The Art of Tug of War

 

I am learning the art of tug of war. For two years, I have battled on both sides of the rope. On one side is acceptance of my lot. John Newton once wrote, "Everything is needful that He sends; nothing can be needful that He withholds." For reasons known only to Him, the Lord deems my trial needful. I do not understand, but I trust the heart that bled for me. On the other side of the rope is the full collection of my efforts to be well, which are many and varied. I never stop trying. I don't feel allowed. As much as God wants me to gratefully accept what He has justly and righteously given, He also wants me to want to be well. The only surrender I am permitted is to His plan for my life, not to this illness. It's an exhausting game, but I hold my grip for the grip of Sufficient Grace on me.

After numerous dead ends, setbacks, and advancements on one front as I lost ground on another, I am thrilled to report I am finally, undeniably better.

• My reactions are not as severe as they once were. This time last year, I was going into anaphylactic shock 1-3 times per week caused by an assortment of triggers. As I write this, I cannot recall the last time I "shocked." I still experience chest tightness, a barking cough, mental confusion and an overwhelming drunken sensation during acute episodes, but these symptoms are not life threatening. We know how to deal with them. And thankfully, I am no longer terrifying my family on a regular basis. I continue to react to a frustrating number of things most people would never consider to be unsafe, but the receding strength of my reactions gives me hope that one day I may live a life with fewer walls.

•  I have more energy. I continue to experience fatigue, but it feels more manageable now. I don't think it's easier just because I'm used to it. I don't think anyone ever gets used to feeling like standing is the healthy person's equivalent to a half marathon. I just understand it better and can anticipate it with more accuracy, which makes it livable.

• For the most part, my pain remains manageable. I have good days and not so good days. I can't do everything I want to do, but I can do most of it without pain taking me over.

• During my check up with Dr. Yakaboski this week, my thyroid, adrenal and liver function all showed improvement! Praise the Lord!

Truly, God has done this. He has heard and honored our prayers. His hand has been so evident, His direction perfectly clear. He has given my doctor wisdom concerning my needs. He has sent people into my life to offer me a helping hand. He has given me the strength and resolve to press on each step of the way. Thank you for "helping together in prayer for us, that thanks may be given by many persons on [my] behalf for the gift granted to [me] through many" (2 Corinthians 1:11). Please don't stop praying!

I want you to know where your prayers have led my family and me. So in the spirit of full disclosure, I will share a few key elements which have helped me to heal:

• Let's get this one out of the way: Daily (and sometimes twice daily) coffee enemas. TMI, I know. Whatever. Let's get over it together, shall we? They have been a huge help in reducing my histamine burden and toxic load. My entire body feels instantly better afterward, especially during acute episodes. Coffee enemas are a key aspect of natural cancer treatment per recommendation of The Gerson Institute. You can read an article about it here. My friend Caroline (aka Gutsy) also has an informative post about coffee enemas if you are curious about the method to my madness. 

• Stress management. We all know that stress is bad for us, a fact which is doubly true for people with chronic illness. Stress is an actual trigger for mast cell activation disease patients, and can cause anaphylaxsis all by its lonesome. I have been forced to learn to manage my stress. I realize that not everyone can live how I live. Some people work 9 to 5 jobs or are full-time students, some mothers have 8 children and some people have zero familial or community support. Nevertheless, I think everyone can afford to adopt at least one of the following principles:  

•  Prioritize your life by what must be done today, what should be done today, and what can wait until tomorrow. Guard your "spoons" so you can do the things which matter most. 
•  Have a plan, but hold it loosely. This helps you to balance rising above your disease and giving yourself permission to be sick. Frustration about your illness only adds to your stress load. Believe me. Holding your plans loosely also gives the Holy Spirit an opportunity to shape your day as He sees fit. His plans are always better than yours. Living life at the ready for Him to sweep through and involve you in something eternal is the most adventurous and fun way to live!
• If you are able to get out of the home, limit yourself to one event for the day. No more. If you work or go to school, that is your one outside event for the day.
• If you are running behind on dinner or kids are whining or you feel the pressure of a million things left undone, STOP, BREATHE DEEPLY, AND PRAY. God is eager and able to give you the grace you need to complete the tasks of the day. Running about all frantic and flustered helps no one, least of all you.
• Smile, laugh, sing and dance as often as you can. Especially if you don't feel like it. Force feed yourself with happiness.
• Spend time outdoors. Fresh air and sunshine are good for all the bits that make you you.
• Reserve time every day to do something creative or enjoyable. I learned this one from my Jenny. She was good at knowing what was good for people.
• Take mornings slowly as often as you can. Sleep in whenever possible.
• Limit toxic and difficult relationships. Many people would advise you to nix these relationships altogether, which is great advice in very particular situations. But I often find it is neither practical nor biblical to completely sever all ties with the unlovables in our lives. Many of these relationships cannot be escaped for one reason or another, and Jesus calls us to love the difficult ones because He does. But create boundaries. Boundaries are a form of love. No one should be allowed to have a free go at you whenever they please. It's not good for you or for them.
• Deep breathing and meditation. I recommend specific meditations such as memorized scripture and reflections upon God's character, His blessings, and His history of faithfulness with you. Read and ponder His promises in the Bible. These good, wholesome thoughts nourish and invigorate the soul, which is what stress management is all about.
• Count your blessings. Keep a gratitude journal. Anger and bitterness (stressors) cannot find entry into a thankful heart.

• Daily detox baths. I take a 30-45 minute bath every day using 2 small scoops of magnesium crystals and sometimes add either 2-3 cups of organic apple cider vinegar or 1 cup of bentonite clay.

•  Regular exercise. I have experienced health slumps which have caused brief lapses in the discipline, but if I can at all, I do--usually 4 or 5 days per week. I like a mixture of low impact cardio and yoga. Usually, I use the Wii Fit board as a step, and walk up and down while I watch something on Netflix. Sometimes, I do a few minutes of light rebounding sitting on the side of my bed. I try to do at least a little yoga at the end of every workout. Yoga is my favorite. I like it because it's challenging without being harmful or dangerous for my joints, and it makes me feel oh so good.

• Twice monthly lymphatic drainage treatments at Dr. Yakaboski's office. My frequent reactions cause my lymph nodes to swell painfully. These treatments give me welcome relief from discomfort and healing support for my body. During the treatment, Dr. Yakaboski also performs acupressure work to balance my emotions using a technique called B.E.S.T. A particular application of this technique, which takes the body out of "fight or flight" mode, has proven to be life saving for me during anaphylactic shock. I have purchased the instructional DVDs so my family can learn to perform it in case of fire ant or wasp stings this summer.
  

• Twice monthly chiropractic treatments. I firmly believe chiropractic care is essential for overall health. If the spine is not properly aligned, the body is not operating optimally. My chiropractor specializes in a program called Total Body Modification (TBM). TBM is another form of acupressure work (dealing primarily with the acupressure points on the spine) which can treat specific symptoms as well as support the operation of full body systems. I use the most basic TBM techniques for every acute allergic reaction at home, and have Dr. Frieden do the more complex, fancy-schmansy stuff in her office during my visits. Last October, I told her of my anaphylactic reactions to every little thing. She performed a specific TBM sequence, and since then I have had significantly fewer and less severe episodes of anaphylaxsis.

• Regular at-home BioSet and TBM treatments. These acupressure treatments slow or stop reactions very quickly. It's like pressing a "reset" button on my body. It's difficult to explain what it is or how it works, but I love my sister's take on it. After having a systemic reaction to Chinese food, she asked me to treat her even though she isn't much into my hippie ways. She came over to the house and after the treatment, she commented, "That is some weird crap, but I feel a lot better!"

•  Nutritional therapy as directed by nutritional therapist, Jennifer Nervo of the blog 20 Something Allergies. I discovered her blog in September 2012, and have followed her ever since. Her Baby Steps to Better Health series helped me a ton in the early days of my illness. For 18 months, she has assisted me as I have fumbled and bumbled about in an effort to get food safely into by body. She is now directing that effort. We've only just begun the nutritional protocol, but I have been implementing a few new-to-me concepts for several weeks now to which I have responded quite well. Jennifer understands how food works for the body, how the sensitive body responds to food, four day food rotation cycles for allergies, low histamine diets, and how to target autoimmune and mitochondrial disease with a specific nutritional approach. She knows each patient comes to her with individual needs, and she tailors her knowledge to fit those needs. I plan to post about my experience after I make it through the second rotation cycle early next week.

• Healthful miscellany: 
• Rest and refusal to feel guilty about rest
• Sunshine and fresh air as often as weather and health permit
• Humbly and gratefully accepting help from others
• Avoiding triggers (i.e. staying away from crowds and uncontrolled environments; avoiding foods which make me sick; letting others handle and wash new clothing; having Brandon screen all of my mail for scents and chemicals)
• Wearing a double mask any time I leave my home. It's social suicide, of course. It earns me lots of stares--some curious, some dubious--and very few hellos. Children are afraid of me. But it keeps me alive and mostly well. 

I will not lie to you. None of these things have come easily. It's been a slow, laborious process. Each component was implemented during a different season of my illness, and some of them have required a great deal of courage and trust. The battle for my health is costly in every way something can be costly, but it is not waged out of angst, bitterness or desperation. Mysteriously, the God of Paradoxes has created a paradox within me--I gratefully accept my disease as a good gift given out of God's righteous wisdom while I fight the disease like the assault from the Enemy it is.

It's a tug of war. Gratitude and desire. Contentment and fury. Surrender to the Lord and defiance of the Enemy. The rope must remain taut or I fall. It's exhausting and impossible apart from Christ. But through Him, I can do all things. He is the strength of my resolve, the power behind my work, and the song in my heart.

"Unless the Lord had been my help

my soul would soon have settled in silence.

If I say, 'My foot slips,' 

Your mercy, O Lord, will hold me up.

In the multitude of my anxieties within me,

Your comforts delight my soul."

-Psalm 94:17-19

Drowning and Swimming at the Same Time

"I didn't know--" She tried to swallow the overwhelming sadness caught in her throat. "Jonathan dies in battle." 

The world fell still and cold around me. I am David. And who is David without Jonathan?

11/3/12

 taken November 2012 at the Toledo Bend lake house

When our friendship began in August 2012, Jenny was studying the book of 1 Samuel with her women's Bible study group in Houston. I had known her for about two weeks when she declared I was the David to her Jonathan. What an insightful foreshadowing that was.

"[T]he soul of Jonathan was knit to the soul of David....then Jonathan and David made a covenant because he loved him as his own soul."

1 Samuel 18:1,3

I am hesitant to use adequate language to describe our friendship because I know it may be interpreted incorrectly by some. It makes me tremble to think there are people who might misunderstand what I want to communicate. So I offer this disclaimer: don't fall into the cultural folly of thinking the only love of great strength is romantic love. It isn't. Today's cheap definition of romance could never stand up to what we had. Stated briefly--ours was a covenantal friendship. To borrow David's words in 2 Samuel 1, "[She was] very pleasant to me; [her] love to me was wonderful, surpassing the love of [men]."

Ours was a connection unlike anything I have ever experienced. My friendships are few, long-lasting and miles deep. Normally, I watch a person carefully before I choose them, and I give my heart by inches. But Jenny and I did not choose each other. We were given to each other. Our friendship began fast and furiously--yes, like falling in love--and our souls were irrevocably entwined before I knew what had happened. The kind of love God was calling us to was whole, true, painful, put-your-soul-on-the-line love. 

You cannot protect yourself in that kind of love. No wall you build or shield you bear can stand up to it. And you would not want it to. Not really. It is the kind of love that changes you forever, leaving behind invisible tattoos upon you both with each meeting and conversation. It is the kind of love in which you see the other person's most admirable strengths and gravest sins and love them still--maybe more. You battle her dragons and she battles yours--back to back and swords at the ready. You praise her successes without a hint of jealousy, angst or irony. Without a hint! Even when one of you is dying and the other is beginning to heal. You want to suffer and die in her stead, and would if you could. You can't, but you hurt with her. You pray for her. You offer what little strength you have and hope it helps. You become so connected you melt into her and she melts into you so that you no longer can tell where you begin and she ends. You can boldly tell the truth always because you never doubt how loved you are. You can challenge one another, disagree, say hard things and come out better and stronger on the other side. You don't worry about offending. Pure love cannot be offended. Ever. With the exception of Christ's love for the Church, ours was the purest I have known. I say that because self-service was never a thought, offense never took place and mutual understanding was a reflex--words optional. We were for one another more than we were for ourselves.

And I have lost her.

She passed on March 8, 2014 after two years of intense suffering. It is a great mystery to me that I am standing, walking and talking. Have you ever attempted to tear apart something knit together? It's almost impossible to do and once done, the only thing left behind is a frayed mess of something now unrecognizable. I feel less like myself without her in the world. I am drowning in an ocean of grief. That is what grief is--drowning. When a wave hits you, it takes the breath away. It literally aches and burns in the lungs. Though I have been actively grieving for her for almost a year--for her suffering and in knowing she was slipping away--I haven't gotten any better at the whole "grieving well" thing, whatever that looks like.

Yet I am surviving. (Surviving sucks, by the way.) I stand because the mercies of the Lord hold me up (Psalm 94:18). I am too wounded to walk, so the Lord is carrying me in His arms (Isaiah 40:11). Talking is hard. Writing is harder. But this is a chapter in need of writing, and we all do what we must. Somehow I smile. I smile at the nosegays the kids and I craft from the delicate wildflowers popping up in our yard because "nosegay" was Jenny's favorite word. I smile at my children, my husband and all things happy because she was happy, she is happy and she would want me to be happy. I smile because she is no longer suffering. She is free! She is no longer wearing those "sick rags," but is instead clothed in gleaming white robes of righteousness! I smile because she is in the best place with the best Companion. All the needs, longings and hopes of her soul are entirely fulfilled. That knowledge is precious to me. The loss is sharp and brutal, but I am swimming in a sea of hope because I know I will see her again. And I'm going to be okay--even here and now--because as much as I loved the girl, she wasn't my everything. I was careful about that. Jesus is my everything, and He's not going anywhere. He is actually nearer for the pain.

To my surprise, Jenny was buried about an hour from Jubilee Farm, so Brandon and I were able to attend the burial service. The drive was gorgeous. Life was bursting from the ground in fresh, vibrant blooms. New calves chewed bright green grass near their mothers' knees. Warm sunlight poured from the heavens--a smile of victory from my yellow-souled friend. Wind rushed through the trees, making music in honor of her free spirit. I had prayed for a perfect day. God delivered.

As I hugged her family--each embrace feeling like another difficult goodbye--and gazed at that horrid coffin and that awful hole in the ground, the voice which kept repeating, "It's over, it's over," was drowned out by the Voice of Truth--"It's only beginning. It's going to be more than okay. All this heartache and all this pain will heighten the ecstasy of the reunion to come! Believe Me and rest joyfully in hope!"

 On the way home, budding pear trees reminded me of the reality of the resurrection. When I see her again, my Jenny will not be some ethereal wisp of what she was. She will be a perfected version of herself in physical form. She will laugh, eat and dance. I will recognize not only her spirit, but her face. And she will recognize me. Our dreams will be fully, exponentially realized. We will

"join hands and grin conspiratorially at one another before taking an unbridled, running leap and plunging into the vast, deep waters of endless Jubilee!" (Quote taken from my post "Dreams of Jubilee")

taken 2/10/13 at Juliet's first birthday party

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

On February 19, the day of our final communication on this side of heaven, I wrote the following tribute to my covenant friend:

The only show of light more precious than the first sun rays of the morning caressing the earth in happy greeting is the glow of late afternoon. With a mustering of effort, an aria bursts forth on golden breath before lapsing into lullaby. There is something glorious about the victory of the moment. It is a final act of  rebellion against the gathering darkness before she fades peacefully into her rest. And nothing in creation is more graceful than her farewell painted in fire and roses on the western horizon. Though we are saddened to see her go, we are filled with unspeakable gratitude she came at all, whispering secrets of her Creator only she could tell and leaving life in her wake. We will weep at the loss, but will take comfort in the assurance we will see her again, renewed and more glorious than we can now conceive.

photos taken November 2012 at the Toledo Bend lake house

Though she appears in many posts written between September 2012 and March 2014, the following are my "Jenny posts" in which she is featured:

"Sometimes, Kismet Happens"

"Like a Lake"

"Dreams of Jubilee"

"A Portrait of the Gospel"

Valentine from God

Last night as I prayed for "my people," God laid three ladies on my heart. One is in the midst of a painful separation. Another is a hard-working single mom. The third is operating as a single working mother while her husband is serving in the military. He finishes his one year of service in August.

Valentine's Day can be unpleasant. For every blissfully happy couple, there are three more trying to piece back together their shattered hopes and dreams.

If you have been hurt, this valentine is for you. If you have been broken beyond repair, this valentine is for you. It's for you whether you're blissfully happy, married 50 years, terribly lonely, or thriving in singleness. Whether you love this holiday or hate it, this valentine is for you. If you know Jesus, read it as a love letter. If you don't, allow me to introduce you to this amazing Man I love. I pray you'll love Him, too.

For ET, NB and JB. 
You ladies have my deepest respect and affection. 
xoxo

Dear Beloved, 

I have loved you with an everlasting love. (Jeremiah 31:3)

I am your Husband. (Isaiah 54:5)

I am yours and you are Mine. (Song of Solomon 2:16)

As the bridegroom rejoices over his bride, so I rejoice over you. (Isaiah 62:5)

See—I have inscribed you on the palms of My hands. (Isaiah 49:16)

You are the apple of my eye. (Psalm 17:8)

I know the number of hairs on your head. (Matthew 10:30)

I keep your tears in a bottle. (Psalm 56:8)

Behold--what manner of love I have bestowed on you that you should be called My child! (1 John 3:1)

I chose you before the foundation of the world. (Ephesians 1:4)

I have demonstrated My love toward you by dying in your place even when you hated Me. (Romans 5:8; 1 John 4:9-11)

Because you are in Me, you are not condemned. (Romans 8:1)

You are perfect in My sight—beautiful and glorious, without spot, wrinkle, or blemish. (Ephesians 5:27)

If you are Mine and your heart condemns you, do not listen. I am greater than your heart, and I know all things. (1 John 3:20)

I want you to comprehend the width and length and depth and height of My love so you will be filled with My fullness. (Ephesians 3:18-19)

Nothing—neither death nor life, nor angels nor demons nor powers, nor things present nor things to come, nor height nor depth, nor any other thing in all of creation can separate you from My love. (Romans 8:38-39)

When you pass through the waters, I will be with you. Raging rivers cannot overflow you. When you walk through the fire, you will not be burned. I am the Lord your God, your Savior. I am with you and always for you. (Isaiah 43:2-5)

I have set you as a seal upon My heart, as a seal upon My arm. My love is stronger than death. Many waters cannot quench it, nor can floods drown it. (Song of Solomon 8:6-7)

I am always near. I rejoice over you with gladness! I will quiet you with My love. You fill My heart with song! (Zephaniah 3:17)

With exquisite joy, I look to our wedding day! You will be resplendent dressed in My righteousness. Your heart will be filled with rapture! Your tears, pain, and sorrow will be but a distant memory, and we will be together forever! (Revelation 19-22)

Hold fast to Me for I am your life. (Deuteronomy 32:47)

I will never let you go. (John 10:28)

May you know how much you are treasured this Valentine’s Day and every day. (Deuteronomy 14:2)

Love,
God

Afraid to Hope: My Feelings About Mayo

From the moment I made the decision to go to Mayo Clinic, I doubted myself. Not for a moment have I truly believed I will receive help there. Not for a moment. The best outcome I can foresee is a possible diagnosis, and I am not certain I will even receive that. I have changed my mind a hundred times. The question I have asked again and again is, "Is a diagnosis worth risking my life and health, leaving my husband and children for a long period of time, placing this burden upon my entire family, lending myself to the mercy of doctors and a system I do not trust, subjecting myself to a myriad of dangerous and painful tests, and incurring an incredible medical debt?"

My mind answers with a resounding "no." I have done my research. I am aware of the recommended treatments for mast cell activation diseases, and I have tried them. They didn't help. Thus, I turned to natural medicine. I stand by my choice. I am aware of several people with mast cell disease who have improved using natural methods. Looking to Mayo feels like a betrayal of my beliefs. The idea of leaving my husband and children for an indeterminate amount of time grips my heart with steel and ice. When I imagine what it will be like up there, I cannot breathe. But when I stop mentally listing the meager pros and numerous cons and bring my struggle before the Lord, I am enveloped in an ubiquitous sense of peace I cannot argue away.


During the early pitch black hours of February 1, thought and spirit were battling once again when I recalled the story of Gideon. I had read Judges 6 the morning before. The story begins with Gideon threshing grain in secret for fear of the greedy, destructive Midianites who were oppressing Israel at the time. In his fear, the Lord declares to Gideon, "The Lord is with you, you mighty man of valor!" (v. 12) God tells Gideon he will save Israel from the Midianites, but he was slow to believe. Gideon was least in his father's house and of the weakest clan of his tribe (v. 15) and very like me--lily-livered. He felt the enormity of the calling, and it terrified him. He knew he would not be able to take the first step unless he was beyond certain the Lord was with him. So he asked for a sign. And another. And another--until he was forced to believe the word of Yaweh.

When I read the story, I certainly identified with Gideon, but what struck me is God's response. God could have passed him over or killed him for his lack of faith, but He patiently fulfilled all three signs--each one slightly more ridiculous than the one before. The reason for God's patience, I think, is that He saw in Gideon a heart willing to obey Him even to his death if only he could be sure it was God leading him there. I think this resolve is the reason God calls him "a man of valor." He doubted himself, not God. So the Lord did what was necessary to meet Gideon where he was in his mustard seed sized faith, proving to His man that He was with him. It was God's response to Gideon that gave me the courage to ask Him for a sign of my own.

Up until then, I was trusting the fulfilled sign my mother had been given, the wisdom of the three praying women I consider to be my spiritual mentors, and the deep seated feeling in the center of my stomach telling me to go in spite of my hesitation. For a person with a bit more faith, these things probably would have been sufficient. But I am like Thomas--disbelieving the evidence of my own eyes because my mind is so assured of the facts.

I told Him I couldn't go to Mayo unless I was absolutely certain He wanted it. I couldn't do it to myself or my family. I could only go if I knew. So I asked God to do something simultaneously difficult and easy. I asked for a good word about Mayo from an unbiased source if I was to go and a bad word about Mayo from an unbiased source if I was not to go. I told Him I wouldn't make an appointment until I had an answer. I was honestly hoping I wouldn't have to make an appointment at all.

The sign was difficult because I don't often speak with unbiased sources. I see or hear from about ten people on a weekly basis, and two of those are my kids. Everyone close to me has an agenda, and though those agendas differ, the aim of them all is my improvement. These people love me fiercely, and they all have different opinions about what is best for me. Not one of them was qualified to give the word. So that left phone calls and Facebook, and it's unusual to get an unbiased opinion on Facebook. The request was also easy because it was just a word and well--it's God. He can make a donkey speak if He wants.

On February 5, I was driving into town for an appointment and making conversation with Jesus. I told Him that I knew how He did things. I knew He was going to wait until the last possible minute to deliver the sign. He may even seem late to me, but I believed He would send the word. I was watching and waiting for it.

Later that evening, I had an impromptu Skype session with my friend, Madonna Gil. I don't remember which one of us brought up the topic--Madonna told me she had considered going to Mayo for her own disease, but she wasn't sure they could do anything for her. As she said this, I was preparing to tell her about the sign I had asked of the Lord. Before I could get it out of my mouth, she told me that her former roommate's parents had both gone to Mayo, had loved it and strongly encouraged her and anyone to go.

There it was: an entirely unbiased good word. Madonna even echoed my own feelings about the place. I told the Lord only a few hours prior that I was watching and waiting. The sign was on the tip of my tongue as she gave it. And still I tried to explain it away! I argued details like "It wasn't her experience" and "I may have been the one to bring up the subject, so it doesn't count." I didn't know how badly I didn't want to go until that moment. A corner of my mind fretted and prayed about the thing as my friend and I continued our conversation until a sharp, clear command rolled across my brain like one of those moving LED banner screens--"Stop! I have delivered the sign you asked for just as you asked for it."

I shared the entire story with my friend before we ended our conversation. "You were the mouthpiece of God for me today, and I hate you just a little bit for it," I told her with a smile. "I wanted the answer to be 'no.'"

I thought about what I was going to have to do as I laid upon my bed that night, which resulted in an acute panic attack. I thought about how I'm going to be in a nasty, toxic hotel room that will make me very sick, how I'm going to have to go into a hospital full of chemicals and people and doctors who are going to look at me like a commitable lunatic, how I'm going to have to subject myself to tests which could be extremely painful and even life threatening for me, how I'm going to be so very lonely even with my mother there, how I'm going to yearn for my husband and children, how I'm going to be the sickest I've ever been in my life, how hard it's going to be to source and prepare food I can eat while being that sick, how much it will cost, how I could get sicker or even die while there. And all for what? A diagnosis?

In my turmoil, I remembered that God is not the author of fear. I found some peace through prayer and scripture which came to mind. I acknowledged that God was within His rights to send me to my death if He wished, and if He was going to kill me, I was sure He had a perfectly good reason.

Real peace came the next morning. I was reading Judges 13 in which the Angel of the Lord came to Manoah and his wife to tell them they would have a son who would begin to deliver Israel from the Philistines. Manoah offered to prepare a meal for the Angel before He left them, but Manoah was instructed to offer a burnt offering instead. The Lord ascended to heaven on the flame of the offering, and the spectacle was so magnificent that Manoah and his wife fell on their faces. Manoah lamented that he would surely die because he had seen the glory of the Lord.

"But his wife said to him, 'If the Lord had desired to kill us, He would not have accepted a burnt offering and a grain offering from our hands, nor would He have shown us all these things, nor would He have told us such things as these at this time.'" (Judges 13:23)

Even now, tears spring to my eyes as I ponder God's goodness, faithfulness, kindness and patience.

The Fear immediately retaliated against my joy, attempting to quell the beacon of light shining into my heart. "It will be the darkest hour of your life thus far," he whispered.

A brighter light--"I AM nearest when the night is darkest."

I trembled at the thrilling thought. Oh! How near and precious He has been in the past! Do I dare to imagine greater joy and intimacy? For that I'll go! It will be worth it!

I would like to tell you doubt no longer plagues me, but I can't. I feel like I'm giving up on something I haven't given a fair chance to work. I feel like I'm betraying a part of myself. I really believe in natural, holistic medicine. Though it may not be evident to everyone, I am better because of it. My family is better because of it. When people come to me for advice, I share the gospel of natural medicine as freely as I share the gospel of Jesus Christ. I wouldn't do that if I didn't have faith in it.

But natural medicine cannot be my Savior. I already have One, and He demands all of my faith and trust. I do not serve an ideology. I serve a Living God who is wild, multifaceted, unpredictable and relentless. He will do what He wants, how He wants, using who He wants. He has reminded me that just because He is now leading me to Mayo Clinic doesn't mean He is leading me away from natural medicine. Though I am venturing to a new place, I am not to abandon what I have learned. Instead, I will use it as a shield and filter for the next leg of the journey. 

And who knows? I may be wrong. I'm often wrong, and God likes to point out my wrongness at every turn. Maybe they can help me. Whether they can or not, nothing can be allowed greater respect and reverence in my life than the Spirit of the Lord. I am first and foremost His. I am not my own. I must follow where He leads even when I don't understand. Even when I disagree. As Timothy Keller says, "Obedience is hard; disobedience is impossible."

Truly, this is a leap of faith for me. I am diving head first into the unknown. The mist is thick and the darkness deep. I haven't the smallest inkling of how far I will fall or what the terrain is like at the bottom of the abyss. I am afraid to hope. If I hope, I may find myself in a sea of disappointment, and those are treacherous waters indeed. But there is one thing I can count on--no matter how far I fall, "underneath are the everlasting arms" (Deut. 33:27).

Please pray:

• for peace and courage
• for needed arrangements (private flight, hotel with kitchen, local source of safe food, appointments, child care, family care, transportation while we are there)
• for the doctors I will see
• for all of God's purposes to be fulfilled
• for safety
• for my man and kids

I will call in a couple of weeks to set up my appointments. I will update here as things unfold. I am excited to experience and share what God has in store!

Update:

My body is still struggling with daily reactions, fatigue and insomnia. Recently, my pain has been especially bad, particularly in my joints and lower back. I am very excited to report that Jennifer Nervo, a nutritional therapist and author of the blog 20 Something Allergies has taken on my case. The idea is to thoughtfully nourish myself to better health! Once I begin dietary and supplemental protocol, I will post regular reports of my improvement on Facebook and/or here. 

Also, I have an opportunity to safely attend church now! My grandparents' congregation is small, and only a handful of regular attendees go to the Sunday night service. My grandparents have offered to ask everyone to omit their fragrances for my sake. When I am feeling strong and well, I will attend services there. I am thrilled! I have really missed church!

To Such a One

On Sunday, I spent time in prayer for several dear friends in various, serious situations. This poem formed out of those prayers.

Dedicated to Jenny Foster and the Gauley family.

“To Such a One”

You are a white fire blazing,

angry at the wicked ev’ry day.

You are a storm unyielding,

devastating all within your wake.

You are the cosmic architect

building galaxies with a breath.

You are the fount of wisdom

ordaining limits to the depths.

You are the prima artist—

the light your paint, the clouds your clay.

You are the chief musician

singing darkness into day.

You are a judge of fury;

before you none can stand.

You are power unending—

life and death in your hand.

You are, too, the lamb of sacrifice,

mild and meek, my soul to save.

You are the champion of legend

who has snatched me from the grave.

You are the tenderest lover

kissing me with mercy and with grace.

You are the keenest observer

numbering the freckles on my face.

You are a priceless treasure,

a wealth beyond belief.

You are the true inheritance

endowing all I need.

You are the ever faithful friend

I will meet upon the Shore.

You are my home, my groom, my God

for all days, forevermore.

To such a One I can entrust

all matters—flesh and soul;

and not just mine—for He is vast—

but all I love and know.

And not just those within my scope

for that would be too small,

but all mankind throughout all time,

creation—seen and unseen—all.

Melissa A. Keaster
1/12/14

A Year of Wait, A Year of Peace

 "When Heaven is going to give a great responsibility to someone, it first makes his mind endure suffering. It makes his sinews and bones experience toil, and his body suffer hunger. It inflicts him with poverty and knocks down everything he tries to build. In this way Heaven stimulates his mind, stabilizes his temper, and develops his weak points." 

 --The Book of Mencius (Chinese, 300 BC)

quoted in Timothy Keller's Walking with God through Pain and Suffering

January is always hard for me. I've tried to like this lackluster, step cousin of a month all my life, and just can't quite manage it. I think I shall give up the endeavor entirely, and attempt to peacefully coexist with the grey, cold, hard month of January, accepting her just as she is because she has much to teach me.

As the first month of the year, January offers an opportunity to reflect upon the year now gone and the new one to come. For the last three years, I have kept a regular journal which I like to review as a part of my new year contemplations. Upon the pages recorded in 2013, I find assurance of God's faithfulness, a reminder that January passes and clear evidence of quiet, mysterious growth over time. I rediscover surprises--both good and bad--and find how wrong my guesses concerning the future often are. The latter discovery has so humbled me, in fact, that I have resolved to make no resolutions this year, for a staggering amount of my good intentions and serious efforts crumble to dust. No worries though--dust has its place. And I do not have to dig deep to discover treasures hidden in the rubble.


1) Mom's jubilee birthday celebration. Though jubilee often manifested itself in perplexing ways, I don't think a one of us would fail to recognize its presence in 2013.

2) Brandon's personal and spiritual growth. A stronger marriage for the struggle. I so respect and admire this man.

3) God planted in my heart a desire to adopt. I expect a significant passage of time before this desire comes to fruition, but I am excited and expectant.

4) My Papaw, Jenny and myself looked death in the eye (almost simultaneously), and were granted more time.

5) Jubilee's first summer garden. I consider that first garden to be the miracle prayed for on my behalf on the 8th of June.

 

6) New friends. Meetings and reconnections with old friends.

7) The time spent in my parents' home this summer. A renewed closeness with each of my parents.

8) The inception of the novel I am writing.
 
 9) Jenny's wedding.

10) Richard Morrison becoming a part of our lives through his marriage to Hannah. This man is a blessing to us all. We are thrilled to have him in the family. P.S. The wedding was beautiful, and I was able to attend.

All wedding photos taken by Jolly Tucker Photography.

11) Growth in the children: Micah has overcome fear and awkwardness. Therapy has helped him become who he really is--outgoing, friendly, hilarious and unafraid. He is learning with every question he asks, and like any four year old, he asks a ton! Best of all, I see the seeds of the gospel taking root in his little soul, and it thrills this mama to no end.

 

Sara has responded well to changes in her diet. Her cognitive development and emotional control have improved tremendously. I thought she might be a slower learner than Micah, but it turns out that I was wrong. Now that the allergy-induced brain fog has cleared, she is incredibly observant, soaks in information like a sponge and makes impressive connections between concepts, events and persons.

 

It comforts my sore heart to know they are blossoming in spite of the limitations my illness creates. (Thanks to the family members who help me water my little flowers.)
 

12) My own growth. I don't say this with any pride in myself for I know the achievement belongs to the Lord alone, but I am a better person for living through 2013--January and all. I know and love my Jesus better, and that one fact makes me better in every way a person can be better. There are many "miles to go before I sleep," but growth is the thing.

The lesson of 2013 was "wait." I asked the Lord to show me what it means to wait upon Him years ago, and He answered. Not as gently as I had in mind, but He answered. Though I am still very much in a waiting period and still learning to wait well, God has revealed that 2014 has a new theme--"peace." Peace in knowing what is wrong with me and understanding my prognosis, peace in not knowing the future. Peace in fear, peace in loss, peace in heartbreak, peace in grief. Peace, peace, peace. Pure, perfect peace transcending all we comprehend of life and death.

While I have resolved not to make resolutions (as it seems I am powerless to make anything happen regardless of the strength of my will), I have in mind a collection of challenges for myself. Some matter more than others. God is my peace in success or failure.

2014 Challenges:

1) Know Christ more fully.
2) Seek diagnosis and greater understanding of my disease at Mayo Clinic in May.
3) Potty train my girl.
4) Send my boy to school. Those of you who know me know I wanted to homeschool my children before I had children. However, I believe that for homeschool to be successful, a mother must be able to get her children out of the home regularly for cooperative learning and socialization experiences. I am unable to do that, so I believe it is in Micah's best interests to attend school. Thankfully, we have found a school which matches our educational philosophy and goals.
5) Love my family and friends in creative and meaningful ways; freely accept the love they are able to give; forgive disbelief and misunderstanding.
6) Be "joyful in hope, patient under trial and faithful in prayer."
7) Work on the novel.
8) Read more; Facebook less.
9) Stop trying to predict or control the future.
10) Dance during hard moments. Literally--dance.
11) Laugh upon every opportunity.
12) Stop waiting to feel better to live. Weigh the risk and reward. Pray for wisdom. Live.

While January 2014 seems to be no different than the Januarys which have come before and though I have not had a truly "good day" yet this year, I am brimming with anticipation. My girl will be potty trained soon. No more diapers! My boy will turn 5 and go to kindergarten. I will go to Mayo and turn 30 soon after. Brandon and I will celebrate 10 years of marriage. And then there are many surprises which will come our way. Some surprises will be welcome, some will be unpleasant, but all will be for our good. I can rest in the face of the unknown because "the Dayspring from on high has visited us to give light to those who sit in darkness and the shadow of death, to guide our feet into the way of peace" (Luke 1:79).

Peace--a beautiful word.

May 2014 be a year of peace for you, too.