Blind Love and Blessings: Revisiting the Edge

source

I went there again last night: That cliff where I hung in despair almost 20 years ago. Oh, I didn't climb down and hang on for dear life as my fingers released one-by-one like I did then, but I revisited the place like the morbid tourist that I am. You know, the one that visited the Inquisition Museum while in Lima, Peru or the person who always goes to cemeteries on vacations as well as historical prisons that attest to the sinfulness of man. (Alcatraz, anyone?) 

But this was personal. I was not looking on in curiosity at someone else's monument. I was viewing myself hanging there clinging to life.

And I didn't like what I saw . . . or felt. The pain of it all still exists.

I once again questioned the Lord about the circumstances behind the despair. Not the "Why me?" or "How could you allow this?" questions, but "Are you really able to use my disability for your honor and your glory?" is what I asked. Frankly, if the answer is "no" I might as well just climb over the edge right now.

I don't have my answer yet. 

***********

Last night our study group was discussing a segment of the Bible study I wrote of I John. It was one of those nights when it was difficult keeping everyone's attention focused upon the path ahead. I really needed a shepherd's hook instead of a Strong's Concordance in my tool box. Sometimes in these circumstances the "somewhat related" topic where we stray is not so far removed as to be ignored and often is serious enough to warrant attention. Such was the case here.

The premise presented by someone in the group was that there are people who

• A. Either will not accept Christ, or
• B. Will not serve God

because they are angry over circumstances that God has allowed in their life. The corollary - as I understood it - was that this is somehow justified, or at least understandable when it affects people of certain demographics.

I'll grant the premise. There are people who either will not trust God or will not serve Him because they are angry over something "horrible" that He has allowed in their lives, but I WILL NOT agree that it is ever justifiable for anyone to continually use their circumstances as an excuse to be angry with God!

And that's when I unwittingly found myself standing on the edge of the precipice. I alluded to my own personal affliction (without actually going into detail about what that affliction entails) and emphasized the severity of my battle all those years ago by using the "S" word. (Suicide)

I heard the gasps. I saw the wide eyes of some of the ladies and the lowered heads of others.

I felt my face grow red.

The clarification was made that I had contemplated it in those days I shut myself in my room while suffering deep depression but I had never attempted it then or at any other time. Never. Somehow, it didn't seem to help the situation. At least it didn't help mine.

Comments were made about how hard it is to carry the burdens of a pastor's wife. Perhaps true, but totally irrelevant. Being a pastor's wife is not as hard as carrying a personal burden laid upon me with the permission of God Himself.

Today, the morning after, I am weary and worn. I've revisited a place I never wanted to see again and the trip has left me exhausted.

I may not know yet if God is using my affliction for His honor and glory, although I truly hope He is, but I was reminded once again why I felt the leading of the Lord when writing my study. Chapter one makes it clear that I am to enjoy personal fellowship with others. In fact, God Himself wants to fellowship with me!

Me! 

If my true appearance were manifested to the world many would consider me a freak. But God does not care about my physical appearance. Jesus was manifested to take away our sins, and in him is no sin. (I John 3:5) He became a social outcast and accursed of God for me. He was separated from both men and God so that I could have fellowship with humanity and Deity.

So pray that my eyes will be drawn away from the cliff and its focus on my physical appearance and placed upon that hill called Calvary where my spiritual beauty was assured. And pray that I don't make it a regular habit of using "shock therapy" to prove my point unless it will somehow be used for God's honor and glory.

Old-Marrieds Losing and Winning the Newlywed Game

source

In honor of St. Valentine's Day, Pastor Dad and I attended a banquet this weekend with other church-going couples. Actually, we attended 3 but at only one did we play the traditional quiz game designed to show everyone how well spouses know each other, The Newlywed Game.

At this banquet it was announced that three games would be played throughout the evening to determine who the participants would be in that final prize-winning game. I looked at my husband and said, "You know that as the guest speaker and wife we are automatically going to be chosen as one of the couples no matter how well we do in the early games." And my theory might have been correct, but we'll never know. As one of the runner-up couples in the preliminary rounds we became one of the six doomed lucky couples. Mmm-hmm.

So there we were. We were the longest-married couple of those chosen. Obviously we should know each other pretty well after 35 years of marriage, right? Well, yes  but the score certainly didn't reflect it! We came in d.e.a.d  l.a.s.t.

source

Did we know all the answers? Uh, no. Not only weren't they primarily made up of the standard fact questions like, "What is your wife's favorite perfume?" but even for the ones that were we have a lot more information to remember than those who have been married only a few years! Most questions were more thought provoking though. And one or two were just plain provoking. :)

Then there were the answers that we deliberately missed. Did we lie? No, but we chose answers that were the most edifying and least embarrassing for our spouse:  answers that portrayed our beloved at his or her best and not as the sometimes unpleasant person that each knows the other is capable of being.

We're used to looking at each other through eyes of love and seeing beyond each other's struggles. After all, it isn't unusual to see couples who have been married as long as we have been that are made up of a person who is bald and one whose weight went from 135 to 200 pounds during the child-bearing years. It's just unusual when you consider the way it affects this couple.

The funny thing was that neither of us knew that the other was going to take the edifying approach when answering about each other. Ultimately we each ended up telling on ourselves by choosing answers that we think to be closer to the mark and each was pleasantly surprised by the answers our spouse gave about us.

So, why did we do so poorly in the game? Do we not know each other very well? No, after 35 years of marriage we know each other all too well:  well enough to know where the hot buttons are and well enough to know that we'd like to be married to each other for at least 35 more years if the Lord gives them to us.

In other words, we each esteem the other more highly than we do ourselves. We may have lost a game but we definitely proved that we possess the greatest prize of all.

Blind Love and Blessings: Excerpts From My Journal

The author's private journal
Victorian Journals
Brownlow Publishing Co., Inc.

Before I blogged, I kept a journal. Like my blogging, my journaling was sporadic because I wrote only when the mood struck, which wasn't on a regular basis.

I am going to share appropriate excerpts from the above journal that detail a personal comparison I made concerning my own situation and that of someone I love. Her name has been changed to Jane (as in "Jane Doe") in order to protect privacy, but her identity will be recognizable to many.

November 15, 1997
. . . After being wigless for 13 months, it has been an adjustment these last 2 days. Actually my hair loss is not as bad this time as it was during my previous episode, but I could tell my wig-free days were numbered. At least I'm getting used to this by degrees.

I'm ashamed of my own vanity when I think about Jane's cancer surgery in 2 days. She has already lost her nose. Now she will lose her left eye, half her palate and teeth. . .

Lord, spare Jane. And thanks for the wig.
 

Fast forward a couple of years:

August 30, 1999
I'm still wearing a wig even though I have run the gamut from losing almost all of my hair to gaining back as much as I had. . . I've learned to compensate for activities I enjoy.

As for Jane, she is still fighting cancer with prayers, radiation, chemotherapy, and a great attitude. . . It has been a hard year for Jane.
 

The next entry that I'll share has this verse inscribed at the top of the page: The Lord has done great things for us, and we are filled with joy. PSALM 126:3.

Beneath it I wrote the following:

August 18, 2000
It is with tears in my eyes and in my heart that I read the verse above (blog note: I had underlined the word "joy" in the verse at the top of the page). Jane went to be with the Lord last night and I am trying desperately to feel the joy. I know she has joy, and here at the end I've prayed for God to take her quickly so that she wouldn't have to suffer any more.

The entry goes on to say that August had always had it's share of joy but especially it's share of sorrow as my family had buried my maternal grandma, my uncle, and now Jane in various years. Having been just a year older than I, in childhood Jane was my playmate and companion. In adulthood she was my friend and confident. As adults, Jane and I lived many miles apart but we corresponded regularly. We remained close enough friends that in early 1999 Pastor Dad drove The Bear and me the 8 hours that it took to reach her bedside after one of her surgeries. I was concerned about how the preschool-aged Bear would react to her irregular appearance but she was so joyful that he was quickly sitting on her lap!

Here is another part of that same l-o-n-g August 18, 2000 entry, 6 pages actually, where I poured out my heart:

. . . I have several emails from Jane, the last one sent on July 4th wishing us all a great day. I got to see her at Christmas and encourage her. We even sent emails back and forth where I shared my "hair secrets" with her since she was feeling rotten about wearing a wig [after losing] her hair to chemo.
 

Did you catch that? My dear cousin, who had lost an eye, her nose, and part of her palate to cancer had been mortified when her hair fell out! Even more astonishing was that I was able to encourage her! It was then that I began to realize just how devastating hair loss is for all women, even those who have had their appearance altered in other ways or were fighting life-threatening illnesses.

In years to come the Lord would put me in contact with several women suffering hair loss who needed encouragement. All, including Jane, responded with the words, "I had no idea you have this problem, too!" when I empathized with them by sharing details of my own illness, one that paled in comparison to what some of them faced.

It is interesting how the Lord placed these ladies in my path and what He used to get the conversations started. I was never the one to broach the subject but at various times and in odd places (at the craft store, for example) an acquaintance would reveal that she had just left the wig shop, or shopping for a hat, or the beauty salon, and her story would erupt like the sodium bicarbonate - vinegar mixture that explodes out of elementary science experiments. As private as each woman wished to remain, each needed to release the emotion by talking to someone and the Lord somehow arranged a meeting between us.

I will not share their stories, but like Jane, some of them now experience great joy because their journeys have ended. Others are still on their pilgrimage but with the knowledge that they are not alone. Not only does the Lord share their sorrow but I and others like me are blessed to help bear their burdens.

Part of the bearing of each other's burdens has been sharing information and tips. In the future I hope to tell what I do to help compensate each day or in special circumstance as per the above referenced journal entry. For now, I will close with the quote that is at the bottom of that six-page entry, one that complements well the verse that began it.

Be a life long or short, its completeness

depends on what it was lived for.

DAVID STARR JORDAN

Blind Love and Blessings: Perfect Vision

picture source

When last we met I revealed a few of the problems I have encountered as a pastor's wife suffering from a disfiguring illness. I know that most of my readers are concerned that I exaggerated at best or lied at worst, but fortunately, or unfortunately depending on your perspective, I could produce several witnesses since onlookers were necessary for the desired maximum effect. I hope that won't be necessary.

Let me also reassure you about another possible concern. There is no need for any friend or reader to respond like the disciples did at the Last Supper when Jesus revealed that one of them would betray Him. No, you are not one of the offenders. Most likely, you are the exact opposite, one of the people in whom I find great comfort.

For every person whose motive was malicious there were (and still are) many people who bless(ed) me with ointment for my hurting soul: those who held me as I cried, helped me rearrange or artificially replace my hair, empathized with me (there are many besides myself that suffer similar symptoms), and privately counseled me. These include hair dressers, cancer patients, other alopecia sufferers, medical professionals, other pastors' wives, and fellow church members. My support network far outnumbers the bullies.

Why do I share with you my journey? Not out of a sense of bravado! I would not tell any of this unless I was convinced that the Lord wants to use it for His glory and my good because the telling of it is not the catharsis that I might wish it to be. I don't exactly know how the glory and growth will be accomplished, and I may never know until I reach Heaven, but the Bible makes it clear that I do not think like God.

8 For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways, saith the LORD. 9 For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways, and my thoughts than your thoughts. 10 For as the rain cometh down, and the snow from heaven, and returneth not thither, but watereth the earth, and maketh it bring forth and bud, that it may give seed to the sower, and bread to the eater: 11 So shall my word be that goeth forth out of my mouth: it shall not return unto me void, but it shall accomplish that which I please, and it shall prosper in the thing whereto I sent it. Isaiah 55:8-11 (KJV)

It is only because I do believe that God will eventually make all things work together for his glory and my good (Romans 8:28) that I swallow my fear of the ungodly and trust God's perfect love for me.

18 There is no fear in love; but perfect love casteth out fear: because fear hath torment. He that feareth is not made perfect in love. 1 John 4:18 (KJV)

I also do not tell this story in order to retaliate, as one might assume, although I do offer it as a warning. Even Paul experienced mistreatment at the hands of church members. In my case, since I obviously am not up to the caliber of the apostle, my story reminds me that I am also a great sinner who has hurt others at times. The conviction of my own wickedness grieves me more than being the recipient of another's wickedness.

3 And why beholdest thou the mote that is in thy brother's eye, but considerest not the beam that is in thine own eye? 4 Or how wilt thou say to thy brother, Let me pull out the mote out of thine eye; and, behold, a beam is in thine own eye? 5 Thou hypocrite, first cast out the beam out of thine own eye; and then shalt thou see clearly to cast out the mote out of thy brother's eye. Matt 7:3-5 (KJV)
 

It isn't enough that my God, family, and friends have developed blind love for me. I need to develop blind love for others. Everyone has a situation in their life that causes hurt. Often the cause is not immediately evident as we become more sophisticated at hiding behind the facade we present to the world. Sometimes it takes time to peel back the layers but when we are successful we should treat each situation with love.

In the future I hope to share with you some of the ways that God has allowed me to minister to others. I always rejoice when God uses my infirmity to help someone cope with their own situation. It is those circumstances that God uses to develop in me more perfect vision.

The steps are there in scripture! First, remove the obstruction of sin from my own eyes so that I can see more clearly to help someone else and then seek out the hurting and love them blindly through eyes of faith.

Blind Love and Blessings: A Private Problem in a Public Arena

picture source

Pastor Dad and I observed our 34th wedding anniversary this summer. What can I say about having been married to a pastor for that many years? Plenty! But I'll rein myself in and keep most of it to myself except where it deals with the topic. What I will say is that I was very naive about being the wife of a pastor before I actually was one. Very naive.

In my mind the wife of the pastor was just that: a woman married to a pastor. It seems that it goes beyond that. Oh,it goes far, far, far beyond that.

Living in the proverbial fishbowl is uncomfortable. I think this political season clearly illustrates this. It is true that any leader's family reflects on him, but sometimes that sense of "ownership" that a congregation or a nation feels for it's first family crosses over the lines into territory far beyond the bounds of propriety or decency.

You might be surprised - or you might not be - when I tell you that there are people in a church who feel they can make any comment at any time about anything concerning their pastor's wife. If she defends herself in any way she will be the one labeled "unchristian" and her husband will be judged accordingly. That was what I found out soon after returning from our honeymoon and it only got worse after I became afflicted with my autoimmune system disorder. Living in a fishbowl progressed to being viewed under a microscope.

For example:

• Having someone smugly say in a very LOUD whisper, "I LOVE your new wig. Oh, yes! I know your 'secret!'" And now so do the 50 people near you. And guess what? I guess there is no "secret" anymore so you can't pull that prank again, at least around the same people!
• Along a related theme, having someone ask, "Is that your real hair today or are you wearing a wig again?" Back in the day when I would go back and forth I often heard this and I always wondered why it mattered. Idle curiosity? Is that a good enough reason to embarrass someone?
• But the worst was having someone sneak up behind me to yank the wig off my head to prove to her friends that I was wearing one. Praise the Lord I wasn't! At least, not that day. I went home with a small headache and a big heartache but that was the extent of the damage.

I tell you about these completely true and unexaggerated incidents so that you can understand why this already shy gal has had a hard time leaving the safety of her home at times. Yes, even to go to church. (I do go, and faithfully. You should, too.)

When we first began this series I mentioned that this affliction has helped me to understand what real love is. Were the preceding individuals showing me the type of love found in I Corinthians chapter 13?

Charity suffereth long, and is kind; charity envieth not, charity vaunteth not itself, is not puffed up, Doth not behave itself unseemly, seeketh not her own, is not easily provoked, thinketh no evil; . . . (I Corinthians 13:4-5)

No, I don't think so, but I cannot respond in kind or I will show that I neither love others nor believe in the scriptures.

But I say unto you which hear, Love your enemies, do good to them which hate you, Bless them that curse you, and pray for them which despitefully use you. (Luke 6:27-28)

This is not an easy thing for me to do because - pastor's wife or not - I am a sinner who desires revenge on those who hurt me. But if people will know I am a Christian by my love I cannot be unloving, and therefore unchristian, in return no matter how badly I wish to retaliate.


FINALLY . . .

I have experienced great blessings, too. I have been the recipient of phenomenal love and compassion from caring friends and family members who have encouraged me when I really, truly needed it.

For instance, I've experienced such tenderness from all 4 of my children and have kept many things, including the following incidents, in my heart:

• Karen, who turned around, pulled my hoodie up, and tied it before I could do it myself as we boarded a roller coaster. I didn't scream on the coaster but I sure did weep!
• Lisa, yelling when she was a teenager having a bad hair day, "Arggh! I wish I was bald!!!" before catching my eyes in the bathroom mirror and following up her complaint with, "Sorry, mom! I forgot." Ah! The fact that you forgot in my presence is actually a compliment.
• The Princess's reaction when her exuberant toddler was climbing all over my head and neck while being a little too demonstrative with his love. That look she gave me that said "I'll protect you both from an embarrassing situation" meant volumes. Being able to breathe again was great, too.  :)
• The Bear who told me recently, "I go years without remembering your problem. To me, you're just my mom." Aw! What a sweet talker you are! Those of you with teen aged sons know how unexpected it is to have them converse with you! To say something nice is an added bonus!

I told a friend of mine that my life as a pastor's wife is no harder for me to live by the grace of God than it is for anyone else to live their own life. I believe that. God brought Pastor Dad into my life and I had a choice as to whether to marry him or not. I made the choice without understanding what would lie ahead and would do so again, but everyone is blind when making major life decisions. Ours is a walk of faith, not sight.

It isn't for us to know what lies ahead but there is Someone who does and we are to keep our eyes on Him as He leads the way. He promises that His love will guide us and that He will be with us through the whole journey.

Blind Love and Blessings: Mirror, Mirror . . .

source

Sometime during the week after my hair came out in the shower I found myself sitting in front of a mirror behind a curtain in a specialty wig shop. Thanks to my husband’s affiliation with the AMERICAN CANCER SOCIETY someone was able to provide us with contact information to a discreet professional who was part of the program known as “Look Good, Feel Better.”

As I looked at myself in that mirror I found it hard to see anything through my tears. Actually, I was sobbing uncontrollably. I think that day was the worst day of the whole alopecia ordeal for me. First I was crying because of the grief that “it has come to this” and I was crying because I was ashamed of my own selfishness. Unlike most of the other women who had sat in that chair I did not have cancer, so what right did I have to cry? (I have since learned that hair loss is one of the major traumas affecting cancer patients but I’ll discuss that in a future article.)

In those days I wore my hair long. Well, shoulder length, which was long enough to be pulled into a pony tail. It had served me well through the first 6 ½ years of suffering with this autoimmune system disorder but a pony tail could do nothing now to hide the large horse-shoe shaped spot on the crown of my head.

The woman who ran the shop was truly a professional: very compassionate and sympathetic. She helped me find a bob in a color similar to my natural shade and then she thinned it so that it wouldn’t look like I had suddenly developed a luxuriant mane! She told me I looked like I had just had my own hair cut and highlighted. I guess I did because when I got home that’s what my children thought had happened.

Shortly thereafter I did go see my hairdresser and have my real hair cut and colored so that I could go back and forth between either wearing one of several face-saver caps that I owned over my real hair or wearing the wig. This either-or arrangement worked well for many years. Whenever my own hair grew back in the bare spots I had it color-treated and no one was any the wiser. (Except for that one time I had a reaction to the chemicals and I came out of the process with fire engine red hair! No matter how much Lisa begged me to keep it that way I decided the whole punk rock look just wasn’t my style. It did provide one of the more light-hearted moments in the whole alopecia saga, however.)

One day several years later when going through a particularly horrible attack I saw my face in the mirror and thought, “How can my husband bear to even look at me? I don’t look anything like the woman he married!” There are probably very few women in America over 30 who look like they did at 18 (there are exceptions, some of which are in my own family) but the thought that this grotesque individual was the first thing my husband saw first thing every morning was enough to reduce me to tears again. In a realistic moment I realized that if I saw my most trusted girlfriends as they rolled out of bed sans make-up each morning I probably would not recognize them either and that was some comfort. Most of the women I know do whatever it takes to make the façade presentable before facing the public!

While I stood there at that mirror peering at my image I felt God speaking to me through scriptures that He brought to mind. “But we are all as an unclean thing, and all our righteousnesses are as filthy rags; and we all do fade as a leaf; and our iniquities, like the wind, have taken us away.” (Isaiah 64:6) And again, “I will greatly rejoice in the LORD, my soul shall be joyful in my God; for he hath clothed me with the garments of salvation, he hath covered me with the robe of righteousness, as a bridegroom decketh himself with ornaments, and as a bride adorneth herself with her jewels.”  (Isaiah 61:10) I also thought about the Christian’s armor that Paul described in Ephesians 6. The point those scriptures make is that in its natural state my spiritual appearance is filthy, too, but once I was cleansed by the blood of Jesus Christ my appearance became beautiful and righteous before my God.

This made sense to me. The persons or Persons who know my condition(s) the best love me the most because they see me with my adornments and not in my wretchedness. My husband doesn’t think of me in terms of my natural appearance. He sees the woman he loves as the one that everyone else sees.

I know that when God looks at me He doesn’t see me for what I really am either. He sees me clothed in the righteousness of Jesus! The mirror of His word tells me that I was a vile and disgusting sinner before the transformation took place but once the washing cleansed me Jesus was able to present me to the Father. What an awesome thought!

Mirrors are still a very important part of my arsenal. I try to keep one handy in case I need to make a quick adjustment to my appearance. I find that I must also keep my spiritual mirror – my Bible – handy to point out any adjustments that need to be made there, too.

To my husband I’m his beloved. To my God I’m accepted in the beloved. (Ephesians 1:6) That’s what I try to see whenever I look at myself in the mirror.

Blind Love and Blessings: Meeting the Enemy Head-on

The parents checked the baby’s breathing as she lay in her crib. That would not be unusual except that this was not their first child and she was not a newborn. While they watched they thought of the last couple of years: how they’d been told they’d probably never be able to have more children, then the surprise when they discovered within a month that they were expecting their third child. They also remembered the difficult pregnancy which was followed by an even more difficult childbirth. Those troubles seemed minuscule compared to the concern that now gripped them.

The baby had endured much recent illness. Aside from eczema that always seemed to mar her skin she had also been marked by chicken pox. In the last week her daddy and oldest sister were the only people in the household who did not catch it, one having had the childhood illness many years earlier, and the other just the month before. Now she, her older sister, and her mother were almost past the days of quarantine.

As the intense itching passed, all three seemed to be regaining their health. Recovery had been sufficient to return daily life to a normal routine. For the baby who was tired of lying on the couch near people who insisted on keeping her from scratching whatever itched this meant cruising around furniture and emptying toy boxes. And it was pleasant to be well enough to traverse the hallway from one end to the other again.

This routine did not last long. Within days the little one’s fever returned and brought with it a peculiar way of crawling using only one hand. Her family commented that she looked like a wounded bird holding up a wing.

The family consulted their pediatrician. Because of the chance of contagion they entered his office through the back door. After enduring strategic shuttling between doctor's office and hospital designed to minimize the risk of exposure to others, as well as several hours of x-rays and examinations, nothing noteworthy was found. The puzzled doctor applied an elastic bandage to the baby's arm because he concluded the baby had hurt her wrist.

This was a mistake! When the baby awoke from her afternoon nap the mother noticed that her young hand was swollen to such extreme proportions that it was almost as large as her own! She quickly removed the wrap.

The next morning it was clear that the baby’s health was suffering. She no longer had the energy to play and was fretful. For the second day in a row they sought medical care. The on-call doctor found a puncture wound within the fold of skin between the child’s thumb and index finger that was masked by eczema and chicken pox scabs. It was a spider bite.

Since the skin surrounding the bite did not appear to be dying the doctor believed that it was not caused by a brown recluse but announced that the situation was serious nonetheless. The child’s size, the amount of time that had elapsed between bite and diagnosis, and the recent battle with chicken pox had all hampered her body's ability to fight the toxins.

With prescriptions in hand and instructions drumming inside their stunned brains, the parents took their child home. They understood that they were to take the child to the nearest hospital if her health further declined however slight that change might be. Thus they began their bedside vigil.

The next morning the sun shone brightly through the bedroom window on parents napping beside the bed of their beloved child. The baby awoke with a lower body temperature, a praiseworthy event that again ushered in normal, routine days.

Or rather, that is how it appeared. A few weeks later when all the chicken pox scabs had fallen from their bodies the mother discovered that along with scabs her hair had fallen out leaving several nickel-sized patches of bare skin on her head. So began what would become the new kind of “normal, routine days” for this family.

This flashback is about the illnesses that The Princess and I battled at the age of 10 months and 29 year respectively. Although it would be a few months before I received the medical diagnosis that these events had triggered an autoimmune system disorder known as alopecia areata and 6 ½ years before I became sufficiently disfigured to seek prosthetic help, this is the story of how and when it attacked.


I wrote this true story from the third person perspective purely for a psychological reason: it was easier to write about these painful events by inserting a buffer, however small, between myself and the story by making myself an observer. Even after all these years, that night beside our baby's bed still upsets me.

At a later time my husband will also discuss this chapter in our lives at his blog, Exception Noted.

Blind Love and Blessings: First Things First

My first rocking chair and a baby book similar to the one that documents my progress through toddlerhood

When I was a small child my parents kept a baby book that documented many of the firsts in my young life: first tooth, first steps, first foods, and things of a similar nature. If you ask my mom a question about one of my early accomplishments she might pull the book out of her cabinet to find the answer.

My parents kept track of milestones because they love me.

Later there were firsts that didn’t make get recorded in a baby book. Perhaps you can recall some of the same firsts in your life.

Do you remember your first day of school? Or the first time you rode a bicycle without training wheels? How about your first pair of high heels (if you are a woman) or the first time you asked a young woman for her phone number (if you are a man)? Do you remember your first day of high school? How about college?

I remember the first time I saw the young man who would be my husband. He was standing at a podium making announcements during my college freshman orientation. The first time he saw me was a few days later when I was the first student to walk in a door at the same college on the first morning of classes. He was working in the foyer and was the first person I encountered. I'm not sure it was love at first sight for either of us, but Pastor Dad likes to tell me that he loved me before I loved him. I’m not sure if that’s true either, but perhaps it is.

Those are good firsts, but every person experiences bad ones also. Just how bad depends on whether they are merely distressful or truly devastating. Sometimes it takes time to know the difference.

Do you remember the first time someone humiliated you and you wanted to crawl into a hole and die? Or do you remember the first time you embarrassed yourself so badly that you thought you would never be able to laugh about the incident? I remember those firsts, too, and they don’t seem as bad now as they did when they happened.

I also remember the first time my hair fell out in such large patches that they could not be covered by styling. It was not the first time this autoimmune system disorder had caused me to lose some hair in the 6 years since it first attacked, but this was the first time that it had been this severe.

This first occurred in the shower on a busy Sunday morning when we had a guest speaker scheduled. When I called Pastor Dad he told me to stay home. As much as I wanted to do so, I just couldn’t bring myself to do it. I already owned the red felt hat that I still wear in season; in those years I wore it paired with a certain winter suit. It was cool enough that day for the ensemble's seasonal debut.

The hat many years later. Perhaps it should be bronzed like my baby shoes were as another token of growth.

Once that first shock passed I had to run an emotional gauntlet when dealing with people. I found that some possess refreshing wellsprings of kindness I never knew existed. Unfortunately, I also discovered that the reverse is true. Honestly, I was angry with individuals who said or did the wrong thing. Those incidents are best forgotten. Whether they were deliberate is not something I can assess. However, I am acutely aware of my own faltering thoughts, words, and deeds when dealing with others experiencing grief and that is enough to help me forgive.

source

My parents are not the only persons who ever noted my actions in a book. The Bible says that God keeps records, too. I wonder sometimes what is in that book and what it will be like when He brings it out for review. When my parents took note of my early deeds I was not even aware that these were noteworthy, those routine accomplishments that a growing child achieves, because I was immature and without understanding.

I might be surprised at the things God records too, being too spiritually immature to realize the consequences of some of my actions. There might be incidents there that I do not want recorded. Honestly, I was sometimes angry with God in those early days because I knew He had the ability to keep this trial out of my life but chose to allow it anyway. I am ashamed of the times when bitter waters spouted from my heart instead of the sweet waters of praise to my God. These are best forgotten because scripture tells me that through the words and deeds of Jesus Christ I have been forgiven.

I am reminded that the book my mother kept contains positive milestones in my life. Nowhere in that book is my first temper tantrum or the first time I disobey my parents recorded. As my heavenly parent, does God's journal show my spiritual growth?

Although I cannot say with any certainty what is in that book I know that God loves me, too. Actually, He loved me first and of all the people who love me He loves me best. I have no reason to fear what He has recorded.

The Beloved Apostle says in I John 4:18, 19

 There is no fear in love; but perfect love casteth out fear: because fear hath torment. He tht feareth is not made perfect in love. We love him, because he first loved us.

Before my children, Pastor Dad, or even my parents - all of whom have helped me to realize that what was at first a devastating experience is now merely a distressing one - loved me, God loved me. Because of this truth, I love Him and do not fear what the record says but am determined that the record be one that shows spiritual growth and progress.

(Beautiful words! Beautiful voice! Beautiful hair! )

Blind Love and Blessings

What follows is the introduction to a love story between a man, a woman, their family, and God.

One early spring morning my husband and I were looking out the window at our bird feeders when a male cardinal appeared with his mate. He sported the kind of brilliant red plumage that often causes me to run for the camera. The female, on the other hand, was not so lovely, but her lack of beauty went beyond the muted colors for which female cardinals are known. She was grossly disfigured! Scars covered her body and even her crowning glory, the feathered crest that identifies the finch species, was absent. She looked as though she had survived a battle with hedge clippers and perhaps she had.

While we watched the pair eat – first the female and then the male – my husband said jokingly, “What does he see in her?!” This question is one that I often ponder but rarely in conjunction with birds. As I slowly turned to give my own mate a meaningful look I felt the Lord prodding, “It’s time to talk about it.” 

Talk about it? Really? I wasn’t easily convinced so it has taken time to decipher whether this was the leading of the Lord or just preoccupation with something that could easily be mistaken for a heavenly nudge. This state of indecision was such that I searched the scriptures for almost a year. You see, it wasn’t this spring that Pastor Dad and I were looking at the cardinals. It was last year. I haven’t seen her recently and she is unmistakable! I tell you all this to say that I really don't want to tell you all this at all!

But God is good and after much prayer and Bible study I think I understand why this story must be told. Somehow God will get glory from it. And somewhere someone needs this information. Isn’t that what everything that touches our life is supposed to do? Glorify God and help others? Perhaps it is by helping others that we glorify God. I don’t know. I only know that it is our responsibility to tell and it is up to God to do with it as He wills. If I'm wrong and the Lord wasn't prodding the only thing I have to lose is a bit of dignity, but if the Lord was nudging and I don't tell I will be disobedient to His leading. I'd rather risk my dignity.

My husband and I have agreed to relate the story by telling it through two different perspectives, his and mine, and by means of two different blogs, his and mine. We agree that it is risky to leave ourselves open to either criticism and/or voyeurism but it seems the only way to give the glory to our God. To not talk about the things the Lord has taught us is to fail to acknowledge God’s goodness.

And that reveals another problem. There is always the fear that someone will think the motive is self-exultation. Such a thing seems sadomasochistic, but I know we all must stand vigilant to be able to avoid pride so we covet your prayers in this matter. Pray that we do not forget that it is God who sustains us through His grace.

If I was clever I would give our story the title of “The Love Between the Man of the Cloth and the Woman in the Hat” with the subtitle “How God taught a pastor and his wife lessons in Righteousness, Relationships, and Reality.” Or maybe the subtitle would be “. . . lessons in Faith, Family, and Facades” or even “. . . lessons in Burdens, Blessings, and Beauty.” (This paragraph was included to show that my sense of humor has not suffered while wrestling with the nudging.)  J

These articles will not appear according to any certain schedule but will be available as we're able to produce them. They will be linked between this blog and Pastor Dad’s (Exception Noted). Also, they will not be the sole topic of discussion. Just as our lives continue with a certain sense of normalcy, so will our blogs. Together Pastor Dad and I invite you to share in our attempt to “tell [you] how great things the Lord hath done for [us] and hath had compassion on [us]. “ (Mark 5:19)

I am closing this introductory article with a music video of the song that reminds me of the many prayers I prayed asking God to bless in this situation. He did bless, just not in the way I anticipated.