner approval. I'll be faithful, friend. Your prayer request won't post to the public.

James 1:12
Blessed is the man who perseveres under trial, because when he has stood the test, he will receive the crown of life that God has promised to those who love him.


2 Corinthians 12:9
But he said to me, "My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness." Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ's power may rest on me.


James 1:2
Dear brothers and sisters, when troubles come your way, consider it an opportunity for great joy.


Romans 5:3
Not only so, but we also rejoice in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance;

Linking with Jen today

Amazing Works of God

Sometimes, living in blessed America, we miss out on truly amazing works of God. I have a very short story for you today. One you'll never forget!

Gerald, a Ugandan Child Development Center Officer, recounts:

Anne was one of those children at Bugolobi Child Development Center who gave their lives to Jesus Christ every day after the altar call at the center. She had done this for the three years she was part of our Child Sponsorship Program.

As a Child Development Officer at the center then, I did not know whether Anne and the other children took salvation seriously or, better still, whether they understood what salvation was. It was not until Anne turned 10 that I understood that God honors a child’s commitment to Christ, and He gives such a child His Spirit, too.

At the age of 10, Anne began taking a bus to and from the Compassion Child Development Center. One Saturday, two women who appeared friendly on the bus, kidnapped her, taking her to the hut of a witch doctor. Anne recounts:

“I was taken to a small hut. The man inside the hut saw me and told the women that his spirits did not like the Holy Spirit inside me. He said that the women should go and bring another child to sacrifice.”

The two women abandoned Anne in the Ugandan bush. With God's help, Anne walked back to the main highway, and then to a police station.

Gerald, the Child Development Center Officer at the time, recounts:

When we got Anne back, we took her for trauma counseling. She found strength to testify before fellow children at the center. Her testimony moved the one hundred and fifty plus children in attendance that Saturday to commit their lives to Jesus Christ and ask God to give them His Spirit.

Anne reiterated to the fellow children that when children give their lives to Jesus, God gives them His Spirit

I have included only excerpts of this story. Click on the Compassion link below to read the story in its entirety.

Courtesy of Compassion International: http://blog.compassion.com/when-god-gives-us-his-spirit-it-is-recognizable/#ixzz1kIQgHxkM

Laughter

My children play hard. Laugh hard. Their made-up games occurred indoors many days in a row, giving me a close-up view of childhood. The main ingredients? Thrill and delight. They love being together, that's the delight, and they love being thrilled. Locked in a dungeon, or hiding in a cave and waiting for a bear to arrive. Or being a bandit running from a sheriff. Or a hiker hiding from a wolf.

Along with the Holy Spirit, they opened my eyes this week. My word of the year? I chose balance. I perceived an imbalance, thinking it pertained to time management. Wrong.

There's an emotional imbalance in the adults here. We don't live for thrill and delight, the way our children do. We don't laugh enough, often exuding stress instead. Our children live happy in spite of us, most of the time. Their delight in each other is their daily salvation.

Not long ago Peter remarked: "Mommy, you aren't as happy as you were before Beth's arthritis. I remember you used to turn up the music and dance with us." He grieved when he said it; he wasn't accusing me of wrongdoing.


A few days later he found a photo of Daddy, laughing. "Will Daddy ever be that happy again, Mommy?"

Don't get me wrong--I delight in the Lord; He gives me joy. But laughter is pain medicine too. Laughter bonds. Laughter starts in fellowship.

So my revised, narrowed-down word for 2012? Laughter.

I'm going to participate with my children in the thrill of chase. As an act of love, I'm going to make them laugh every day, regardless of whether I feel like it. I'm going to be obedient to the Holy Spirit's promptings in this, leaving the rest up to God.

Children need to hear laughter from Mommy and Daddy. Play signals wellness. It's an outward sign that everything's going to be okay.

photo credit

Upside-Down Living

She nursed at least twenty times in twenty-four hours...as a three-year-old, not a newborn. I once read that breastmilk is a natural pain reliever; I'm inclined to believe that. Her arthritis medicine is certainly not meeting her pain needs.


While she fared better the first half of the day, her afternoon crashed. Her long nap ended in pain and stiffness, leaving her unable to walk. We dealt with hysterics for nearly an hour, stopped only by me nursing her again and again. It quieted our frazzled nerves.


I pleaded with God. How do I handle this constant pouring out? How do I handle the despair of seeing a three-year-old live with chronic pain? So many other issues and duties here, too, besides arthritis. My OCD son goes to the dentist soon. He fights the notion that they're possibly evil and will do something deadly to him. The more stress the arthritis causes, the more his OCD acts up.


I'm helpless, other than my Momma milk. Thank you for that comfort, God. Where would our family be without it? The therapist explained that the pain of arthritis is like an on-going toothache. Daytime activities can distract from the pain, but at night, it screams louder. 


Nursing quiets her pain in the middle of the night, so the other children can get sufficient sleep, and so she can go back to sleep


His answer to my pleas? At least a dozen names of people who need prayer. He has me walk in and out of prayer all day. When trouble piles here, that's His answer, along with everyday graces and blessings:  


~ Sunshine turning new snow into glitter. 
~ Bright red cardinals landing in the snow near our window.
~ The cutest things coming out of young mouths.
~ Bonding over baking and eating cookie dough.
~ Cuddles on couches.
~ Beautiful storybooks.
~ Children who love Him.


Intercessory prayer an answer to a despairing heart? How does it help those under my roof, when we need something from Him?


Why does He ask more of me, when I'm pleading for relief?


The Christian life, when lived well, is an upside down phenomena. When you need more love, love more. When you need more time, give more of yours. When you need comfort, give it away. When you need prayer, pray for others. When you need Him, be Him to others. 


It's a profound mystery, but it works. My despair gives way to joy. My self-involved thoughts abruptly end, so I can love others. We can't love when we focus inward. Love is a pouring out. 


Jesus poured out everything. He calls us to do likewise. The keywords? Outward focus, not inward. A heart that has received His love, can pour it out.


1 John 4:7-12
Dear friends, let us love one another, for love comes from God. Everyone who loves has been born of God and knows God. ⁸ Whoever does not love does not know God, because God is love. ⁹ This is how God showed his love among us: He sent his one and only Son into the world that we might live through him. ¹⁰ This is love: not that we loved God, but that he loved us and sent his Son as an atoning sacrifice for our sins. ¹¹ Dear friends, since God so loved us, we also ought to love one another. ¹² No one has ever seen God; but if we love one another, God lives in us and his love is made complete in us.

Scripture source

Photo source

You Always Have to Trust God, Mommy!

We're driving in snow, late for a physical therapy appointment and I'm angry for the first time since Beth's diagnosis. A nasty flare started two days into her new medication. Did the doctor prepare me for this possibility? No. She said nothing about any changes we might experience. So I naturally assumed a smooth transition, punctuated by my daughter eating better. She is eating better.


It took all of us to get her walking today. When she could finally put weight on her legs, her gait looked scary, with one leg swinging around straight, as though wooden. 


I'm angry, God, and I don't want to be...not after reading this:


Upon reaching Darwin’s house, I found three children sleeping in a small room with no windows or doors. The youngest was in the best spot, an old and dirty baby carriage; his 6-year-old brother was on top of him. I heard the cry of a child alongside his brothers. He was lying on the dirt floor among wet stones. It was Darwin. He was using dirty clothes as a pillow and was crying from pain and cold.

When I saw him I felt his pain, poverty and distress. I couldn’t contain myself and I cried. At that moment I felt the pain of a mother, sister and daughter. It was the Holy Spirit who grieved at the scene.


Courtesy of Compassion International: http://blog.compassion.com/a-spirit-of-power-and-love/#ixzz1jt5S4qgC 



My child suffers; her face advertises pain. But is her pain the result of a world who bought Starbucks lattes, instead of helping the poor? Is she in pain because no one cared enough? (Some don't even realize abject poverty exists. That's why I write Compassion posts).


Some pain screams for anger. But not the pain of arthritis. I have no right.


My thoughts toss wild the whole drive to therapy. While there, I notice the therapist's ring finger for the first time. Probably around thirty-two years old, the mom of two young boys, she sports no wedding ring. A single mom. I marvel. No faith and no husband. How hard is her life?


How long had it been since I'd prayed for Bea? Too long. Lost in the world of a special-needs child, I'd forgotten. 


Which sounds better...to live with the pain of arthritis for perhaps a decade or longer, or to spend eternity in hell? Beth will most likely go to heaven. But Bea? Where will she go? 


I'd been reminded during the Book of Revelation sermons. Hell doesn't mean horrible punishment, followed by death. It's eternal suffering; we are eternal beings, all of us. The question is...where will we spend eternity?


My anger melted right there. God wants souls won. He wants to save every person from eternal suffering. As Bea charmed my daughter into painful exercises, the main thing slapped me in the face. 

Later, driving to AWANA, the van sputters. Looking down at the panel, I notice the gas level. Beyond empty. We've got a problem. 


I enlist prayers and we all begin chanting our own versions of: God, please save us!


The engine gives out. My meandering thoughts to and from therapy? They kept me from noticing the gas level.


Roughly 10 degrees outside. Snowing. 5:45 pm. Husband not due home for 75 minutes. I drive past the AWANA church, knowing a gas station looms ahead.


Why didn't you drop us off, first?


I might need your help if we run out of gas.


You mean to push the van?


Um, no. To comfort Beth.


When the engine gave out, we'd just reached the top of a hill. I coast down, marveling at my Heavenly Father. Turning into the gas station, the steering wheel tightens. And the breaks? Barely working. Does the entire car stop working with no gas? I don't recall ever running out before--at least not while in the driver's seat.


We don't make it to the pump. I get out and try to push, to no avail. Peter's nerves give out some. Getting back in, I turn the key to off, and then try starting it again. Bingo. Just enough to park myself crooked, but sort of adjacent to the pump.


The older three make it to AWANA six minutes late, after much cheering. 


God, you are awesome! We love you! Thank you! You saved us!


Mary: You always have to trust God, Mommy!


I'll fall asleep fine tonight, thanks to the comforting wisdom of a five-year-old. I still don't like arthritis or a doctor who leaves me hanging. 


But God's purposes? They're not hard to understand. Every person. With Him. In Paradise.


That's why a young boy in Lima cries from pain and cold and uses dirty clothes as a pillow. That's why my daughter suffers pain and stiffness and needs to see Bea every week. 


Pain highlights His power and glory. He works wonders through pain. We're a distracted world, unable to see. But He sees and He knows. He saves, in spite of us.