I'm Back!

Wow!  It has been a long time - 23 days since my last entry.  2010 is behind us and we are firmly entrenched in 2011.

I have sat down a few times, attempting to post, but I have to be honest, this has been a very difficult time for the Rutledge household.  We have been dealing with injury and pain in our home and I have just not had it in me to be chatty and self-revealing.

I shared with you, some time ago, about my personal journey with pain and I am still dealing with that on a much lesser level.  Right now it is my daughter Rachel and especially my sweet husband Steve who are the ones most affected.

Just before Christmas, Rachel was at a basketball practice when she sprained her ankle.  It was a very bad sprain and she is still recovering from that.  Fortunately, she is healing and can now put weight on her foot and walk without that enormous boot, but she has been sitting on the sidelines since the beginning of the basketball season.  We are praying for a complete recovery so she can get back out on the court and end the season strong!

Steve injured his back several years ago, while riding a mountain bike on vacation.  He has suffered back pain off and on since that time.  In the past several months however, the pain has become almost unbearable and he is in constant pain, virtually confined to bed.  It is impossible to express how helpless I feel at my inability to help him or relieve his suffering in any way.  Steve needs a miracle, a special touch from the hand of God.

I shared my own experience with chronic pain in my blog series "The Gift of Pain".  I must confess, I have considered, more than once, removing that series from this site.  It is one thing to endure pain yourself but entirely another thing to watch someone you love suffer daily with pain.

Our faith has been tested through this time.  I can't say that I have always come through with shining colors, but it is a daily process of growing in relationship - with Steve and with the Lord.  Please remember us in prayer that we will be strengthened and that Steve will be made completely whole.

I have to say, in the midst of all of the pain and difficulty that our family has been dealing with, we have seen God's grace extended to us time and time again through the very real friends that have given to us so graciously in every form.  We are overwhelmed and amazed at how generous and loving our family and friends are.  Thank you, from the depths of our hearts.

Although 2010 basically sucked,  I am looking forward to an amazing 2011 and expecting great things! 

And so, Lord, where do I put my hope?
      My only hope is in you. 
 Psalm 39:7

So, enough about us.  I have a favor to ask.  I have shared with you in the past about my nephew Caleb and his incredible guide dog Kane.  Well, Caleb's dad Randy is competing to win $1000 for the guide dog charity.  If you click on the link below you can vote for Randy's video and help him win money for this incredible organization, making it possible for another family to have a guide dog like theirs. 

http://www.minioakville.com/win%2Da%2Dcountryman/?test_drivers=randy-mitchell

Please take a minute to vote.  This contest ends Friday, January 21 and you can vote once a day.

Thanks for helping out.

Confessions of Faith

I have a confession to make.  

I was hesitant about making this confession publicly but here it goes.

I feel good.

I know it's been a while since you've heard anyone reveal something quite as shocking so I will give you a moment to let that sink in.

Now that you've had time to absorb it, you're probably thinking, why would you hesitate to confess something like that?  It's good news, right?

It's been a long time since I've felt good.  It has been a long time, years actually, since I've felt good physically.  I've shared my story with you here about my long battle with chronic pain and the ups and downs that I have experienced.

So, why not jump up and down and shout it from the rooftops?

I'm hesitant for a couple of reasons.

1.  It's kind of hard to believe.  I'm sitting here taking a body inventory and there isn't a single area of my body screaming at me for attention.  Just a week and a half ago I was back at the doctor's office asking for a referral to a pain management doctor and now I'm wondering where that pain went.

I am on the other side of forty, sliding towards fifty, so there are a few body parts that are grumpy and groaning, but I think, at my age, that's to be expected.  Compared to what I've been dealing with for the past several years it feels positively exhilarating.

2.  I hate to admit this, but I'm afraid it won't last.  This is, I fear. at the crux of the matter.  My faith is weak.  

I have become accustomed to pain.  I am not used to living without it.  It's become familiar.  It's what I know.

The reason I'm going out on a limb and confessing this to you today is because I don't want to live with the familiar.  I don't want to live a life without faith.  I don't want to live a life with pain and I don't want to be afraid of feeling good.  

 There is a story in the Bible that speaks to me so vividly.  It is the story of the ten lepers.

  "Now on his way to Jerusalem, Jesus traveled along the border between Samaria and Galilee.  As he was going into a village, ten men who had leprosy met him. They stood at a distance and called out in a loud voice, "Jesus, Master, have pity on us!"   When he saw them, he said, "Go, show yourselves to the priests." And as they went, they were cleansed.
  One of them, when he saw he was healed, came back, praising God in a loud voice.  He threw himself at Jesus' feet and thanked him—and he was a Samaritan.
  Jesus asked, "Were not all ten cleansed? Where are the other nine?  Was no one found to return and give praise to God except this foreigner?"  Then he said to him, "Rise and go; your faith has made you well."
Luke 17:11-19

All ten men were healed.  Only one returned to give thanks, "praising God in a loud voice."  Did the other nine doubt their healing?  Had they become accustomed to the pain, to being social outcasts?  The Scriptures don't tell us.  But we do know there was one who returned.

Today, I am standing with the one who returned.  I am throwing myself at Jesus' feet and publicly thanking him for the healing that is taking place in my body.  I am thanking Him for another restful night's sleep and another day without pain or pain medication. 

I am excited about tomorrow and filled with wonder at all that God has done and all that he has in store for me and my family. 

He is birthing something new in me and continues to fill my heart with compassion for the broken, the poor, the lonely and the disenfranchised.  I may not know where is is leading, but I pray that I will, be found faithful.

  God is gracious—it is he who makes things right,
      our most compassionate God.
   God takes the side of the helpless;
      when I was at the end of my rope, he saved me.

 I said to myself, "Relax and rest.
      God has showered you with blessings.
      Soul, you've been rescued from death;
      Eye, you've been rescued from tears;
      And you, Foot, were kept from stumbling."

 I'm striding in the presence of God,
      alive in the land of the living!
   I stayed faithful, though bedeviled,
      and despite a ton of bad luck,
   Despite giving up on the human race,
      saying, "They're all liars and cheats."

 What can I give back to God
      for the blessings he's poured out on me?
   I'll lift high the cup of salvation—a toast to God!
      I'll pray in the name of God;
   I'll complete what I promised God I'd do,
      and I'll do it together with his people.
   When they arrive at the gates of death,
      God welcomes those who love him.
   Oh, God, here I am, your servant,
      your faithful servant: set me free for your service!
   I'm ready to offer the thanksgiving sacrifice
      and pray in the name of God.
   I'll complete what I promised God I'd do,
      and I'll do it in company with his people,
   In the place of worship, in God's house,
      in Jerusalem, God's city.
   Hallelujah! 
Psalm 116 (MSG)

The Gift of Pain - Chapter 10

Last night I learned a lesson from a beagle. 


I couldn't sleep and lay in bed for hours before I finally decided to get up and read.  While I was sitting in the chair, our dog Casey came into the room and whimpered to be let out. 


Some time later I called to her to come back in.  Getting no response, I stepped outside and called again.  I called repeatedly and went to the side of the house where I discovered the gate was wide open.  I quickly threw on my shoes, grabbed my keys and headed out to find her, knowing her chances of survival through the night in our neighborhood were slim, with coyotes on the prowl. 


I cruised up and down the streets for over half an hour with visions of my twelve-year-old son's tearful face floating in my mind as I told him that his beloved dog was lost forever.  I finally returned home, discouraged and praying that someone would find her and call the phone number on her tag.  I trudged down the hallway heading to bed, but as I turned to enter our bedroom I heard the familiar tinkling of dog tags.  Turning my head I saw Casey look up at me from the end of Sam's bed where she had been calmly laying all along.  Apparently, I had been absorbed in my reading and hadn't noticed as she slipped back in the door.  I had seen the open gate and assumed the worst.


So, where does the lesson come in?


This little incident with our dog reminded me of the way I treat my relationship with God.  I am so absorbed with myself, with what I'm doing and with the busyness of life.  Finally, I take the time to stop and be with him.  If I don't find him exactly where I expect to see him, I wonder if he's gone.  I begin, in a panic to race around physically or mentally, when all I really need to do is "Be still and know that HE is God" (Ps. 46:10).


And to think, a sofa-scratching, hair-shedding beagle could be used to remind me of this.  Amazing.

Well, here we are at Chapter 10.    (For chapters 1-9 of My Story, The Gift of Pain, click on the link at right.)  When I started chronicling this, a few months ago, I expected this story would take two to three chapters and a couple of weeks to tell, but it has taken me more time and energy than I imagined.  I have had to dig deep into the past and recall times that I would just as soon forget.

"Why bother?"  You may ask.  In the words of the author Brennan Manning, "grace and healing are communicated through the vulnerability of men and women who have been fractured and heartbroken by life.  In Love's service, only wounded soldiers can serve."

I am simply a wounded soldier in the service of the One who first loved me.

This is this chapter where the cure is found, the problems are solved and everyone rides off into the sunset.  This story, however is real life -  my life.  Like I said from the beginning, there isn't a neat ending, in fact, there isn't really an ending.

I completed the pain management program and received so much incredible help and invaluable information.  I have been able to slowly wean myself off of all but the most basic of pain medications and for that I praise God.  That was an experience I do not want to revisit.

The fact remains that I am still dealing with chronic pain and the ongoing effects of my injury.  I have good days and bad days.  But, I'm glad to say, the good days outnumber the bad.  I am debating what steps to take next.  Having tried a myriad of treatments I'm not sure how to proceed and I'm hesitant to let them operate, since this injury was inflicted during surgery, so I'm moving cautiously and weighing my options.

I entitled my story The Gift of Pain.  There have been times, over these past several weeks when the use of this title seemed more like folly or hubris, but as I have come to the end of this story I realize that it is true - the pain that I have suffered has been a gift, and one that I would never wish to return.

These past several years have changed me forever.  My relationship with my husband has grown deeper.  I have developed a compassion for others that I never had before.  I have grown personally, emotionally and spiritually and continue to grow every day as I learn to "define myself radically as one beloved by God."

I conclude my story, for now, with these beautiful words by Brennan Manning in his book Abba's Child.

"there have been times...

when the felt presence of God was more real to me
than the chair I am sitting on;
     when the Word richocheted like broken-backed
lightning in every corner of my soul;
    when a storm of desire carried me to places I had
never visited.
    And there have been other times...
    when I identified with the words of Mae West: "I
used to be Snow White---but I drifted";
    when the Word was as stale as old ice cream and
as bland as tame sausage;
    when the fire in my belly flickered and died;
    when I mistook dried-up enthusiasm for gray-haired
wisdom;
    when I dismissed youthful idealism as mere
naivete;
    when I preferred cheap slivers of glass to the pearl
of great price."

"The kingdom of heaven is like a merchant seeking beautiful pearls, who, when he had found one pearl of great price, went and sold all that he had and bought it."
Matthew 13:45,46

The Gift of Pain - Chapter 9

To read Chapters 1-8 of My Story - The Gift of Pain, click on the links at right.

This past week I had a friend suffer an incredible loss. I watched her stand firm in her faith, assured that the God that she serves is the same God in her grieving that he was in her joy.

I also reconnected with a very special friend from my past. He is in the advanced stages of incurable cancer. I called him, expecting to comfort him in his sickness and instead was encouraged and comforted by him. He is suffering incredible pain, as the cancer is ravaging his body. But he shared, with joy in his voice, how God has become so very real in his life. He is learning, in a way that I cannot imagine “to live is Christ and to die is gain.”

The pain these precious friends are suffering makes my pain look like a paper cut in comparison. 

Yet, we all have our own crosses to bear – our own journeys of suffering and pain. We can travel through these journeys and allow them to shape us in different ways. We can carry the pain deep within, allowing it to scar our spirits, embitter our minds, halt our growth and block relationships or we can take that pain and use it.

When we share the experiences of our pain with others we have a common ground. We are not ‘better than’. The pain has a purpose. The enemy of our souls doesn’t have the victory, but God gets the glory. So, with that in mind, I continue my story, hoping it will encourage your spirit in some small way.



I was still in a great deal of pain, but the Lord had spoken words of healing to my heart. The doctor had given me a referral to the Chronic Pain Management program.

The referral I received was a godsend. The people I discovered there were compassionate, knowledgeable, and informed. The program was comprehensive and covered every aspect of pain management – food and nutrition, the physiology of pain, managing medications, alternative therapies, physical therapy and a myriad of other topics.

I know that the healthcare system gets a bad rap these days, and deservedly so. I have seen my fair share of the dark side of health care, but I have to say, my experience with our health provider Kaiser has been top-notch, particularly through this incredible program. They were ‘healers’ in every sense of the word, caring and concerned about the mental, emotional, spiritual and physical health of every one of their patients.

We met in a small group setting twice a week for three hours and then one-on-one with therapists and doctors. It was a very comprehensive program. I also began undergoing intense physical therapy.

They made regular adjustments to my pain medications, trying to make the pain manageable and reduce the side effects of these heavy meds. One of the worst side effects I experienced was sensory hallucinations. I woke up in the middle of the night experiencing a variety of sensory experiences. One night I awakened Steve, convinced that the house was burning down as I could smell fire. Another time I had the sensation that all of my teeth had fallen out and I had nothing left in my mouth but gums!

The doctors continued to monitor my condition and make the necessary adjustments and slowly my pain became more manageable.

The small group that I met with weekly was comprised of a group of approximately fourteen people. They varied in age from mid-20’s to mid-70’s. These sweet people had all suffered from chronic pain for a minimum of several years. One gentleman had suffered with terrible pain for the majority of his 60+ years of life. Lupus, slipped discs, botched surgeries, cancer and other causes had brought all of us together in this small room, looking for relief from our pain.

Many of those that came had to be driven there. Some could not sit throughout the sessions but had to stand or lie down on a mat.

I have never been surrounded by such a courageous group of people.

The first week or two things were pretty quiet. Nobody had much to say. Everyone was surrounded by their own cloud of pain. But before long we found that common ground and our sessions were filled with laughter, teasing, and a camaraderie that only the wounded can share.

You can’t begin to imagine the hundreds of ways that pain and the accompanying medications affect your body – physiological, emotional, sexual, spiritual. The incredible doctors and therapists shared with us weekly a vast array of information and knowledge that encouraged us and gave us hope.

Much of the information was very technical and took a lot of time to understand, but some of the most helpful information I received was the simplest. The one thing that I think helped me the most was this.

Breathe.

Duh, right? Okay, I know you're thinking, Karen, you didn't know that before? This is the thing. When you are hurt, or tense or uptight, you stop breathing. Think of a time when you were scared. You tensed up and held your breath, right? When the threat passed, you took a deep breath. Well, people with chronic pain tend to be in a continual state of 'holding their breath' or 'short breathing'. This does not allow proper oxygen flow to the brain and without that oxygen flow healing can't take place.

So obvious and so simple. It was an absolute 'aha!' moment for me.

So, sit up straight in your chair right now. Put your shoulders back. Place your hand on your stomach. Take a deep breath. Push out your diaphragm. Hold that breath and then slooooowly release it. Repeat it several times.

When you feel tense or you are in pain, practice this deep breathing technique. It will NOT make all your troubles go away, but it will aid in healing.

Let the healing begin!


"Watch this: I'm bringing the breath of life to you and you'll come to life. I'll attach sinews to you, put meat on your bones, cover you with skin, and breathe life into you. You'll come alive and you'll realize that I am God!"
^{Ezekiel 37:5-6 (MSG)}

The Gift of Pain - Chapter 8

To read Chapters 1-7 of My Story - The Gift of Pain, click on the links at right.


The next morning, when I woke up, I rolled over and slowly realized I had slept though the night for the first time since my surgery. The pain was almost completely gone. I go out of bed, lifted my arm and shouted to Steve. Suddenly, I realized what had happened. For over a month, my shoulder had been dislocated and the sudden jerk from my fall the night before had set it back in place!

I moved my arm back and forth, amazed at the freedom of movement and how much the pain was reduced. For the rest of the day I was ecstatic, feeling like a fog had lifted from my brain. That night we decided to go out for frozen yogurt. I was smiling and happy, so glad to be out of the house and feeling human once again.

An old friend stopped by while we were sitting around chatting. She reached down and hugged me. As she did so, I could feel my shoulder slip back out and the searing pain return. I sucked in my breath and quickly turned away. As I did so, my sister saw the expression on my face and asked if I was all right. Tears started streaming down my face as I shook my head. I quickly got up and went to the bathroom inside the store.

I could not stand the pain and moved my arm this way and that, trying to get it set back in place. I was absolutely panicked and finally, in desperation, smashed my shoulder against the concrete wall, praying for relief. That did it. The shoulder was reset but my pain was still intense.

We went to see the doctor the next day and I related all that had happened since my last visit. I clearly had more mobility but the doctor would not believe that my shoulder had been dislocated all that time. He was very skeptical and made a referral to an orthopedist specializing in shoulders. I begged for some way to keep my shoulder from slipping out again and they fitted me with a brace, but my shoulder felt extremely loose and vulnerable and I was terrified at the thought of it slipping out again.

Once again, I started the medical merry-go-round of doctor’s visits, x-rays, and tests, followed by more doctor’s visits and more elaborate x-rays. After a prolonged period and another incident with my shoulder slipping out of joint, it was finally revealed. I had indeed dislocated my shoulder and torn the rotator cuff. Something had happened in that surgical unit when I was unconscious and this was the result. To make matters worse, I had developed frozen shoulder.

The orthopedist said that my case was extremely unusual (not the first time I had heard that) because the dislocation occurred in a different place than normal. This made it hard to detect in the first round of x-rays. He prescribed physical therapy and referred me to a Chronic Pain Management program.  He mentioned the possibility of surgery to correct the torn rotator cuff.  Needles to say, I was not in any hurry to go back under the knife.

The short-term relief I had felt after my shoulder reset the first time was long gone and I was back in a foggy tunnel of pain. The medication I was taking provided negligible relief. I was sinking lower and lower every day. I never imagined I could endure such unrelenting agony.

One day, I lay on my bed, crying out to God, baring my soul. For some strange reason, the picture of a broken pencil was floating in my mind.

“God, I am of no use to anyone. I am useless, like the broken end of a pencil – chewed up, missing the eraser, with the tip broken off. I want to die. What can you possibly do with a broken person like me?”

I had never felt so low and I truly wished for death. I could not imagine continuing my life in such a pitiful condition. As I lay there, bemoaning my state, I heard God’s voice whisper quietly and sweetly to my spirit. At first I couldn’t understand it, but slowly these words started to seep into my heart.

“My child, you may be broken. You may be just like that little nub of a pencil, but I can take that broken nub, sharpen the tip and with it, I can draw a masterpiece or write a symphony. And my daughter, I don't need an eraser, because I never make mistakes.”

My dear friend, as I write this, I can barely read the screen as the tears pour down. Because I know that these words are meant for you also. You may be broken, you may feel chewed up. You may wonder how God could possibly ever use someone like you.

This is the beauty of real relationship with God. When we are at the end of ourselves, He is there…

I cannot promise you a life free from pain, or healed relationships and easy living. But this I know, beyond a shadow of doubt. You will not be alone on your journey. The Lord is that “friend who sticks closer than a brother”. There is a peace and joy that transcends mere happiness as you grow in relationship with Him. Accept the gift of His presence.

He has promised this, and it is a promise on which you can rely.
"Never will I leave you;
never will I forsake you."
Hebrews 13:5

Ever so slowly, the healing had begun, not just a physical healing, but the healing of my spirit.


The name of the LORD is a strong tower;
the righteous run to it and are safe.
Proverbs 18:10

The Gift of Pain - Chapter 7

To read chapters 1-6 of My Story – The Gift of Pain, click on the links at right.

I don’t know about you, but reading through this story again, I’m ready for it to be over! Stick with me. There are only a few chapters left.

This is not a happy story. It is also fairly one-sided. In spite of the pain and sickness of the past several years, I have 

• enjoyed my children and celebrated their achievements, 
• made new friends and savored time with old ones, 
• loved my husband and my family, 
• laughed with friends and relished the good times, 
• dug dipper into the Word and worshiped my Savior. 

With each new trial that has come our way, I have grown to rely on God more and more and for that, and all the other blessings He has given me, I thank Him.

I have set the LORD always before me;
Because He is at my right hand I shall not be moved.
Psalm 16:8 (NKJV)

As I lay in the outpatient recovery room, I began to feel the pain as the anesthetic wore off. Steve called over a nurse and she administered meds through my IV. They brought a small measure of relief but very quickly wore off.  He summoned the nurse again and explained that my level of pain was back to a '10'.  He asked if there was any way to relieve my suffering. Each time they administered drugs, the relief was negligible and the searing pain returned.

I mentioned that the pain also appeared to be coming from my left shoulder, but no one took notice and the afternoon dragged on. One by one, the other patients that were in the room for the same surgery were released to go home as they recovered suitably.

Finally, I was the only patient left, still in terrible pain, with no break in sight. The nurse, exasperated, said she had given me every form of pain meds available. If I needed anything stronger, I would need the doctor's approval.  They summoned the surgeon and he appeared. He was exhausted from a day of performing surgeries and a bit annoyed at being called. The nurse informed him of my pain level and their attempts to control it. "She says she's still at a 9 or 10. She wants something more. It doesn't make sense because we've given her high doses of meds all day and it doesn't appear to be helping at all."

"Give her whatever she needs, so she can go home," were the doctor's words. "She probably has a high tolerance to the medication since she's been dealing with chronic pain for years."  Finally, they administered straight morphine and my pain diminished to a dull roar. They finally felt I was stable enough and I was released to go home. By the time we arrived home, my pain had skyrocketed once again.

I had been taking Oxycontin for two months prior to my surgery, as my pain had escalated. Now, I increased my intake from every four hours to every two hours with morphine for breakthrough pain and still, I felt no real measure of relief.

This is where things get very foggy. The rest of the events, as I relate them in this chapter, are recalled to the best of my ability. I sat with Steve to help me remember how things transpired while I was in this black hole. It is still a blur, but I believe this is how things occurred.

Two days after surgery, Steve couldn't bear to see me in such agony and called the doctor's office to see if we could go in before my week follow-up appointment. He was reminded that the doctor was in Italy on vacation and we were scheduled to see him in two weeks, when he returned.  I had not slept since I got home from the hospital. I would drift off and awaken, sobbing with the pain. There was no position where I could find relief. I was literally overcome with mind-numbing pain, in my hand, my elbow and stabbing in my shoulder.

Within a couple days, I couldn’t bear it any longer. Steve called our own health provider and scheduled an appointment with the first doctor available. I had never seen her before and she really knew nothing of my condition prior to this, since it has been handled through Worker’s Comp. She was convinced that my pain was aggravated by depression, as I sat in her office like a zombie, barely able to raise my head or put two words together. She prescribed me an anti-depressant and scheduled me to see my regular doctor in a couple weeks.

I went to get my stitches removed, a week after surgery and the nurse asked me to turn my arm over so she could get at the stitches on the inside of my elbow. I could not raise or turn my arm and cried out every time she tried to manipulate it. She was very sympathetic and somewhat alarmed that I was still experiencing so much pain. She called in another doctor on duty to have him look at my arm.  Again, I expressed how the pain seemed to be focused on my shoulder more than the surgical sites. He had no answers for me and increased my Oxycontin intake significantly.

Finally, the surgeon returned and I went for my follow-up appointment. He was annoyed that I was still wearing my sling and said that I probably pulled a muscle in my shoulder when I was in surgery, because they had my hand over my head to get at the inside of my elbow. He insisted that I remove the sling and live without it, or I wouldn’t heal properly.

By this time I was on the highest dose of Oxycontin that the doctor could prescribe, taking it every 4-6 hours. I was taking morphine for break-through pain, anti-depressants, anti-seizure meds and God only knows what else.

I was drugged-up and messed up and begging for relief. I would lie in bed, crying and begging God to remove the pain or take me out of my misery. My prayers seemed to bounce off the ceiling. I moved from the bed to the sofa, constantly struggling to find a comfortable position, but there was none to be found. I prayed to die, since I knew I couldn’t continue to live like this.

Can't you see I'm black-and-blue,
beat up badly in bones and soul?
God, how long will it take
for you to let up?
I'm no good to you dead, am I?
I can't sing in your choir if I'm buried in some tomb!

I'm tired of all this—so tired. My bed
has been floating forty days and nights
On the flood of my tears.
My mattress is soaked, soggy with tears.
The sockets of my eyes are black holes;
nearly blind, I squint and grope.
Psalm 6: 2-3, 5-7 (MSG)

On July 4, I finally left the house. The whole family was going to my cousin’s house for a barbecue and fireworks and I didn’t want to disappoint the kids by staying home again. I knew I could escape to the back bedroom if things became unbearable.

I was walking across the family room when, suddenly, I tripped and fell forward. I reached with my right arm to catch myself on the coffee table. As I did so, I heard a loud pop and felt my shoulder jerk. I screamed in pain and thought, “I’ve done it now.” Whatever had been bothering my shoulder before, this certainly couldn’t be good.

The Gift of Pain - Chapter 6

For chapters 1-5 of My Story - The Gift of Pain, click on the links to the right.

Following Steve’s heart attack, it became apparent that one of us needed a job that provided health insurance, since this had become a major expense for us, maintaining independent health coverage.

Steve was growing stronger every day and his film and live event production business was flourishing. I looked for a job that would be flexible with the kid’s school schedules and provide me with the needed benefits.

Our oldest daughter had previously worked for a major coffee chain. She mentioned that they had full benefits for part-time employees so I went to her old store and applied for a job.

By this time, Ashley was attending Vanguard University in Costa Mesa and we had our two youngest still at home, in elementary school. Ashley had just returned from Costa Rica where she lived for a few years, working with missionary friends of ours and studying Spanish. What a privilege to see your child dedicated to service for God and others.

Anyway, enough mom bragging - back to the story. I got the job and I loved it! The benefits were amazing and they gave me exactly the shift I needed in order to be with the kids when they were home from school.

I admit, at first it was a real challenge, learning the customer’s names and their drink of choice, memorizing the various combinations, codes and products and standing through a full shift (I’m not as young as I used to be), but I came to love the interaction with our customers and looked forward to their bright smiles and the camaraderie of the other employees. There was never a dull moment, dealing with those cursed Frappuccinos, double tall half-caf no fat lattes and the occasional cranky customer.

After I had worked there for several months I asked the manager if I could train to be a barista, making drinks for the customers, instead of standing behind the register. I was trained to work the espresso machines and make drinks and rose to the challenge of creating the ‘perfect foam’. The time flew by and I was soon able to handle our busiest shifts on my own.

Thanksgiving and Christmas holidays arrived. The lines became longer and the pace more frenetic. I noticed a nagging pain in my right hand. I didn’t realize how physical this job would be, constantly carrying and lifting. I mentioned the pain to my fellow employees and they said I would eventually adjust to the physical aspects of the job.

We flew to Canada to be with Steve’s family for Christmas and I was certain that the much-needed rest would do the trick.

We had an amazing time with family, spending our Christmas at the Circle Square Ranch in Arden where the kids played endless games of 'Manhunt' through the empty dorm rooms, romped in the snow, rode horses and enjoyed being with their cousins. It was a wonderful break!

We came back in the New Year and I returned to work rested and refreshed. However, it was only a matter of hours before the pain returned and developed in my left hand as well.

I finally told my boss that I needed a referral to Worker’s Comp to deal with the pain. The assistant manager placed the referral and I went to see a doctor.

I cannot begin to describe the web of confusion and mismanagement that is called Worker’s Comp. I won’t go into all the boring details, but for over two years I went from doctor to specialist to therapist and back around again as they basically attempted to disprove my pain.

At first, my manager was very sympathetic, trying to give me lighter shifts and accommodating me when they could. It became impossible, however, as this job requires lifting on the part of every employee. When there is a line of customers out the door, there are three people working and something heavy needs to be moved or lifted, you just do it.

I encountered countless other people who were truly suffering and in pain, as I was, struggling to deal with the Worker’s Comp mess. They delayed treatment time and again, as my health continued to decline.

I got to the point where I had pain, tingling and numbness in both of my hands, along with pain in my elbows, my neck and my feet. It was constant. I couldn’t continue to work since my condition was deteriorating so rapidly. I finally had to secure the services of a lawyer, since they refused to address my pain and treat me appropriately.

I was diagnosed, misdiagnosed and re-diagnosed with a myriad of conditions, none that seemed to fit exactly what was going on in my body. Eventually, it was determined that I had carpal tunnel syndrome in both hands, a compressed disc in my neck and ulnar neuropathy, originating in my elbows. Lovely.

After endless wrangling with my employer and Worker’s Comp, I was finally scheduled for surgery, over three years after the pain began. As things had worsened on my left side, my right hand and elbow had improved, so I was scheduled for an ulnar nerve release on my elbow and open carpal tunnel release surgery on my left hand. There were no guarantees that it would work, but the odds were in my favor and all other treatments had failed. I was relieved to finally be facing the end of this journey and knew it couldn’t possibly be any worse.

In May 2009 I went to a hospital in Long Beach where they performed the required surgeries. I was there on an outpatient basis and when I came to, Steve was standing over me smiling. We could finally begin the healing process. I didn’t know, that day, that I would experience the worst pain of my life before the healing could begin.

The Gift of Pain - Chapter 5

To read Chapters 1-4 of My Story, click on the links at the right.

Before I continue this next chapter, I have a confession to make. I am feeling a bit squeamish about the title of my story "The Gift of Pain". When I began writing this, most of my pain was in the past.  It had settled to a dull roar and I felt that I had really learned some lessons that I could share. Unfortunately, the pain has returned and is increasing. Once you read the chapters dealing with my chronic pain (I promise, I will get there eventually), you will understand better why I do not want to return to those days of misery.

I have discovered that pain is a cruel master. Just when you think you have beat him back, he rears his ugly head trying to wrest control of your life once again. I guess, in some weird way, this is where the gift aspect comes in. I don’t know if I would have learned how desperately and completely I need the Lord’s presence in my life, were it not for the pain. I’m that stubborn and hard headed.  I just really wish I could learn this another way. 

Right now, I have to admit, I am praying for a reprieve. If you are looking to read a story that wraps up nicely, like the final five minutes of some mindless TV show, where everything is resolved and they all ride off into the sunset, then quit reading now.  

If you are a 'name it and claim it' Christian, this will not fit your theology.  I offer this alone, a firm and deep conviction that whether or not I am ever free of pain, God is who he says he is, he is worthy of my praise, and my life is in his hands.

"Since Jesus went through everything you're going through and more, learn to think like him. Think of your sufferings as a weaning from that old sinful habit of always expecting to get your own way. Then you'll be able to live out your days free to pursue what God wants instead of being tyrannized by what you want."  ^{1 Peter 4:1-2(MSG)}

Are you ready?….read on.

I will never forget the sight of my dear husband, lying in our bed while a dozen firemen and paramedics crowded into our room . It was surreal. I stood motionless at the end of the bed, until the phone rang. “Mommy, are you going to pick us up from school?” asked our daughter. “You’re late!” I put on my cheery mommy voice and said, “Oh, I'm sorry. I guess I got busy and forgot.  Someone will be there to pick you up in a minute.”

I asked my brother to get the kids from school and he left. The paramedics loaded Steve into the ambulance and told me I would need to follow in my car. I was alone and scared. I immediately called my parents but got their voice mail instead. I finally called my sister, living in Vancouver at the time, and burst into tears when she answered the phone. She prayed with me and reassured me that everything would be all right. God was in control.

I hung up the phone and sat in my car, unable to move. All at once, I felt a deep sense of peace settle over me like a warm blanket wrapped around my shoulders. I had never experienced anything so supernatural yet so very real. I dried my tears and headed to the hospital calmly. When I got there, I was directed to the emergency room where a dozen people were hooking up Steve to wires and monitors, asking a constant stream of questions. Their cheery demeanor and professionalism calmed me further. One of the doctors announced, “Congratulations Mr. Rutledge, you are having a heart attack.”

Before long, my parents arrived and rushed to my side. We were told that Steve would be going to the cath lab for further testing and I kissed his cheek as they whisked him away.

Over the next several hours the waiting room filled with family and friends as they came to support our daughter Ashley and me. Our youngest two spent the night at my brother’s house, oblivious to the drama at the hospital. I sat calmly in the waiting room, still sensing that “peace that passes understanding”.

After a while, the doctor came and gave us the news. While undergoing testing, Steve had gone into cardiogenic shock.  They almost lost him, but were able to start his heart again.  They implanted an external heart pump to stabilize him so he could survive  emergency coronary artery bypass surgery. The doctor stated, matter-of-fact, that if I hadn’t called 9-1-1 when I did, he would have died. I heard the doctor, but it was days later before the reality of the situation sank in. I signed the approval forms and we continued waiting.

As Steve tells it, one minute he was lying on the table looking at the heart monitor. All of a sudden… he saw it flat-line.

He looked from the monitor to the doctor and then passed out. The next thing he knew he was waking up from surgery. “I thought I died,” he says. When I woke up, everyone looked grim, telling me I had to have a double by-pass. All I could think was, I’m glad to be alive!”

He certainly wasn’t the only one that felt that way. We called friends and family with the good news, praising God for sparing Steve and for the quick actions of the paramedics and doctors.  We braced ourselves for the days of recovery ahead, as his parents booked their flights to come from Canada to be with us.

Let me ask you something, at this point? What is your greatest fear? What is that thing that keeps you awake at night or that you are certain you could never survive? For me, it had always been the possibility of my husband being hurt or injured. From the time we were married, I was certain that I would be widowed at a young age (that time has certainly passed!) I could not imagine how I would manage if I was left to cope with our lives alone. Maybe because we had been married very young and I had never really handled life on my own. Whatever the reason, it was a very real deep-seated fear of mine that I had never shared with anyone.

Now my fear had become a reality. He had survived the heart attack and the surgery, but he was incapacitated and would be so for some time. Being self-employed, we didn’t have sick days or disability insurance to fall back on. How long could we survive, I wondered?

I had a meager income selling my purses and a few things on ebay, but I knew it wouldn’t be enough. Here is the amazing part. From that moment in the car, when I felt that peace come over me like a blanket, through Steve’s recovery, I never worried. This is not normal behavior for me. I know it was God’s presence reassuring me that he would care for me when Steve could not.

Many days I would look at our circumstances and say to myself, “Today, the bills are paid, the children are healthy and Steve is alive. That is enough. Tomorrow is another day and it’s in God’s hands.” I took it one day at a time, some days, one hour at a time.

So many dear friends and family held us up through that time, with their prayers, encouragement, presence and financial support. We could never repay them all for being there for us at such a critical time.

Steve recovered quickly and was soon feeling better than he had in years. We had survived another major crisis. Certainly now we would get a break.  We enjoyed a period of relative health and prosperity where we breathed a little easier, but for me personally, the worst was yet to come...


" There is no room in love for fear. Well-formed love banishes fear. Since fear is crippling, a fearful life—fear of death, fear of judgment—is one not yet fully formed in love."  ^{1 John 4:18 (MSG)}

The Gift of Pain - Chapter 1

We cannot escape pain. It is a fact of life as certain as death and taxes. We may avoid it for a while. We may deny it for a period. But we cannot escape it forever.

My first experiences with pain were mild. I stubbed my toes, scraped my knees and fell off my bike, like every other child, my own included.  But usually, a soothing word, a caress and a band-aid and the injury was quickly forgotten. Okay, I just lied there. The truth is, I would scream bloody murder for an hour and a half and then I would get over it!  (So that's where my kids get it from.)

I had occasional trips to the emergency room for stitches and the typical growing pains of youth. As an adult, I seemed to gain more grace but, on occasion, would twist an ankle or bruise a shin. I gave birth to three beautiful children and experienced all the sickness, pain and utter joy associated with childbirth.

All of these experiences with pain were eclipsed, however, in the past several years, as I discovered the unrelenting cruelty of sickness and suffering.

For some time now, I have been compelled to tell my story.  The facts are often ugly and grim. I questioned whether or not mine was a story that people would desire to read and if it was self-indulgent.

Recently, I had two specific incidents that prompted me to take the leap and bare a bit of my soul.  Two different friends, on separate occasions,  said, “You need to share what you have been through."  One friend knows a fair bit of my story, the other, very little. Their words have stuck in my mind like gum on the bottom of my shoe, and I can’t get them off.  So, I have decided to take a risk and let you into my private world of chronic pain, shattered dreams, renewed hope and joy. This story will take a while. It is still often hard to relive. There are tears in my eyes as I write this. But, as the Swedish Proverb says, “Shared joy is a double joy; shared sorrow is half a sorrow”.

This journey began approximately ten years ago. At that time, I was working full-time as the secretary of the Christian school where my two youngest children attended. Our oldest daughter was at the end of her high school years, looking ahead to college.

I had a particularly difficult labor with our youngest child and never felt like I really bounced back. At work, I was not as sharp as I once was, often distracted and overwhelmed.   I was told it was just the stress of parenting three children, working full-time and dealing with life.  However, one day my husband’s cousin made a remark that made me think there may be more to the way I was feeling.

Jon and I had worked in the same office a few years previous to this time and he commented to Steve, “Remember how sharp Karen used to be. She was type A and could multi-task better than anyone I knew."  Turning to me he said, “You’re just not the same anymore."

Now, I know that this sounds like an unusual thing for somebody to say and it really annoyed my husband. He felt that it was unkind and told Jon in no uncertain terms.  I, on the other hand, felt like there was finally somebody who acknowledged how I had been feeling for some time – dull, slow and just generally out of whack.

For months I had questioned Steve, my mom, my sister and friends, “Do you notice how different I am? I’m just not the same. Something is wrong. Do you see it?” One by one they had reassured me that I seemed normal and that I was probably just tired - not to worry.

I told the doctor how I was feeling and they ran some blood work and ordered an EKG, but everything appeared fine - "probably just hormones" (a doctor's favorite go-to line).

All that changed on Thanksgiving Day, 2001.  We had a great time at Grandma and Poppa’s house, ate too much turkey and were driving home, just over a mile away.  Steve had gone ahead with our oldest in one car and I was a few minutes behind with the youngest two in their car seats.  As I was driving down the hill from my parent’s house I had this strange feeling come over me.  I wasn’t sure what to do with the car.  It took me a few seconds to orient myself to where I was and it scared me.

I pulled over to the side of the road, my mind in an uproar.  “Mom, what are you doing? Why did we stop?” the kids questioned.  At first I couldn’t speak, but eventually told them that I wasn’t feeling well and needed to rest before we could go on.  In my mind I was thinking, “What is wrong with me? I can’t drive any further. Maybe my sister will come along soon and see me here.”

Several more minutes passed and nobody drove by.  I got my bearings and continued on home.  When I walked in the door, Steve could tell something had happened.  I looked at him and said, “I am not getting back in that car again until somebody tells me what is wrong. I’m going to the doctor tomorrow and I am staying there until I get some answers!”   I was truly terrified.

This was the beginning of my journey through sickness, pain and strengthened faith.  It is a journey that I am still traveling.  I don't know how to share it briefly, so I will continue to share my story over the next several weeks.  I earnestly pray that somehow, when you read it, you will be encouraged to persevere through your own journey, however painful that may be. My purpose in this is not to glorify myself or garner your pity, but to bring glory to the One who was, “despised and rejected by men, a man of sorrows, and familiar with suffering.” Isaiah 53:3 NIV

You will discover how I can truly say, I thank God for the "gift of pain".

Peace in the Chaos

I had something different planned for my entry today, but just received news that made me change directions.

Today, the house that my daughter LA lives in was broken into. The place was ransacked and they stole whatever they could get their hands on from everyone who lives there. My first response is sadness, for my friend and her daughter and for my own sweet girl who has lost personal items and a sense of security.

My second response is anger. I would LOVE to take matters in my own hands and hunt down whoever it was that felt they could take what does not belong to them. How dare they invade someone else's property and take what they worked so hard for!

There are also, I must confess some why's involved. Why, Lord, would you allow this to happen to these good people and especially to my girl. She is so excited about her new career, her upcoming wedding and all the future has in store and now this! I also know how very hard K works to provide a home for her daughter. This is just not right!

But I know that why's don't always get answered and certainly not right away. The past several years, dealing with chronic pain have taught me this. When we don't know why we must cling even closer to the One who does. There is no peace without Him - no security in things, only in trusting the Maker of all things.

So, I ask that you would pray for peace for these dear ones, that God would restore them tenfold and envelop them with His peace and security. I have learned that without it, life is chaos.

"I'm leaving you well and whole. That's my parting gift to you. Peace. I don't leave you the way you're used to being left—feeling abandoned, bereft. So don't be upset. Don't be distraught." John 14:27 The Message