Battle Prayers

And not only the creation, but we ourselves, who have the firstfruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly as we wait eagerly for adoption as sons, the redemption of our bodies. For in this hope we were saved. Now hope that is seen is not hope. For who hopes for what he sees? But if we hope for what we do not see, we wait for it with patience.

Likewise the Spirit helps us in our weakness. For we do not know what to pray for as we ought, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us with groanings too deep for words (Romans 8:23-26, ESV).

It doesn't matter how long intercessory prayer takes its place in my morning routine. Spiritual disciplines are never really mastered but always either growing or decaying. Sometimes joy and the lightness of knowing I'm cooperating with God fills my prayers for others; at other times, it's all battle, and I don't always fight the good fight.

I expect this struggle is not exceptional but common, perhaps even normative, in the Christian life. David McIntyre in The Hidden Life of Prayer describes "the arduousness of prayer" better than I can:

the prince of the power of the air seems to bend all the force of his attack against the spirit of prayer. If he should prove victorious there, he has won the day. Sometimes we are conscious of a satanic impulse directed immediately against the life of prayer in our souls; sometimes we are led into "dry" and wilderness-experiences, and the face of God grows dark above us; sometimes, when we strive most earnestly to bring every thought and imagination under obedience to Christ, we seem to be given over to disorder and unrest; sometimes the inbred slothfulness of our nature lends itself to the evil one as an instrument by which he may turn our minds back from the exercise of prayer. Because of all these things, therefore, we must be diligent and resolved, watching as a sentry who remembers that the lives of men are lying at the hazard of his wakefulness, resourcefulness, and courage (Kindle location 56).

Do you know that feeling, when "all you can do is pray," and prayer is the hardest thing to do? And then when you finally slash your way through the obstacles, wielding "the sword of the Spirit which is the Word of God" (Eph. 6:17), it seems the harder you pray, the worse a situation becomes?

At such times I must remember that help for my loved ones lies not in my prayers but in the One to whom I pray. I must gratefully remember the Spirit who interprets my feeble groanings in accordance with the Father's will. I must remember that the opposition is real and intentional, and that the battle intensifies in proportion to the importance of the purpose.  I must remember to pray even about my prayers and to lean into the Spirit of prayer to lead and strengthen.

Lord, teach us to pray. Grant us courage to put on Your whole armor to stand firm against the devil's schemes. Strengthen us with Your might to keep wrestling "against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly places." In Your great mercy, grant that we would "be able to withstand in the evil day, and having done all, to stand firm" (Eph. 6:10-20). We lift these heart-groanings to You in the name of Jesus, our Master and Savior. Amen.

Moonflower

Best-Laid Plans: Part Three

On previous episodes of Best-Laid Plans...
Part One
Part Two

Day 3

Once again, we began with yogurt for me and the full breakfast buffet for Allen. (I might be just a tiny bit obsessed with food right now. Can you tell?) Swallowing had definitely improved with the new and increased medications, but I didn't want to push things. After a brief quiet time, Allen suggested we explore a park Google Maps had found nearby.

The skies had cleared, the air remained cool, and it was a beautiful day to walk in a park that felt far removed from suburban Fort Worth. Ordinarily, we never plan outdoor activities for our anniversary, since it's predictably 100F in the shade in late August. Change in plans #5 was such a pleasant one!

When I was walked out, we returned to the hotel to pack, clean ourselves up, and check out. By this time, I had reached my limit on sweet, soft foods. This does not often happen. Happily, we found some cheddar broccoli soup for me and a hearty salad for Allen for lunch. The thick, salty soup tasted as good as Thanksgiving dinner to me, and the broccoli was in such tiny, tender pieces that I could swallow it easily. Thank You, Lord, for the idea and the provision.

Day 3 of our trip was my grandmother's 90th birthday. She wanted family to come by only a few at a time so we could actually converse, and she allowed Allen and me to share her birthday afternoon with cupcakes and coffee.

I had prayed about this time, since Nonni didn't know about our week's adventures and my swallowing issues. It felt like my swallowing had improved enough with the dietary and medication changes that I could manage a moist cupcake if I took things slowly and stopped at the first sign of trouble. Allen agreed, so we returned to the mall, where a cupcake bakery offered at least a dozen flavors each day. After much discussion, we made our selections, bought coffees, and drove to my grandmother's house.

Happily, this part of the day went just as planned and hoped. All three of us enjoyed the visit, and the cupcakes went down smoothly.

We stopped at our local pharmacy on the way home, only to find that the prescription I needed in preparation for Friday's scopes had not been filled. Calling the doctor, I discovered it had not been called in. That would be change in plans #6. Allen agreed to drive to the medical office at lunch the next day and bring the medicine home to me so I'd have it in time. (See? I told you he was a blessing.)

We returned to Wits' End late in the afternoon, weary and glad to be under our own roof again. The road trip was not what we'd planned, but it actually went better than the previous two I'd been involved with.

With much gratitude, we ended the day with burgers from our favorite local place. Taking things slow, with tiny bites and long chewing, I was able to finish a child's burger. This was to be my last solid food until after the procedures Friday, so it seemed worth attempting a real meal.

Day 5

The procedures went smoothly and revealed a few minor issues. The doctor stood by his original statement that nothing about my story sounds like esophageal disease to him. His visual inspection showed no esophageal reason for swallowing difficulty or chest pain.

The specific possibility raised by my lupus doctor would not have been apparent on this test in any case. It is our option whether to request another test for that condition, but the issue is not treatable, so the GI doctor advised that we weigh the cost and discomfort of the test against the psychological benefit of knowing whether or not the possible diagnosis is an actuality. We have not decided yet and will wait at least until the biopsy results return in the next week or so.

Day 6

Remember that pesky car key? Yes, it was still firmly lodged in the ignition.

My appetite still had not returned to normal by Saturday night, but we planned a second attempt at an anniversary date anyhow. While I gussied up, Allen went to the next town north of ours for an appointment.

Around the time I was expecting a text from him that he was on the way home, my phone rang from a number unknown to me. It was Allen. He had locked that key in the car with his phone. The set of keys in his pocket was the set without the spare car key. He had called roadside assistance for a locksmith, but it would be 45 minutes before his arrival. (We are a one-car household, so for me to drive the extra key to him was not an option.)

An hour passed. An hour and a half. I was on the phone with my parents trying to figure out what to do next when the garage door opened and the Ebony alarm went off. It was Allen, brought home by a friend to get the spare key so he could return, unlock the car, and drive home. By this time it was 7:45.

Later, he related to me that he had called roadside assistance back on his friend's phone, only to be reassured that the locksmith was at the car right then. "Um, no. No locksmith here." As it happened, the locksmith had arrived in the area early but been unable to find the exact location. He called Allen's phone for additional details 4 times, but he had received the number for Allen's own cell phone, which was locked in the car, instead of for the borrowed phone, which was in his hand.

Change of plans #7 meant my salmon and his steak were carried out to our own table at home and a streaming video on the television.

Tomorrow the car goes to the dealership for key extraction and ignition repair.

That is, unless there's a change of plans.

P.S. Today

When Allen took the car in, the mechanic "pulled a Fonzie," in Allen's words, by pounding the steering column with his fist three times and pulling the key out. That key had stuck because the grooves were worn down. Eventually, the whole cylinder will need replacement because the shavings worn off the old key remain inside, but for today a new key proved adequate. In another unexpected grace, the mechanic only billed us for the key.

---------------------------

Much of my public gratitude for the week appeared in Friday's "letter to God" post, but there's always more reason to give thanks, isn't there?

Thank You, Lord,

that Your grace, mercy, and love never change with our changing circumstances;

that You gave us senses of humor to cope with unpleasant changes;

that we spent our anniversary together;

that You gave me a husband who values that more than his own agenda;

for that beautiful park, so unlike our own, and strength to walk together;

for Nonni's birthday and sharing it with her;

for cupcakes, kids' meals, and carry-out;

for the joy of coming home to one's own bed;

for initially positive news from Friday's tests;

for getting it done and over with;

for Your presence with me;

for a nurse able to start the IV smoothly;
for better swallowing yesterday and today;

for plans made,

for plans changed,

for a new week and fresh start.

For all this and more, I thank You, Lord (#7134-7149).

Best-Laid Plans: Part Two

~Part One of our anniversary road trip week~

Day 2

Happy anniversary to us! After 13 years, even our cards have begun to look alike, at least in the butterfly motif. Allen's choice was by far the fancier.

The hotel breakfast surprised us with the abundant variety, which Allen enjoyed while I stuck with yogurt and oatmeal, praying neither would stick. After breakfast, we returned to the room, hot beverages in hand, for our Bible reading. The dam broke for me while I journaled. This was not how I'd hoped to spend our anniversary, one of the two days a year we actually dress up for dinner out. Disappointment plus fear that the GI doc's initial impression was wrong and something had gone seriously awry in my esophagus made my eyes overflow.

Allen said it didn't matter as long as we spent the day together. Isn't he a blessing? He hadn't really wanted to dress up anyway. :)

I dried my eyes and we did our physical therapy exercises. It was raining, praise the Lord, so we couldn't walk outside as is our custom. Instead we went to the shopping mall for lunch and a stroll. It was unseasonably, wonderfully cool outside and in for Texas in August.

Wikipedia said these dots on the window were raindrops. It was on the Internet, so it must be true, right? :)

Her lunch, his lunch

After lunch, Allen suggested that we visit the Dead Sea Scrolls exhibit (on display in Fort Worth for the rest of the year). I was wanting to see it; he could take it or leave it. His anniversary gift to me was this lovely afternoon of distraction, in the company of documents and artifacts dating to the apostolic era and before.

Among the Dead Sea Scrolls are the oldest known manuscripts of Bible texts. Buried in caves in Qumran for nearly 2,000 years, they were discovered accidentally by a Bedouin shepherd in the mid-20th century. He didn't know their importance, but they soon reached the hands of those who did. The scrolls bear tremendous importance for Old Testament textual studies. Every book of the Hebrew Bible except Esther is represented among them, and the text proves consistent with the medieval manuscripts which had previously been the oldest known. That the words of Scripture were copied reliably during that thousand-year gap in our manuscript evidence only increases our trust that the textual basis of our present Bible is accurate. The passage of time does not always necessitate corruption of content.

By the end of the exhibit, our feet and backs were sore and our brains full, but it was an afternoon well-spent. No photos were allowed in the exhibit hall, but Allen managed this phone camera self-portrait at the exit:

Did you know the Wailing Wall was in Fort Worth?

We stopped at Smoothie King afterward, because I was actually hungry for the first time in 4 days. Note to self: the Peanut Butter Power smoothie in the chocolate base is like drinking a Reese's peanut butter cup. It was as perfectly satisfying as non-solid food could be. Back at the hotel, we rested and enjoyed more cerebral, highbrow cable television programming (Yukon Gold Rush). Can you guess who had control of the remote? I'm not sure if it was meant to be funny, but we laughed a lot.

Our 13th anniversary supper consisted of Chick-Fil-A for Allen and frozen yogurt for both of us. My black dress and pearls are back in the closet until my next birthday. (Change in plans #4)

Best-Laid Plans: Part One

The mind of man plans his way,

But the Lord directs his steps.

Proverbs 16:9, NASB

Short version:

Last week we took a brief anniversary road trip. For most of the trip, I couldn't swallow solid food comfortably. For all of the trip, our car key remained stuck in the ignition. The week concluded with upper and lower GI scopes for me and generally bore very little resemblance to the vacation in our imaginations. That said, God cared for us well, and we spent our anniversary together. We are grateful.

The End.

Play-by-Play:

Just so we're clear, today I'm writing this down for myself as much as anyone. It was a roller coaster of a week, and writing will help me come to terms with it. It won't hurt my feelings if you stop reading now. :)

Last week Allen spent the three personal days accrued so far at his new job. His idea was that we take a mini-vacation for our anniversary. Even though we were only headed an hour and a half away to the other side of the Metroplex, I had some anxiety about my first overnight trip in almost 2 years.

Nonetheless, we made the plans and arranged a visit to my grandmother's house on the third afternoon, which happened to be her 90th birthday. By God's grace, I got the packing done without a spike in pain levels. We made Ebony's kennel reservations and took him for a day of daycare the previous week to ease him into the new environment. He hadn't had an overnight trip in 2 years, either.

Day 1

We woke early on day 1. At breakfast, it concerned me that my tiny prednisone pills weren't going down smoothly. In late spring, I'd begun having trouble with the biggest pills in my case, but I attributed that to the dry mouth another medication has caused. Two days prior to our departure, one of my calcium pills lodged uncomfortably in my esophagus for the course of an evening. Never had I had a hint of difficulty swallowing these smallest pills until today.

Only 6 days previously I had met with a gastroenterologist for the consultation recommended by my new lupus doctor. At that time Dr. T, the GI specialist, said (and I quote), "Nothing about your story says esophageal pain to me. Everything about what you're telling me points to musculoskeletal pain or maybe nerve ending pain." Despite that conviction, he recommended an upper and lower scope of the digestive tract because of medication side effect risks and family history. It didn't seem urgent, so Allen and I consulted and chose the next available date when he had no medical or work conflicts: September 7.

Now suddenly that seemed a long way off. While Allen packed the car, I called the doctor to change the appointment to the next available, which was this past Friday. A message was also taken down for the nurse about my symptoms, to see what could be done in the mean time. If you're counting, that would be change in plans #1.

Swallowing lots of water in an attempt to wash down the medication, I finalized preparations to leave the house. We double-checked locks and lights and headed on our way. Ebony was not happy about being delivered to the kennel, but he handled himself better than he had in the past. Deep breath. We're really doing this!

A dramatic increase in the number of trees marked our drive west. This part of Dallas-Fort Worth had had a much wetter summer than our town. So much green for August!

We first stopped at Allen's sister's house to see her family, including her Army son on leave from Afghanistan, and their parents, who were visiting. When we pulled into her driveway and parked, we discovered change in plans #2: a key that refused to budge from the ignition.

Lunch was not yet ready, so Allen and his dad worked on the key to no avail while I brought his mom and sister up to speed on my latest medical adventures. After lunch, which was delicious even though I was not able to eat very much, Allen left to pursue some leads on mechanics while I fielded phone calls from the doctor and listened to our nephew's tales of dropping body bags full of water bottles from a helicopter to resupply troops in remote locations.

Good news: one of the mechanics knew exactly what the problem was and had just fixed the same issue on another car. Bad news: the only employee with the certification to handle the electrical part of the repair was not in that day.

Good news: the doctor quadrupled my reflux medication, which to this point had only been to prevent side effects from another medication, and called in a prescription for "grasshopper slurry" to the pharmacy adjacent to our hotel. This liquid would cool and numb my esophagus so I'd at least be more comfortable. Bad news: that super-convenient pharmacy lacked one ingredient in the prescription and could order it for preparation the next afternoon. Good news: the excellent pharmacy assistant offered to call other local pharmacies until she found one with all the ingredients on hand. (Change in plans #3)

When our family visit concluded, we drove a while longer to our destination hotel to check in, unpack, and wait for the pharmacy to notify us that the prescription was ready. [Cue Final Jeopardy music.] They actually completed the order ahead of schedule, and not a moment too soon by my reckoning. This turned out to be a family-owned pharmacy more than 50 years old. I liked the vintage signs, but perhaps that was just my relief to have help at hand.

The "magic mouthwash" really did help, but swallowing solid food was still problematic enough that I stuck to mashed potatoes and the softest vegetables at supper and still couldn't clean my plate.

One of the GI problems my rheumatologist is considering as a possible new explanation for my chest pain involves changes to the muscles of the lower esophagus. Often this particular ailment goes undiagnosed until a patient appears at the emergency room with food lodged in the esophagus. I did not want this to happen and decided to stick with smoothies, yogurt, and only the absolutely essential medications until we returned home.

We spent the evening relaxing in front of horizon-expanding television like Call of the Wildman, which at any rate got us laughing after a day full of the unexpected.