Dear Me Letter

In response to Ann Voskamp's "Dear Me Letter" post and challenge

Dear me,

Above all, remember God is faithful. His mercies are new every morning, and His compassions never fail. He is faithful, and His faithfulness is great. He is good and kind, trustworthy and true.

You listened to a writer recently who quoted another writer, who said, "Every writer only has one theme, and mine is love." That got you thinking, what is your one theme?

What you're realizing and don't really want to accept is that your theme is brokenness, or perhaps better, the sufficiency of God's grace in brokenness. Your imagination keeps returning to the idea of the kintsugi Christian, a broken person mended with gold, more beautiful after the breaking than before. It is a beautiful idea, but the cost of such a testimony frightens you. So much brokenness already. So many losses. Is that to be the pattern always? If His golden beauty in the soul's dark night is the theme of your song, is breaking and mending, breaking and mending, breaking and mending to be the rhythm of all the days of your weary Shadowlands pilgrimage?

I don't know that. Loss is engraved so indelibly in this postlapsarian life, as it was on our Savior's (and is even now in ascended, nail-scarred glory); such a rhythm is a distinct possibility.

But I know this: if such is your calling, your testimony, God will be faithful in it. He will unfold joys and beauties in the brokenness that would not be yours otherwise. The grace and courage and strength will be there when you need it, though likely not before. The fearful imaginings of impending losses, realized in full, omit the imaginings of the sweet presence of God in their midst.

What's more, consider the outcome of such breaking and mending, breaking and mending, breaking and mending. Every cycle will make you more of gold and less of clay. Every breaking will cause His light and glory to shine through you more brightly, until your journey is complete and you are like Him when you see Him face to face.

Courage, dear heart. Life is hard. There will be more death-shadowed valleys before the end. But Christ is worthy. He is worthy, and He is with you. You will never be alone or abandoned by Him.

Dive ever deeper into His presence in His Word, and soar ever higher into His presence in prayer. If brokenness is to be your theme, let Him be your song in the house of your pilgrimage.

You can trust God with this. 

cm

#DearMeLetter #SummerOfJournalling

At the Threshold of the Year

 A Reflection on the Year 2021

Sunset at home, 12/31/2021

Unchanging, everlasting God—

El Olam—

Here I kneel

(In spirit though unable in body)

At the threshold between

This year and the next.

Lord, my heart still stings,

Raw from the many griefs of this hard year,

The dreams dashed,

The hopes deferred,

The tears wept,

The trials endured,

The promises broken,

The trust betrayed,

The upheaval wreaking havoc

And revealing where my true trust lies,

The beloved ones lost,

The beloved ones being lost.

(Not on my shoulders,

But in Your hands.)

 

I praise You, Lord,

That hope in You is never deferred.

Your promises always come true,

In every jot and tittle,

No word falling to the ground unfulfilled.

You gave Isaac to Abraham against all odds,

At the exact time You had said.

You brought forth Israel’s deliverer Moses

In the very year promised to

The patriarch generations and centuries before

The heel-snatching twin and

The prime minister of Egypt

Were even twinkles in their fathers’ eyes.

You sent Your people into Babylonian exile,

Then opened the path for their return,

According to the seventy years

Predicted by the prophet Jeremiah

And claimed in prayer by the prophet Daniel.

Messiah was cut off—

Hung on a cross,

Pierced with nails and spear,

Buried in a rich man’s tomb—

In the precise way

At the precise kairos hour

You foretold through Your faithful

Isaiah, David, and Daniel.

He, Messiah, rose on the third day,

Just as He promised His disciples

And according to the sign of Jonah.

You poured out Your Spirit on Your children

At Pentecost, the Feast of Weeks,

An outpouring Joel had prophesied

And Jesus had promised.

 

You place Your bow in the clouds today,

Again and again the rainbow,

Noah’s sign in the skies,

That storm and flood may

Rage and thunder, but never again

Will they prove the end of us

And of this beautiful, terrible planet we love so.

Heaven and earth will flee away in Your appointed time,

But not through the agency of

Himalayan-drowning, Rocky-gouging floods.

Rescue will again come,

But not through an ark of wood to carry

Families of men and animals over the waves.

Rescue will come and has come,

Through the Lamb Jesus slain on a cross of wood,

To bear the sin of those who trust Him

And give to them His righteousness,

And the priceless pearl of

Adoption as sons and daughters of God.

 

We have Your Word

(And You cannot lie),

Your covenant oath,

Your history of impossible promises fulfilled;

We have the daily signs of

Morning and evening, assuring us

Of Your unfailing steadfast love,

And Your interminable, limitless mercies.

Great is Your faithfulness!

 

Even in all the wounds and brokenness

This year has wrought, like

Floodwaters carving up our own stony hearts,

Forbid it, Lord, that I should fail

To recognize Your gracious consolations.

You were in the desolations,

Though I perceived You not,

And You were in the consolations,

The sweet blessings that strengthened weak hands

And made firm feeble knees.

Thank You, Promise Keeper, Almighty God,

For Your presence in all our tribulations,

For Your Word in every need,

For every drop of anguish that amplifies our need of You;

For the lives spared,

For the service You enabled,

For the hours of hymns sung through masks to a dying woman,

For the yarn crafted into comfort, love, and help;

For unearthing happy memories,

For times spent in Your glorious creation,

For open doors of opportunities;

For reunion with loved ones after months of separation,

For sisters biological and spiritual,

For Your servants newly consecrated with laying on of hands

And prayer,

For technology bringing distant teaching, worship, and celebration

To my kitchen and my comfortable chair;

For unexpected, miniscule health progress,

For clear cancer scans,

For milestone celebrations;

For the miracle of monarch metamorphosis

Observed in all its stages,

Your profuse, offhand wonder

Passing unnoticed myriad times a day until

The serendipity of scrutiny from

A vantage point of inches.

“Lord of all, to Thee we raise

This our joyful hymn of praise.”

 

These happy eucharisteos also

We lay upon Your altar;

This weight of blessing,

As much as the weight of sorrow,

We roll into Your strong, pierced hands.

For the glad things and the sad things,

We love You, trust You, praise You.

(Not on my shoulders,

But in Your hands.)

Bandage our wounds

And revive our hearts with

Hope and joy from You for the year ahead.

You have gone before us

And will meet us there,

For Jesus’ sake.

 

Amen.

 

12-31-21

Monarch Emergence {Video}

 In addition to the 17 butterflies we sheltered and fed from the caterpillar stage to their readiness to fly into the world, we have discovered a half-dozen empty chrysalides scattered around the backyard. They attached to the trim board at the top of the fence. The Lord didn't need us to save them, clearly. The butterfly sanctuary was a blessing He gave us.

In addition, in mid-October I discovered a chrysalis in its final day, suspended like a parachute from the underside of several leaves of a vine. The chrysalis takes a fortnight, more or less, for the transformation within. The caterpillar is attached and immobile for more than a day prior to that. For more than two weeks, this caterpillar-turned-chrysalis had hung precariously with no possibility of fight or flight. During that time we experienced at least a week's worth of extremely windy days and one night of severe thunderstorms with even stronger winds, lightning, and very heavy rain. As delicate as the cords of attachment appeared, it outlasted and overcame what looked to me like impossible odds.

As I said, I didn't discover this chrysalis until the black and orange of the wings were clearly visible. From that, I knew the butterfly would likely emerge the same day. After several progress checks, I peeked at it one more time on the way out the door to a medical appointment. By the gracious providence of God, that was the exact moment it emerged. What a joy to behold!

Here is the slideshow/video of that experience. May it give you joy and a taste of awe to brighten your day.

Gentle and Lowly {A Book Review}

One of my favorite C. S. Lewis quotes comes from the preface to his book The Problem of Pain: “…when pain is to be borne, a little courage helps more than much knowledge, a little human sympathy more than much courage, and the least tincture of the love of God more than all.” The newest offering by Dane Ortlund, Gentle and Lowly: The Heart of Christ for Sinners and Sufferers (Crossway, 2020), offers more than a little courage, profound human sympathy, and an overflowing abundance of the love of God. It is the soul medicine God knew we needed to rest in Him in these tumultuous and Homesick times. This is a book for ragamuffins, black sheep, and dutiful disciples in desperate need of fresh wonder at the glorious grace of God in Christ. In short, it is my favorite book of 2020 to this point.

Ortlund’s thinking has clearly been steeped in the Puritans’ writings as well as the Scriptures. He often quotes their work, especially Thomas Goodwin and Richard Sibbes, but not in an intimidating or academic way. Instead, it’s like sharing a meal with a well-read friend who is so captivated by these books that he can’t help himself from sharing the joy of his favorite passages.

 

The writing is beautiful, companionable, sometimes funny, and often moving. The last non-fiction book that brought tears to my eyes the way this one did was F. B. Meyer’s The Shepherd Psalm, and that read was 5 years ago. Ortlund’s prose reaches the wounded places of the heart with healing balm. As soon as I finished,  I wanted to read it over again. Truly, it is that good and a well-timed help.

 

Here are a few of my favorite passages:

 

 

“This book is written for the discouraged, the frustrated, the weary, the disenchanted, the cynical, the empty. Those running on fumes. Those whose Christian lives feel like constantly running up a descending escalator. Those of us who find ourselves thinking: ‘How could I mess up that bad—again?’ It is for that increasing suspicion that God’s patience with us is wearing thin. For those of us who know God loves us but suspect we have deeply disappointed him. Who have told others of the love of Christ yet wonder if—as for us—he harbors mild resentment. Who wonder if we have shipwrecked our lives beyond what can be repaired. Who are convinced we’ve permanently diminished our usefulness to the Lord. Who have been swept off our feet by perplexing pain and are wondering how we can keep living under such numbing darkness. Who look at our lives and know how to interpret the data only by concluding that God is fundamentally parsimonious. It is written, in other words, for normal Christians. In short, it is for sinners and sufferers” (Kindle location 146).

 

 

“But I am a great sinner, say you. ‘I will in no wise cast out,’says Christ. But I am an old sinner, say you. ‘I will in no wise cast out,’ says Christ. But I am a hard-hearted sinner, say you. ‘I will in no wise cast out,’ says Christ. But I am a backsliding sinner, say you. ‘I will in no wise cast out,’ says Christ. But I have served Satan all my days, say you. ‘I will in no wise cast out,’ says Christ.  But I have sinned against light, say you. ‘I will in no wise cast out,’ says Christ. But I have sinned against mercy, say you. ‘I will in no wise cast out,’ says Christ.  But I have no good thing to bring with me, say you. ‘I will in no wise cast out,’ says Christ. This promise was provided to answer all objections, and does answer them” (quoting John Bunyan, Kindle location 756).

 

 

“Have we considered the loveliness of the heart of Christ? Perhaps beauty is not a category that comes naturally to mind when we think about Christ. Maybe we think of God and Christ in terms of truth, not beauty. But the whole reason we care about sound doctrine is for the sake of preserving God’s beauty, just as the whole reason we care about effective focal lenses on a camera is to capture with precision the beauty we photograph. Let Jesus draw you in through the loveliness of his heart. This is a heart that upbraids the impenitent with all the harshness that is appropriate, yet embraces the penitent with more openness than we are able to feel. It is a heart that walks us into the bright meadow of the felt love of God. It is a heart that drew the despised and forsaken to his feet in self-abandoning hope. It is a heart of perfect balance and proportion, never overreacting, never excusing, never lashing out. It is a heart that throbs with desire for the destitute. It is a heart that floods the suffering with the deep solace of shared solidarity in that suffering. It is a heart that is gentle and lowly. So let the heart of Jesus be something that is not only gentle toward you but lovely to you. If I may put it this way: romance the heart of Jesus. All I mean is, ponder him through his heart. Allow yourself to be allured. Why not build in to your life unhurried quiet, where, among other disciplines, you consider the radiance of who he actually is, what animates him, what his deepest delight is? Why not give your soul room to be reenchanted with Christ time and again? When you look at the glorious older saints in your church, how do you think they got there? Sound doctrine, yes. Resolute obedience, without a doubt. Suffering without becoming cynical, for sure. But maybe another reason, maybe the deepest reason, is that they have, over time, been won over in their deepest affections to a gentle Savior. Perhaps they have simply tasted, over many years, the surprise of a Christ for whom their very sins draw him in rather than push him away. Maybe they have not only known that Jesus loved them but felt it” (Kindle location 1222).

 

“Christ’s heart for us means that he will be our never-failing friend no matter what friends we do or do not enjoy on earth. He offers us a friendship that gets underneath the pain of our loneliness. While that pain does not go away, its sting is made fully bearable by the far deeper friendship of Jesus. He walks with us through every moment. He knows the pain of being betrayed by a friend, but he will never betray us. He will not even so much as coolly welcome us. That is not who he is. That is not his heart.” (Kindle location 1493).

 

“To you I say, do you know what Jesus does with those who squander his mercy? He pours out more mercy. God is rich in mercy. That’s the whole point. Whether we have been sinned against or have sinned ourselves into misery, the Bible says God is not tightfisted with mercy but openhanded, not frugal but lavish, not poor but rich. That God is rich in mercy means that your regions of deepest shame and regret are not hotels through which divine mercy passes but homes in which divine mercy abides. It means the things about you that make you cringe most, make him hug hardest. It means his mercy is not calculating and cautious, like ours. It is unrestrained, flood-like, sweeping, magnanimous. It means our haunting shame is not a problem for him, but the very thing he loves most to work with. It means our sins do not cause his love to take a hit. Our sins cause his love to surge forward all the more. It means on that day when we stand before him, quietly, unhurriedly, we will weep with relief, shocked at how impoverished a view of his mercy-rich heart we had.” (Kindle location 2290).

 

 

“This is a book about the heart of Christ and of God. But what are we to do with this? The main answer is, nothing. To ask, ‘Now how do I apply this to my life?’ would be a trivialization of the point of this study. If an Eskimo wins a vacation to a sunny place, he doesn’t arrive in his hotel room, step out onto the balcony, and wonder how to apply that to his life. He just enjoys it. He just basks. But there is one thing for us to do. Jesus says it in Matthew 11:28. ‘Come to me….’

“Go to him. All that means is, open yourself up to him. Let him love you. The Christian life boils down to two steps: 1. Go to Jesus. 2. See #1.” (Kindle location  2739, 2749)

 

 ***********************

(Note: Crossway provided me a complimentary digital copy of this book in exchange for an honest review posted to an online bookstore.)

To purchase a copy of Gentle and Lowly,  here are a few options.

Directly from the publisher: https://www.crossway.org/books/gentle-and-lowly-hcj/

Christian Book Distributors:  https://www.christianbook.com/gentle-lowly-heart-christ-sinners-sufferers/dane-ortlund/9781433566134/pd/566134

Lifeway: https://www.lifeway.com/en/product/gentle-and-lowly-P008012691

Amazon: https://amzn.to/38gv5tV (This one is an affiliate link. At no additional cost to you, I will receive a small commission for purchases made through it.)

A Routine Mammogram Saved My Life (But Not How You Think)

 

Next month will mark one year for me as a breast cancer survivor. I feel a bit of an imposter calling myself that because I didn’t have chemo or even radiation for my cancer, but that is the medical fact. I had breast cancer.

 

When Mom and I went for our routine mammograms last November, I wasn’t worried at all about the potential findings. All my concern went toward helping my mom through the morning and minimizing her anxiety and confusion. We went to a tea room in an antiques mall afterward, and it was a good day.

 

I would call it my next-to-last normal day, except it’s not normal to live with chronic pain and disability from autoimmune disease, or to be losing your mom a memory at a time. So let’s call it the next-to-last normally abnormal day.

 

The morning after the morning after my routine mammogram, the nurse called. “Hey, so Dr. J got your mammogram results back, and there was one small abnormal area. She told me to tell you not to worry. We see this all the time, and it’s probably fibrocystic changes. So don’t worry. You need to call the mammography center and schedule a second mammogram that will get some more focused pictures. Okay?”

 

So I went back for a second mammogram, and after the test the tech led me, still wearing the “cape” that substitutes for a hospital gown there, to a room with a couple of other caped women while she waited for the radiologist to review the images. Her solemn face on her return told me to brace myself as she walked me back to the doctor’s office. In that dark room, lit primarily by the glowing screens on one wall, the doctor told me that I probably had breast cancer. Very early, and we wouldn’t know for sure until a biopsy, but still. Suddenly we had moved from “probably not” to “probably so.”

 

He showed me a scattering of tiny white pin dots on my imaging, invisible until he embiggened them. They were microcalcifications, he said, and they weren’t supposed to be there. Sometimes they happened with age, but sometimes they were produced by cancer cells.

 

The radiologist performed the biopsy the week after Thanksgiving. It would have gone well, except that of course I fainted midway through and we had to start over from the beginning with me lying down. Through all of this, we had not said anything to Mom, but we had to tell her about the biopsy so she would be gentle in hugging me that week. We downplayed it as much as possible, but she was still worried.

 

Thankfully she had forgotten and stopped asking Dad about it by the time my doctor called at 9:30 at night on the feast of St. Nicholas to say the biopsy found breast cancer: very early (stage zero), very small (4 mm), very treatable. Ductal cell carcinoma in situ. DCIS for short. She would send my records and a referral to a surgeon she respected, and we’d go from there. She seemed as surprised as we were, as we rehashed family medical history and lifestyle choices. “I mean, really, your only risk factor is being female.”

 

Except it wasn’t.

 

Because I am considered young for a breast cancer diagnosis, the surgeon ordered genetic testing, even though there is no history of breast cancer in the 4 generations of my family I know well from genealogy research.

 

After weeks of waiting, additional testing, and notebooks full of literature, the surgeon called me on Epiphany, minutes before I walked out the door for an unrelated medical appointment.  She was calling to tell me the genetic testing showed I have a BRCA2 mutation. My head spun as she rattled off the litany of kinds of cancer for which this increases risk. The bottom line was that the mutation caused my breast cancer and was actually more serious than the cancer it caused.  And because of the timing, the first person I told was not my husband, not my mom, but my gum surgeon. There wasn’t time to call Amore before leaving for the appointment, and I knew this was not a conversation to have while driving a car.  (Also,  I was just praying for Grace to hold me together at that moment, until I could fall apart in private later.)

 

Most women with a cancer caused by a genetic mutation choose a preventive double mastectomy. If you know me well or long, you know that I am not most women. Trauma such as surgery can cause autoimmune symptoms to flare, and we believe much of my present disability originated in a surgery a decade ago. We knew we needed to remove the existing cancer, but we also now knew an additional surgery to remove my ovaries was necessary soon to address the high ovarian cancer risk the mutation caused and to reduce breast cancer recurrence risk.

 

After much thought, prayer, and research,  we chose a lumpectomy in late January, when the viral exposure concern was influenza. All this time, Mom still did not know I had cancer, until a few days before the surgery.

 

Thanks be to God, the surgery and recovery went smoothly, and the surgeon got generous clear margins. I got a new 3” scar that proclaims to the mirror that I am a breast cancer survivor.

 

The oncology team determined that, for me, radiation was not appropriate, but a hormone-blocking medication for 5-10 years was. We praise God that the new medicine has also been without side effects or interactions. Two weeks ago, the same doctor who called me on that Friday night did the surgery to remove my ovaries and Fallopian tubes. Add 4 more Morse-code dashes of scars to the total.

 

My mom’s cognitive function has declined this year to the point that we decided as a family not to tell her about the genetic mutation, anti-cancer medication, or even this recent surgery. That has been lonely, perhaps even the hardest part of the ordeal. When you’re sick or distressed, no one gives TLC like your mother. Mine is alive, 3 blocks away, and love means not telling her I was having surgery during a pandemic. 

 

Even with the anxiety, heartache, and physical pain this process has entailed, I would be remiss not to call attention to the unseen TLC provided by my Father in heaven. He wove my DNA together in my mother’s womb, so I am assured this mutation was no accident or bad break (Psalm 139:13-16). My life is not at the mercy of the “slings and arrows of outrageous fortune.” Rather, God my Father. designs it for His glory and my good. What’s more, in His foresight and kindness, He had been preparing me all year for what He had prepared for the end of it. In January and February I completed the Lisa Harper Bible study on Job that was being offered as a Lifeway Women online study. The two books I had reviewed for Crossway discussed the topics of anxiety and lament. In the fall with my mother, we were working through video studies on Providence and Romans 8.

 

During the weeks from mammogram to cancer diagnosis, and in the waiting for test results, once a week I listened to Derek Thomas share about the groaning creation, about all things working together for the good of those who love God, about the glory prepared for me, about the interceding Christ and Spirit, and about the lavish, conquering love of God in Christ Jesus, that love from which nothing, not even cancer, can separate me.

 

For I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory that is going to be revealed to us. For the creation eagerly waits with anticipation for God’s sons to be revealed. For the creation was subjected to futility — not willingly, but because of him who subjected it — in the hope that the creation itself will also be set free from the bondage to decay into the glorious freedom of God’s children.For we know that the whole creation has been groaning together with labor pains until now. Not only that, but we ourselves who have the Spirit as the firstfruits — we also groan within ourselves, eagerly waiting for adoption, the redemption of our bodies. Now in this hope we were saved, but hope that is seen is not hope, because who hopes for what he sees? Now if we hope for what we do not see, we eagerly wait for it with patience

 

In the same way the Spirit also helps us in our weakness, because we do not know what to pray for as we should, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us with inexpressible groanings. And he who searches our hearts knows the mind of the Spirit, because he intercedes for the saints according to the will of God. We know that all things work together for the good of those who love God, who are called according to his purpose. For those he foreknew he also predestined to be conformed to the image of his Son, so that he would be the firstborn among many brothers and sisters. And those he predestined, he also called; and those he called, he also justified; and those he justified, he also glorified.

 

What, then, are we to say about these things? If God is for us, who is against us? He did not even spare his own Son but gave him up for us all. How will he not also with him grant us everything? Who can bring an accusation against God’s elect? God is the one who justifies. Who is the one who condemns? Christ Jesus is the one who died, but even more, has been raised; he also is at the right hand of God and intercedes for us. Who can separate us from the love of Christ? Can affliction or distress or persecution or famine or nakedness or danger or sword? As it is written: Because of you we are being put to death all day long; we are counted as sheep to be slaughtered.

 

No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. For I am persuaded that neither death nor life, nor angels nor rulers, nor things present nor things to come, nor powers, nor height nor depth, nor any other created thing will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.

 

Romans 8:18-39 CSB

 

In the secret places of my heart, He comforted and sustained me with these truths.

 

In another gracious stroke of Providence, for only the first and second times in my complex medical history, both surgeries occurred at an ideal time for my husband to take a week or more off work to help me.

 

With the genetic mutation I have, ovarian cancer and the other increased risks are bigger threats than another breast cancer is. By God’s grace, we have just crossed one risk off the cancer threat list and know I need extra monitoring for the others.

 

But I would not likely have discovered that without the breast cancer, and my breast cancer was undetectable by any means but a mammogram. One of the oncologists said my breast cancer, found so early as it was, could be a blessing in disguise. I call it the Providence of God.

 

A routine mammogram may have saved my life (but not how you think).

A Decade of Crumbs

Ten years ago today, I hit "Publish" on the first blog post here. It still doesn't feel routine. Every time I open a window for a new post, a window into my heart of hearts, the resistance and insecurity rise up. Am I doing this right? Who am I to think I have a story worth telling? Is anyone even seeing this? Is this the best way to steward my limited concentration and time? 

In the last week or so, 2 different, completely unrelated people have said or written the same thing in similar words, which I took as a reminder from the Lord in response to those unspoken questions:

"My nightmare is someone else's survival guide," said stroke survivor Kathryn Wolf in the Desperate for Jesus retreat livestream.

"Tell the story of the mountain you climbed. Your words could become a page in someone else's survival guide," wrote Morgan Harper Nichols on her Instagram feed.

Paul touches on the same thing in 2 Corinthians 1:3-5 (CSB): "Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and the God of all comfort.  He comforts us in all our affliction, so that we may be able to comfort those who are in any kind of affliction, through the comfort we ourselves receive from God. For just as the sufferings of Christ overflow to us, so also through Christ our comfort overflows."

This blog, then, bears witness to the comfort of Christ overflowing in the overflowing afflictions of the last decade. I'm not at the top of the mountain yet, but by God's grace I'm still climbing, and if the Lord wills I'll keep leaving notes for other climbers telling where this pilgrim found bread and shelter and companionship along the steep and treacherous path toward Home.

If I had to choose a verse to write on the trail marker to sum up the last 10 years, the hardest 10-year period of my life, I suppose the most apt would be 2 Corinthians 12:9 (CSB), "But he said to me, 'My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is perfected in weakness.' Therefore, I will most gladly boast all the more about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may reside in me."

For I have been weak, and His grace has been sufficient.

Through months homebound and mostly bedridden due to chronic chest pain, His grace is sufficient.

Through 7 surgeries and countless procedures, His grace is sufficient.

Through at least a dozen new doctors and so much imaging I should probably glow in the dark by now, His grace is sufficient.

Through 2 rounds of cancer, most recently this last November through January, His grace is sufficient.

Through multiplied joint pain and disability, His grace is sufficient.

Through multiple changes of the church we call home, His grace is sufficient.

Through traumatic changes of pastors, His grace is sufficient.

Through job changes and a move, His grace is sufficient.

Through devastating new diagnoses for loved ones, His grace is sufficient.

Through many days and nights apart when Amore's help was needed elsewhere, His grace is sufficient.

Through too many funerals...grandmothers, aunt, uncle, cousin, sister-in-law, father-in-law, and my Velcro dog who stayed by my side through all of the above...His grace is sufficient.

Through the other Big Scary Things I haven't been free to discuss here because others share those stories, His grace is sufficient.

Through this global pandemic, His grace is sufficient.

Through intensifying racial strife, His grace is sufficient.

Through an economic recession, His grace is sufficient.

Through months homebound, this time with Amore and Moose Tracks and the rest of the world in their respective homes, His grace is sufficient.

But that only tells part of the story.

In a larger, nicer home with a pool closer to my parents, His grace is sufficient.

In my dad's retirement from his computer career to enjoy more time with my mom and the rest of the family, His grace is sufficient.

In both my sisters moving closer, His grace is sufficient.

In a good new home for my mother-in-law, His grace is sufficient.

In more opportunities for time and laughter with the 3 youngest nephews, His grace is sufficient.

In the gift of new friends, both locally at church and scattered abroad through this blog, His grace is sufficient.

In growth and joy in practicing photography, His grace is sufficient.

In learning better management of my disability, His grace is sufficient.

In the years spent learning Ephesians and Isaiah 40 by heart, His grace is sufficient.

In the trip of a lifetime to Alaska with parents, His grace is sufficient.

In sustaining Amore's job and giving him freedom to work from home, His grace is sufficient.

In last year's travel to Virginia to witness the wedding of a young lady I've loved since her infancy, and in seeing so many answered prayers in her life, His grace is sufficient.

In so very many circumstances which pushed me beyond my strength, Christ has shown Himself strong and His grace sufficient. He will do no less for you. Whatever Big Scary Thing predominates our landscape today, His grace is sufficient. We can trust Him with this.

And it is just possible that this sufficient grace comes, not despite afflictions, but because of them. As Scottish pastor Samuel Rutherford wrote,

Grace grows best in winter. Crosses are a part of our communion with Christ. There is no sweeter fellowship than to bring our wounds to Him. A heavy heart is welcome with Christ. The Lord has fully repaid my sadness with His joy and presence.... Troubles come through His fingers, and He casts sugar among them.... The heaviest end of the cross is laid upon our strong Saviour.... Glorify the Lord in your suffering and spread His banner of love over you. Others will follow you, if they see you strong in the Lord (The Loveliness of Christ).

You Crumbles have been a good part of the sugar He has sifted through His fingers with the troubles of the last decade. Thank you for your companionship, prayers, and encouragement along the way. May you know His communion in your crosses, His fellowship in your wounds. As Tolkien wrote, "The hands of the King are the hands of a healer." May His wounds heal yours, by His sufficient grace.

{Deep breath. "Publish."}

"All Things Well" {Greatest Hits}

Here is another top 5 post from my almost-decade of blogging here. May the Lord bless it to your spirit. Grace and peace to you in Jesus,

tinuviel

From time to time, usually when my pain spikes and I can't pinpoint any particular misbehavior on my part which caused it, the what ifs attack. What if the doctor has misdiagnosed my pain? What if the long diagnostic delay has made this permanent? What if the medicines are more harm than help?

A friend and new breast cancer survivor tells me she thinks these anxieties come with the territory of prolonged or chronic illness. For her, every new twinge could be the first warning that the cancer has returned. For both of us, some of these questions are legitimate areas of further medical investigation.

For that reason, two weeks ago I sought a second opinion on a key aspect of my care. Our conversation and the wide variety of tests ordered seem to corroborate some of my concerns, particularly the one about the accuracy of a key element of my medical history.

This raises a new sort of what if, one I had swept under the rug of my thoughts until now. Really, I don't know anything for certain until all the test results are in and the doctor herself interprets them to me. It is still in the realm of possibility, however, that the primary diagnosis which has guided medical decisions for a decade will be revised or even replaced.

That said, I do already know that my what ifs are generally neither helpful nor faithful. If God is sovereign and loving, as the Bible teaches and I believe, no illness or physician error, if that should prove the case, can touch me without His permission. If He has permitted difficulty, it is for my good, for the building up of the body of Christ, and for His glory. He is trustworthy.

Sometimes when the what ifs attack, testimony from someone who has already walked a similar path can penetrate my troubled emotions better than abstract truth. The dominance of narrative in the Spirit-breathed Scriptures makes me think God designed us this way. One day recently, American hymnist Fanny Crosby's witness out of her lifelong blindness provided the help I needed.

Before Fanny Crosby had reached two months of age, a common cold resulted in permanent blindness when a newcomer to the town treated her in the stead of the regular family physician, who was unavailable at the time. The stranger turned out to be an impostor without any medical training whatever and left town, never to be heard from again.

Concerning this tragedy, Miss Crosby wrote, "In more than eighty-five years, I have not for a moment felt a spark of resentment against him, for I have always believed from my youth up that the good Lord, in His infinite mercy, by this means consecrated me to the work that I am still permitted to do" (Smith and Carlson, Favorite Women Hymn Writers, 32).

What work was that? Teaching at a school for the blind in New York City, becoming the first woman to speak before Congress, befriending Presidents, writing a prodigious quantity of poems and later hymns, and serving the poor. "Indefatigable" comes to mind when I read of her life.

On another note, also from Miss Crosby, these words on prayer also strengthened feeble knees to persist in intercession whether or not I can see any results:

In one of her last messages, she said, "God will answer your prayers better than you think. Of course, one will not always get exactly what he has asked for. . . .  We all have sorrows and disappointments, but one must never forget that, if commended to God, they will issue in good. . . .  His own solution is far better than any we could conceive" (Ibid., 37). 

One of my favorites of her very many hymns is the following one on God's guidance throughout our lives. For some reason, I have never sung it in church that I recall but made its acquaintance instead through the Rich Mullins recording from The World As Best As I Remember It, Vol. 2. (See below for a link to listen on YouTube.) Whether the hymn is new or familiar to you, I pray that you find Miss Crosby's words still speak to your particular need and what ifs today. Jesus doeth all things well, friend. Let's remember how He has done so for us and share our stories with each other.

All the way my Savior leads me;
What have I to ask beside?
Can I doubt His tender mercy,
Who through life has been my Guide?
Heav’nly peace, divinest comfort,
Here by faith in Him to dwell!
For I know, whate’er befall me,
Jesus doeth all things well;
For I know, whate’er befall me,
Jesus doeth all things well.

All the way my Savior leads me,
Cheers each winding path I tread;
Gives me grace for every trial,
Feeds me with the living Bread.
Though my weary steps may falter,
And my soul athirst may be,
Gushing from the Rock before me,
Lo! A spring of joy I see;
Gushing from the Rock before me,
Lo! A spring of joy I see.

All the way my Savior leads me
O the fullness of His love!
Perfect rest to me is promised
In my Father’s house above.
When my spirit, clothed immortal,
Wings its flight to realms of day
This my song through endless ages—
Jesus led me all the way;
This my song through endless ages—
Jesus led me all the way.