Blessed

The year 2010 was lousy.  One more year at the end of a string of rotten years.  We were glad to wave goodbye and step into 2011. 

Well, so far 2011 is turning out to be a difficult year as well.  I won't call it rotten yet, because this year still has 9 months left to redeem itself.  Since this year began, my mom, Ashley and Steve have all had surgery and Rachel has been nursing a bad sprain.  It's only March, but I can safely say I have no desire to see the inside of a doctor's office or hospital ever again!

It's easy right now, to feel a wee bit sorry for us.  Nobody likes illness and pain affecting the people that they love.  It's exhausting and disheartening.  But every time I feel like I'm due for a full-blown pity party, I think of Japan, Libya, Syria, Afghanistan and the beautiful people around the world who live in situations beyond my imagination, clinging to a shred of hope.

I'm choosing to step away from the pity party and be reminded of my blessings.  Here are just a few, in no particular order.

• I can worship God with fellow believers without fear of reprisal.

• Sam always knows how to make me laugh.

• I was raised in a loving, godly home.

• I have a home that is safe, warm and whole.  

• Ashley will be marrying Daniel, the love of her life, in 14 weeks. 

• I have a car that gets me where I need to go.

• I am not dealing with the threat of radiation.

• I have an incredible, supportive network of friends and family.

• Rachel plays the piano every day, filling our home with worship music.

• I do not live in fear of violence.

• My daily commute to work is from the coffee maker in my kitchen to my computer.

• Steve and I will celebrate our 30th wedding anniversary this year.

• I don't worry about my children going hungry.

• We have health insurance and Steve received the surgery he so desperately needed.

• The sun is shining today and the jasmine is blooming.

I realize now that there is an unending list of things to be grateful for.  We have been blessed beyond measure and certainly beyond what we deserve.

I have a choice now, I can live snug and warm and secure without a thought for others, or think of ways that I can reach beyond me and extend blessing to those in need.  To be honest, I'm not always sure how to do this.  The needs seem so overwhelming that sometimes I'm left doing nothing. 

I don't want to be a nothing-doer but someone who is generous and compassionate.  I choose to start today.

If you feel like life is dumping on you, try this exercise and look beyond yourself.  Tell me, what are you grateful for today?  How do you share with those who are in need?

To-Do Lists

Last week I was real busy.  I finally got around to cleaning off the back patio.  It was piled with junk - boxes, old furniture, dried leaves, etc.  I discarded the junk, swept it clean and stacked what was remaining. 

Next, I tackled my garage.  Same thing in there - got rid of some trash, organized what was left (still a lot of stuff, I'm afraid) and swept the floor clean.

I went through the house and dealt with a lot of small DIY projects that I've been putting off for a while.  You know the ones - switchplate covers that never got back on,  wobbly screws in the bathroom hooks, even a couple buttons sewed on some clothes that were in a pile in the corner of my room.

I even tackled my son's room!  His bedroom got the once-over, more like the twice-over, that it's been needing for quite some time now.  Every Nerf bullet, LEGO piece, Star Wars figure and video game cable is in it's appropriate bin.

It was a productive week.  Of course, as in any household, the items on the to-do list seem to grow faster than I can check them off, but overall, I was pretty satisfied with what I accomplished.  Except for one small thing...

My busyness has been avoidance.  I've been keeping myself busy to avoid what I really felt I should be doing.

Have you ever done this before, or is it just me? 

Every day, when I wake up, I have this nagging feeling (conscience?) of what I really should be dealing with,  what I really ought to be doing.  The only way to really quiet my conscience is to get busy.  So... my house got cleaned in the process. 

I've been arguing with myself that my cleaning frenzy is way better than drowning that voice with a bottle of whiskey, a dozen donuts or just being plain old lazy - after all, look at what I accomplished.  I'm getting things done (picture a pat-on-the-back here)!

So, day after day, I have been pushing my 'should-do' list further and further back in my mind and replacing it with the trivial 'to-dos'.  Every time I accomplished something else, or I would hear someone say,  "The house looks great!" that little voice would get a bit quieter.

Until today.

Tonight is my ladies book club night and we're ready Crazy Love by Francis Chan.  So far the book has been good and I've enjoyed it, but today I read Chapter 4.  It's a powerful chapter entitled "Profile of the Lukewarm".  The whole chapter is challenging but one small sentence hit me like a brick.

"Anyone, then, who knows the good he ought to do and doesn't do it, sins"
James 4:17

This is how it reads in the New International Version,

"If anyone, then, knows the good they ought to do and doesn’t do it, it is sin for them."

 Ow!

I'm still reeling.  I'm sure there is a large lump forming right between my eyes where that brick hit.  This is how that verse reads in Karen's Abridged Version (KAV), "If Karen knows the good she should do and doesn't do it,  it is sin for Karen." 

This has nothing to do with you or anyone else.  I can't rank myself on a scale of goodness and feel proud of how good I am 'compared to' anyone else.  I know what I should be doing.  I'm not doing it.  It is sin for me.

I really wish I hadn't read Chapter 4 - of Crazy Love or of James.  They both annoyed me and hurt my feelings at first.  They made me uncomfortable and made me stop and think.  Arrrggh!  I'm too busy to be uncomfortable or to be thinking this hard!

I still have a dishwasher to unload and reload, clothes to wash, toilets to clean, weeds to pull...you get the picture.

But, I did read them both.  So,  now I have a choice.  I can continue to ignore "the good I ought to do" or get cracking and start living the life I am meant to live.

This is the weird part - there are days that "the good I ought to do" is cleaning toilets and doing laundry.  It is a vital part of my life and crucial to keeping this family running.  But there are days when those things are fillers, days that I need to let the dishes sit in the sink, or ignore the laundry and attend to those things that are more important. 

Today, I felt like this post was on my list of things I should be doing.  It is hard being vulnerable and revealing myself and my flaws on a regular basis but today I'm getting to the nitty-gritty.  Most of the things on my critical 'should-do' list are personal, between me and God. 

I know he loves me in spite of my sin, but I want to show him how much I love him by obeying him and listening to his voice, not ignoring it and filling my days with my own agenda.  So, this post is dedicated to the One I love.

"Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind.' This is the first and greatest commandment."
(Matt. 22:37-38)

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.

Holiday Greetings

From my family to yours, Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!

It has been a privilege sharing my life and faith with you over the past several months.

I pray that this holiday season your heart will be filled with the peace that only Christ can bring and the joy of knowing Him personally.

For to us a child is born,
   to us a son is given,
   and the government will be on his shoulders.
And he will be called
   Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God,
   Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace. 

Isaiah 9:6 NIV

Bah! Humbug!

"Only 40 more days until Christmas!"

"Ugh!"

"Mom, why don't you like Christmas?"

I guess "Ugh" isn't quite "Bah, Humbug!", but to my daughter's ears it did make me sound a bit like Scrooge...okay, a lot like Scrooge.

I love Christmas.

I do.  I just don't understand why we start the countdown before we've even had Thanksgiving!

I love the decorations

• the sparkling lights and the festive colors.  
• driving through the neighborhoods to check out the displays
• picking out the perfect tree
• filling the house with lights and decorations
• the Boat Parade in Newport Harbor.  

Everything is transformed for this wonderful season.

I love the gifts - picking out something special for the people I love and anticipating the look of delight when they open the brightly wrapped package.

Oh yeah, getting gifts too!  That part is great!  I always seem to forget that I will be at the receiving end as well.

I love the food.  I love the food.  Oops, I wrote that twice.

You know what I mean.  All those scrumptious holiday treats that we eat only at this time of year.  Then we ask, "Why don't we make this the rest of the year?" only to realize that if we did, we would weigh approximately the same as a baby hippo (or a mama hippo.)

There are the delicious baked goods for starters (dessert first.)  In my family the list here is long.

Dessert is very important.  Each family event is rated by how many desserts are available. 

One or two, that's for amateurs!

At the top of the list is Grandma's pulla, otherwise known as Finnish coffee bread.  It is the most amazing sweet bread, made in a braided loaf, with a hint of cardamom - off the hook!

All other baking is secondary to the bread.  We must have the bread.  My sister has become an expert at the bread-baking also, so dozens of loaves are baked and consumed over the holidays.  Just thinking about it now is making me a little light-headed.

But, of course, the bread isn't it.  There's

• caramel corn (Kathy's favorite)
• shortbread (Steve's favorite)
• sugar cookies (Sam's)
• chocolate fudge
• Nanaimo bars (an overall fav)
• peppermint bark

• chocolate covered pretzels
• Chinese chews (Rachel's favorite)
• pumpkin pie
• and the must-have jam-jams (Poppa's contribution to the holidays)

just to name a small portion of the required holiday baking.

We eat real food too, not just dessert.  You know, turkey, potatoes, carrots, yams, green beans, stuffing... I could go on, but I think you get the point.

So...what's not to love about Christmas?

It's so much work!

The decorations are beautiful but they don't just fly out of the boxes and land on the tree and around the house by themselves.  Somebody has to put them up.

The gifts are wonderful, but (don't spread the word on this), little elves do not magically appear with them gift-wrapped under the tree.

The food is marvelous, and I know you can buy it pre-made in the store, but in our family, that just doesn't cut it!

So...when I see Christmas looming on the horizon, I get tired before I've even started.  I just see long 'to-do' lists looming and the days shrinking away while I seem to spin my wheels getting very little accomplished.  I want to relax and enjoy the moment, but 'the moment' never seems to come.

Oh yeah, I forgot one thing.  One little thing.  One major little thing.

A baby.

Born in a manger.

I know this is the only way to keep my sanity during the holidays.  I have to keep reminding myself what Christmas is really about - what the fuss and bother really mean to a believer, to one who is a follower of the Christ child born in a manger, over 2000 years ago.

If we had no gifts (now my kids are starting to panic), if the decorations never came out of the boxes, if the celebrations and parties never materialized and the baking never took place, Christmas would still be Christmas.

All of these are trappings and ornamentation - trappings that pull me away from the focus of the season - to celebrate the birth of my Savior.

For a child is born to us,
      a son is given to us.
   The government will rest on his shoulders.
      And he will be called:
   Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God,
      Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.
   His government and its peace
      will never end.
   He will rule with fairness and justice 
      from the throne of his ancestor David
      for all eternity.
Isaiah 9:6-7 (NLT)

Is God A Democrat?

Or a Republican?

That was the question our son asked on Election Day, this year.

It's no wonder he would ask.  With all the rhetoric and the dispersions being cast back and forth, it makes one wonder where God really is in this big, beautiful mess we call democracy.

We've removed God from our schools, but he's everywhere in the political process.  Politicians love to throw in little bits of Scripture or "God bless America"'s when they feel it's to their political advantage.

So, where does that leave God?  Democrat or Republican?

As we have been studying the names of God in our weekly Bible study, the name Melek Ha-Goyim "The King of the Nations" was introduced.  He is God over all nations.  All powers, authorities, and rulers bow to him.  He answers to nobody.

"...and human hands can’t serve his needs—for he has no needs. He himself gives life and breath to everything, and he satisfies every need.  From one man he created all the nations throughout the whole earth. He decided beforehand when they should rise and fall, and he determined their boundaries.  His purpose was for the nations to seek after God and perhaps feel their way toward him and find him—though he is not far from any one of us."  Acts 17:25-27

However you feel about the outcome of the elections - whether you are elated or disgusted,  let us be reminded that we can't place our total faith in any political party.  They can and will disappoint us.  While it's imperative to keep doing our part keeping the wheels of democracy moving, we cannot forget the "purpose of the nations" in our individual lives.

Seek after God.  Feel your way toward him.  Find him.  He is not far from any one of us.

Republican or Democrat.

Regrets

This past week I reconnected with an old friend. 

In a hospital room.

I haven't seen her in years.  I've thought about her.  Wondered how she was doing, even called and left a message but didn't follow through. 

I've been busy.

I have a family, a business, a blog, a home.  I have been battling with my own illness.  Then there's all the kid's sports activities.  I have my jewelry making, which I never have time for, my friends that do respond to my phone calls and emails, church, bible study...you get the idea.  I'm busy.  My life is full. 

When my friend didn't respond, time slipped by and I just assumed she was busy like I was.  She had a successful career, a new marriage, her own kids to deal with, and I figured she didn't have time for me.

I was wrong.

When I heard she was sick and in the hospital, I rushed to visit her, and discovered that the past several years have been very different for her than what I had imagined.  She has been suffering and I never knew.

I can't get this out of my mind.

I regret the times when she was alone when I could have been there to hold her hand.  The times when she was in pain when I could have offered a shoulder to cry on.  The prayers I could have prayed on her behalf.

I know what it feels like to be where she has been - lying in bed, in pain, feeling so alone and wondering if anyone remembers you or cares about you.  With every day that passes without a phone call or a visit, you become more convinced that you have been forgotten.

I can't go back in time and redo the past.  I can't live in regret.  I'm letting go and moving forward. 

It was so sweet visiting my dear friend.  She is dealing with her illness with a grace that astounds me.  I look forward to reconnecting more and more and pouring back into her life.

I am blessed with friends that fill my life with love, laughter, encouragement and strength.  I pray I am able to return a small portion of this back into their lives.

Real wisdom, God's wisdom, begins with a holy life and is characterized by getting along with others. It is gentle and reasonable, overflowing with mercy and blessings, not hot one day and cold the next, not two-faced. You can develop a healthy, robust community that lives right with God and enjoy its results only if you do the hard work of getting along with each other, treating each other with dignity and honor. 
James 3:17-18 (MSG)

Autumn Reverie

Oh, Fall!  I miss you.

I know, it actually is fall here in Orange County.  The weather is even trying to cooperate, with cooler, overcast days and some rainfall thrown in for good measure, but it's just a fake California version of what fall should really be.  It's missing all the bells and whistles - that certain 'something'.  I must admit, even though I love living in southern California, every year, right around this time, I get nostalgic and think back on those beautiful fall days we enjoyed when we lived in Canada.

I guess it's a bit harder this year because Steve got a chance to go back and visit and he was bragging on the phone about how beautiful it is - how perfect the weather is, how spectacular the leaves are, how crisp the air is - yaddah, yaddah, yaddah!  Sure Steve, rub it in.

That, and the fact that he's spending time with my his family, who I am dying to see.  I promise you, I'm happy for him, really....no, really!

Anyway, back to fall.  I think, next to summer it's my favorite season.  It may even be tied for first place.  If we could just have fall, then summer, then fall, then summer, that would be perfect!

Winter - forget it!  You can have the snow, the cold, the slush, the gray.  I've lived most of my life without white Christmases and I don't dream about them.  I know, there are some hardy souls who genuinely love winter, but most of you who live in colder climes will agree, after one snowfall (two at most), that white stuff loses its charm.

Spring - we get flowers year-round - lots of flowers.  They are beautiful and I love them, but I think you have to survive the muck and slush of winter to really appreciate spring.

Summer - we invented that in California.  I love it and we get plenty of it.

Fall - sigh!  This is what I think back on when I start reminiscing.

This is my firstborn with her dog Fred.  She is now an adult woman, engaged to be married, but when she was a little girl, we lived in Canada.  Back then we only had one child - she was it.

We lived in the city but Steve's parents had a beautiful home on a large piece of property out in the country (that first picture is the lane leading up to their house).  We loved going out there on weekends, especially in the fall.  I would cut big branches of fall leaves and bring them back to the city to decorate our downtown apartment.

First, there are the autumn smells - the acrid smokey scent of fires burning in fireplaces, the musky earthy smell as the leaves pile up on the ground, not to mention the cinnamon aroma of apple pie baking in the oven.  There's that feeling in the air, that snap of cold that makes you pull your jacket closer and reach into the back of your closet for your favorite pair of boots.

Then, there are the sounds - the satisfying crunch of leaves under your feet as you stroll through the fallen leaves,  the swish of the rake as you gather them into a pile, and the squeal of laughter as the kids leap into the mounded piles of leaves.

But, most of all, it is the sights - the glorious sight of those leaves on the trees- crimson, orange, scarlet and yellow - a truly magnificent display.  It is awe-inspiring and breath-taking and I miss it!

Our ladies group is doing a wonderful study on the names of God called "Knowing God By Name" by Mary A. Kassian.  This past week, one of the names of God that we discussed was Yahweh Borey - Lord Creator.  We talked about the fact that God created this incredible world for his pleasure and for ours.  So often we take for granted the beauty and the majesty of the world around us.  It's just there, the sky, the trees, the ocean, the mountains.

We were challenged to really take time to pause and look around, to develop that sense of awe and wonder.  That a God so powerful would take the time to create so much beauty for us to enjoy, is an incredible thought.  That is how much he loves us.  I don't know about you, but I am determined to appreciate his gifts more, and if you are blessed with those spectacular fall leaves, send pictures!

"I don't think the way you think.
   The way you work isn't the way I work.
         God's Decree.
For as the sky soars high above earth,
   so the way I work surpasses the way you work,
   and the way I think is beyond the way you think.
Just as rain and snow descend from the skies
   and don't go back until they've watered the earth,
Doing their work of making things grow and blossom,
   producing seed for farmers and food for the hungry,
So will the words that come out of my mouth
   not come back empty-handed.
They'll do the work I sent them to do,
   they'll complete the assignment I gave them.
So you'll go out in joy,
   you'll be led into a whole and complete life.
The mountains and hills will lead the parade,
   bursting with song.
All the trees of the forest will join the procession,
   exuberant with applause.
No more thistles, but giant sequoias,
   no more thornbushes, but stately pines—
Monuments to me, to God,
   living and lasting evidence of God." 
 ^{Isaiah 55:8-11 (MSG)}

God Grant Me Wisdom

"Science is organized knowledge.  Wisdom is organized life." 
 Immanuel Kant

At our church, Convergence, we have embarked on a Sunday study of the book of James.  I love this little book.  It is a  treasure tucked near the end of the Bible and is one of my favorites.  It's jam-packed with kernels of truth and every time I read it I discover something new.

Along with the Sunday messages, our mid-week small groups are discussing this great book.  Last night we discussed this passage from the first chapter of James.

"If any of you lacks wisdom, he should ask God, who gives generously to all without finding fault, and it will be given to him.  But when he asks, he must believe and not doubt, because he who doubts it like a wave of the sea, blown and tossed by the wind."

I can think of few things more precious than wisdom.

Solomon, the great king of the Israelites, had pleased the Lord so greatly that the Lord appeared to him in a dream and offered him whatever he desired.  Solomon knew the value of wisdom.  It was the one thing he asked for.  To this day we speak of the "wisdom of Solomon."

Wisdom should not be confused with knowledge.  Many intelligent and brilliant people are greatly lacking in wisdom and their lives reflect that.  I don't think wisdom is as simple as common sense.  I beg to differ with Immanuel Kant.  It's more than organized life.  It's deeper than that.  I like these definitions, from YourDictionary.com

- the quality of being wise; power of judging rightly and following the soundest course of action, based on knowledge, experience, understanding, etc.; good judgment; sagacity

- the ability to discern or judge what is true, right, or lasting; insight.

I especially like the second definition.  I think this is closest to what James is talking about.  

God's promise in this verse is so beautiful.  He has promised that when we ask for wisdom, he will

-"give generously" not in little miserly portions, but abundantly
- "to all"  that includes me and you  
- "without finding fault" he doesn't look at my past record - wow! 

There is just one caveat to this promise.  I like the way The Message words this.

"Ask boldly, believingly, without a second thought.  People who "worry their prayers" are like wind-whipped waves.  Don't think you're going to get anything from the Master that way, adrift at sea, keeping all your options open."
James 1: 6-8 (MSG)

At first blush that seems simple, but upon closer examination I realize I pray that way all the time.  I "worry my prayers."  I am a "wind-whipped wave."  Yikes!

I need God's wisdom.  Without it life is just too much.  Marriage, children, work, finances, relationships, etc.   It is all too much for me to figure out.

I need to make a change from a "wind-whipped wave" to a bold believer, asking for wisdom and believing I will receive it.  My heavenly Father has promised he will grant it.  He is Someone on whom I can depend.


Let us then approach the throne of grace with confidence, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help us in our time of need.
Hebrews 4:16

A Broken Toe in the Body of Christ

Ow!  I have busted my toe.  Again.

I have a habit of breaking toes.  I seriously can't count how many toes I've broken, but I figure by now I've made it through all ten digits and I'm working my way through them again.  And that other spot on my foot, that would be where a shard of glass punctured my foot.

Don't ask.

I don't know why I have this particular predilection for toe-breaking.  Other people seem to make it through life without ever breaking a single toe.  My feet aren't that enormous, pretty average for someone my height.

I think there are two things that are at the core of the issue.  The first one is the fact that I rarely wear shoes.  The temperate weather here in Orange County makes it tempting to wander around in sandals and at home, I tend to kick them off and walk around in bare feet.  The more I read about my health, especially for people who suffer from chronic pain, the more I realize I have to put shoes back on my feet.  The problem is, I've been out of the shoe habit for so many years, it's really hard to get back into it.

The second issue, and I'm sure the real reason why I keep busting my toes, is that I'm a klutz.  There's really no other reasonable explanation.  Instead of walking around furniture I am constantly testing my super-human abilities to walk through solid objects, but physics keep getting in the way.

Newton's first law of physics states that "Every object (my foot) persists in its state of rest or uniform motion in a straight line unless it is compelled to change that state by forces (a chair) impressed on it."  This and the other laws of physics were discovered in 1687.  I'm pretty sure they were working before Newton, and are firmly set in the universe, yet I have been trying to defy them ever since!

So what does my toe-breaking have to do with the body of Christ?  Paul actually spoke about this very thing in his first letter to the church in Corinth.  Well, he didn't talk about my broken toe or Orange County or Newton and his laws of physics or the fact that I'm a klutz, but he did talk about the body and, well... just read it.

A body isn't just a single part blown up into something huge. It's all the different-but-similar parts arranged and functioning together. If Foot said, "I'm not elegant like Hand, embellished with rings; I guess I don't belong to this body," would that make it so? If Ear said, "I'm not beautiful like Eye, limpid and expressive; I don't deserve a place on the head," would you want to remove it from the body? If the body was all eye, how could it hear? If all ear, how could it smell? As it is, we see that God has carefully placed each part of the body right where he wanted it. 

But I also want you to think about how this keeps your significance from getting blown up into self-importance. For no matter how significant you are, it is only because of what you are a part of. An enormous eye or a gigantic hand wouldn't be a body, but a monster. 

What we have is one body with many parts, each its proper size and in its proper place. No part is important on its own. Can you imagine Eye telling Hand, "Get lost; I don't need you"? Or, Head telling Foot, "You're fired; your job has been phased out"? As a matter of fact, in practice it works the other way—the "lower" the part, the more basic, and therefore necessary. 

You can live without an eye, for instance, but not without a stomach. When it's a part of your own body you are concerned with, it makes no difference whether the part is visible or clothed, higher or lower. You give it dignity and honor just as it is, without comparisons. If anything, you have more concern for the lower parts than the higher. If you had to choose, wouldn't you prefer good digestion to full-bodied hair? 

The way God designed our bodies is a model for understanding our lives together as a church: every part dependent on every other part, the parts we mention and the parts we don't, the parts we see and the parts we don't. If one part hurts, every other part is involved in the hurt, and in the healing. If one part flourishes, every other part enters into the exuberance. 

You are Christ's body—that's who you are! You must never forget this. Only as you accept your part of that body does your "part" mean anything.
1 Corinthians 12:14-27 (The Message)

I have to admit, when I read the part about choosing between good digestion and full-bodied hair, I hesitated.  I didn't leap to good digestion.  I like my hair.  I've always had good hair.  I admit it.  I'm vain.  But then, I remembered what it was like when I was really sick and I was consuming vast quantities of pain medications every day.  I will spare you the details, but let me tell you this,  I did not care a whit about my hair, but I was begging the doctor to do something about my gut.

All of this brings me back to my toe.  So little and insignificant, after all, it's my baby toe.  But, it is a gripping toe and an important little toe.  When it is broken I feel it every time I stand up, every time I walk or move.  It is really making it's presence known.

Sometimes I feel like I'm the broken toe in the body of Christ, or maybe the spleen or tibia.  I never feel like I'm the hand or the head or the heart.  Just some minor part that you don't think about until it's broken or hurting.  But, like Paul said, "it is only because of what you are a part of".  Somehow, the Creator makes all these disparate parts work when we submit our parts to him.  And when a part is hurting, broken and wounded, the rest of the body should feel it and tend to it.

I have to accept my part as the body of Christ and not look at it as insignificant.  Every part is important.  I also need to tend to the other parts when I see that they are hurting or wounded.  "If one part hurts, every other part is involved in the hurt and in the healing."

The next time you look at your little toe, remember, you weren't meant to do this on your own.  We are all connected, one part as important as the other.

And I promise, no more pictures of my feet!

God Bless This Mess!

Who are these guys and what are they doing with this china cabinet?

Well, the young man in the red t-shirt is my nephew Jacob and the unseen man on the other end is Josh.  These strong men are moving my full china cabinet from my front room to my kitchen.  That hutch is filled with crystal, silver and china and they picked it up, walked up a step around a corner and into the kitchen, without so much as rattling a dish.  They are my heroes!

Actually, they are just two of a team of heroes that descended upon our house this past Saturday.

It all began a few weeks ago, over iced tea with some friends.  I was bemoaning the state of our front room, formerly our living room, now functioning as our home office.  It had become completely disorganized and was an impossible space to work in on a daily basis, made worse by the fact that our precious pup had ruined the carpet in there.  No amount of carpet cleaning, Febreze or candle burning could mask the odor. 

This is a before shot of the room as we attempted to assess the situation.  Trust me, this picture does not show the mountain of madness lurking behind the camera.  We evaluated the amount of storage (virtually none) and the overabundance of desks (four - why, I'm not sure).  A plan of attack was set for September 18 and last Saturday, the crowd descended on our home.

Following the furniture removal, the next item on the agenda was carpet removal.  This was the moment I had been waiting for.  That carpet was rolled up and out the door in no time at all.  What a relief!  My dear friends had volunteered themselves and their husbands for a Saturday work day at the Rutledge home.  I don't know what their husbands said when they were first volunteered, but they showed up Saturday with work gloves, shop vacs, tools and smiles.

Time for primer. 

I had a border running around the perimeter of the room that I had written with Sharpie.  I love the sentiment, "faith, hope, love", but I'm done with the script border and the color, which I loved when I painted years ago, seems muddy and dark to me now.  On to cleaner and brighter days!

I am loving it more already, and this is just the primer!  These guys got two coats of primer on the walls in no time flat!  Now I have to head to the store and choose just the perfect wall color.

This little front hall almost broke us.  Even though it is a fraction of the size of the living room, it was wallpapered by 'yours truly' with sheet music.  It took every bit of wetting, scraping, clawing, sanding and sheer grit and determination to remove that paper off the wall. 

These three are smiling on the outside, but on the inside they're thinking, "why didn't she just leave the wallpaper alone?"  Are those weapons they're holding?

I have to give a special thanks to my daughter Rachel.  None of this would have been possible without the 'Child Whisperer'.  She allowed moms and dads to work away while her adoring fans followed her around for the day.  Rachel, you rock!

Within a few hours the team cleared the furniture from the room, removed the carpet, gave the room two coats of paint and stripped the wallpaper from the front hall.  I can't even imagine how long it would have taken Steve and I to manage all of that on our own.

Our front room isn't done yet, but it is well on the way, thanks to our fearless volunteers.  We will continue to post pictures, as work progresses.

And...as if the work on the room wasn't enough, this bed has been hanging out on my back porch for months, badly in need of sanding and a coat of paint. 

 Here is the beautiful finished product, ready for Rachel's room.

At our church, we talk a lot about living a life of community and what that really is.

Well, I've shown you what it can be.  It can be getting dirty.  It can be holding a paint brush or a hammer.  It can be showing up for each other.  It can be meeting practical needs.  It can be eating together, laughing together, hanging out together.

I have one last picture to show you.  It's a picture of angels.  I took it at my house last Saturday.

If you've gotten anything at all out of following Christ, if his love has made any difference in your life, if being in a community of the Spirit means anything to you, if you have a heart, if you care— then do me a favor: Agree with each other, love each other, be deep-spirited friends. Don't push your way to the front; don't sweet-talk your way to the top. Put yourself aside, and help others get ahead. Don't be obsessed with getting your own advantage. Forget yourselves long enough to lend a helping hand.
Philippians 2:1-4 (MSG)

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

LIFE Stinks

I don't like to lose.  Just ask my husband, or for that matter, just ask my son.  Okay, just take my word for it.

Yesterday we decided to play a mild-mannered friendly little board game - The Game of Life.  Remember that one?  Well, this is an updated electronic version, with Visa cards and everything.  You get your own personal credit card and every time your turn comes around, you place it in the electronic LIFEpod.  It automatically calculates your salary and LIFE points, based on spaces you land on and cards you pick.

Well, today, (and just about every other time we play) Sam ruled.  I was conservative, picked a decent career, got a degree, and sucked swamp water by the end of the game.  Seemed like every card I picked up was something about dancing.  Let's just say this...dancing and writing don't pay!

Sam picked a career in sports...yes, sports and ended up with a $2,000,000 annual salary and $9,196,000 cash.  He was laughing at, no...

...more like mocking his mother by the end.  Steve was somewhere in between.  What really killed Steve was his five babies. He was a baby-making machine!  Those babies cost him a lot of money and didn't give him enough LIFE  points to make up the difference.

I'm trying not to be a sore loser, but I've lived over 40 years (not saying how many years over,), have a lot of life experience and am relatively intelligent.  Sam, on the other hand, is twelve!  What is a twelve-year-old going to do with a three million dollar salary and a mansion?  It's just not fair.  LIFE stinks.

This was just a game, and I'm over it now getting over it now, but the fact of the matter is ...

sometimes real life stinks too.  This past week will not go down in the annals of history as "the best week ever" for me.  I was so overwhelmed that I didn't know what to write.  I was hurting, confused and struggling to make sense of it all.  I realize I'm not going to "Find a winning lottery ticket on the street +$100,000" or "Be chosen as the cover model for my favorite magazine +$500,000", but I would like to catch a break now and then.

Although the week had a lousy start, something happened on the weekend that changed my perspective.  No, it wasn't playing a game with my guys, or even the fun birthday party at the beach.  The thing that changed my perspective was this...God spoke to me.  Now, before you think, "she's really lost it - she's hearing voices!", hear me out.

I chose to worship with other believers on Sunday.  I really just wanted to stay at home, curl up with a book and a pot of coffee and hibernate.  It's hard to put on that fake plastic smile, shake hands and play the role of "good Christian", when I feel like I'm anything but "good" and I have no answers. 

Here is where that beautiful, mysterious thing called "faith" becomes real and tangible.  I cannot base my relationships (with family, friends, the church or God), upon how I am feeling or what it is that I want to do.  So, I chose community over isolation and found God there and heard His voice.

I heard it in the warm hellos from the friends that greeted me.  I heard it in the sweet words of encouragement from my dear friend Deborah.  I heard it in the beautiful worship music that spoke healing to my heart.  But most of all, I heard it in the message that my pastor gave...just for me.  I know there were a lot of other people in that room.  Some of them may have even had the mistaken notion that the message was for them.

When my pastor said the words, "He hears our heart cry, so go ahead and cry", he meant me.  When he read the words in Jeremiah 31:3, he was reading them for me.  "God told them, "I've never quit loving you and never will.  Expect love, love, and more love!"".  

Yes!  God loves me, cares about me and wants to spend time with me!  What an incredible, beautiful thought.  When I'm tired, cranky, mean, hurting, happy, loving...whatever state of mind I may be in.  I can choose to accept his love, or choose to reject it.  Today, I am choosing God's love for me,  and passing it along to you.  Accept it as the gift that it is and, in turn, share it with someone else!

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.