Showing posts with label Grace. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Grace. Show all posts

Sunday, January 20, 2013

Moments


It has been two years since I was diagnosed with cancer. Life has become richer in meaning and so many precious lessons of trusting God have been given for which I'm grateful.

Upon request, I'm posting a sampling of moments mainly captured by my roommate's cell phone camera. These snapshots offer glimpses into the corners of the past two years. The in-between moments of everyday life in His grace. I hope that you enjoy!



























Sunday, November 4, 2012

The Alpine Heights of His Heart


My family gave a musical vesper program at my grandma's church a few weeks ago. What I shared that evening included excerpts from a book by a shepherd on the 23rd Psalm that I read earlier this year. This book is filled with practical insights from every day sheep husbandry that has greatly deepened my understanding of this wellknown psalm. It is on my "highly recommended" list. 

Here is a bit of what I shared from the chapter on the Valley of the Shadow of Death:

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“Many shepherds take their flocks on long drives to distant summer ranges during the summer. The sheep move along slowly, gradually working their way up the mountains behind the receding snow. By late summer they are well up on the remote alpine meadows above the timberline.

With the approach of autumn, early snow settles on the highest ridges. . . Finally, toward the end of the year as fall passes, the sheep are driven back to the ranch headquarters where they will spend the winter. It is this segment of the yearly operation that is described in the last half of the poem.

During this time the flock is entirely alone with the shepherd. They are in intimate contact and under his most personal supervision day and night. All the dangers of rampaging rivers in flood; avalanches; rock slides; poisonous plants; the ravages of predators that raid the flock or the awesome storms of sleet and hail and snow were familiar to David when he wrote this. He had handled his sheep and managed them under all of these adverse conditions. Nothing took him by surprise. He was fully prepared to safeguard his flock and tend them with skill in every circumstance.

In the last verses there is a grandeur, a quietness, an assurance that sets the soul at rest. “I will not fear, for you are with me. . .”

Many Christian people speak of wanting to have mountain top experiences with God. Often we get an erroneous idea about how this takes place. It is though we imagined we could be “air lifted” onto higher ground. On the rough trail of the Christian life this is not so. As with ordinary sheep management, so with God’s people, 

One only gains higher ground by climbing up through the valleys.

There is a second reason why sheep are led to the mountain tops by the way of the valleys. Not only is this the way of the gentlest grades, but also it is the well watered route. During the journey the flocks experience intense thirst. How glad they are for the frequent watering places along the valley route where they can be refreshed. As Christians we will sooner or later discover that it is in the valleys of our lives that we find refreshment from God Himself.

A third reason why the rancher chooses to take his flock into the high country by way of the valleys is that this is generally were the richest feed and best forage is to be found along the route. The shepherd wants to be sure there will not only be water but also the best grazing available for the ewes and their lambs. Generally, the choicest meadows are in these valleys along the stream banks." 

~A Shepherd Looks at Psalm 23

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In my own life journey, specifically with cancer, I have found this to be solid true. In every dark crisis and challenge God has proved his consistent and gentle care. 

It may be hard for some to imagine how refreshment could be found in what, from all outward appearances, seems to be a dangerous and dismal place. As a human, I instinctively fear darkness – but with God I am secure - even joyful. As David wrote in another psalm, “ Not even dark is dark to you. Night will shine like the day.” 

Though there are hard decisions to make. But though there is grief - I am not afraid of cancer. 

God is with me. 

The dangers of the journey are not unknown to Him. As we walk along together I am in wonderment at His tenderness, surprised at His provision for the smallest needs, and joyful in His love. 

The view from the trail is stunning. 

May all your valleys become passages to the alpine heights of His heart.

Tuesday, April 17, 2012

Blessings Unfolding

Tomato leaves uncurling
Sunscreen
Dirt-covered limbs all happy
Buttercup faces smiling
His gentle voice guiding
Joy in quiet duties
Hats on the wall
Carrying rocks back from walks for flowerbed hems

The tap on the shoulder to pray - so many miles away . . .
A motorcycle wreck at 60 mph
His angel(s)
No spinal cord injuries or broken bones!
Seeing Phoebe's friendly face in the ER
That I still have my Nathan :)

Mr. and Mrs. Chickadee residing in the bluebird house
Moss-made nest with love tufts of softness inside
The tiniest chickadee egglets you ever saw!
Sun-filled windows
Orchids arching graceful
Long talks with heart friends
Sisters laughing long

Thursday, March 15, 2012

Grace

Someones graceful fingers are playing old tunes from golden years. Grand piano music lilts through the air of the waiting room in the cancer center. I sit in the same spot on the same couch and the same staff bustle about. It has been a year since I finished radiation treatments and I'm here for a follow-up visit. The same spot - but I have traveled a full earth orbit and back since then.

Somebody's grandpa rolls out in a wheelchair and stops at the brass bell on the wall. Tugging the cord he rings it loudly and everyone cheers. His radiation treatments are complete. And he grins - proud to be sitting there to grin. There is tenderness in my heart for him - and I smile that I was to shy to ring the bell on my last day. Then they call me back to see the radiation oncologist.

When the doctor, who has become my friend, enters the room there is a joyous warmth in his eyes. The kind of honest warmth that only can come from entering utter hopelessness and unexpectedly discovering God. He grins broadly when he asks how I'm doing for he can already see that I'm healthy. His thorough assessment affirms this and he asks if I have any further questions.

"Yes." Pausing. I'm not sure how to phrase it. . . "I never received a bill from you. . . It has been over a year."

Kind eyes twinkle, a fountain of merriment, as he shakes his head in mock disgust, "My staff is horrible! I'm going to fire them all!"

Then in gentle seriousness, "Don't worry about it."

This ~ After the scores of care providers I've seen, stacks of bills, various versions of financial assistance applications - a maze of financial headaches. And how many 100,000's dollars of care was this gift worth? The gratitude makes me dizzy - I can hardly mumble thanks. It seems incredibly insignificant word.

"Do you mind if I give thanks for you?" He asks.

Grinning, he bows his head in the same humble way that he has ended each of our visits - Thanking God for His love and grace. The absence of pretension, cockiness, and condescension creates a beautiful space for God's presence. His trust is not resting on the astounding achievements of scientific technology or his own intellectual competency. His confidence is in God.

When I was bleeding out from an angry looking tumor and none of the doctors knew what to do, he sat down on the side of my bed and bowed his head and thanked God for me. Now, over a year of thanking later, he thanks God for my healing. This thankful trust threading through all. Gratitude in death and in life.

When my roommate and I parted in the parking lot, she paused in beautiful wonderment, "God must be like Dr. Rice." And I agreed, for the noblest, humblest, and kindest man on earth is but a faint reflection of my God.

As I merged into traffic towards home I remembered the first time I understood what grace meant. It was 2005 and I couldn't apply for college until transcripts from my high school were released, and this must wait until the several thousand dollar bill was paid in full. I had no way to pay it off even if I sent in all my summer earnings.

When I received a statement from the school I opened the envelope with a heavy heart, but heaviness lifted into incredulous amazement. A friend had paid it for me! Earned with blood, sweat, and tears of hard labor. Money that could have gone towards their college expenses or purchased a first car. This sacrifice of love redefined grace for me. A deep desire grew - to attempt to pass onto others even the tiniest bit of this beautiful grace I had received. Perhaps someday I will be able to.

I once thought myself somewhat educated. But then there are these moments when I'm not sure I even understand the most basic definition of a one-syllable word.

God, please teach me how to live grace.

Friday, January 27, 2012

Moments of Mud and Sky



Duets with Shama
Now - a one year cancer survivor
Watching Nathan Green paint life
Salads from our bucket garden in January
Lunch with a friend
Soft horse noses nuzzling
Mud on my boots
Flannel shirt comfort
The steadiness of God
Her tears of deep love at the name of Jesus
My reliable car
A covered bridge
An iron pressing steam in
The bedraggled downy woodpecker
Gardening dreams
When the sky swirls - a water color in the making
Daffodil leaves slipping up
Braided bread all golden

Friday, December 23, 2011

An Unexpected Song

When the doctors said, "Well, because she is young we will do everything we can. . ."

I knew that their professional optimism didn't stretch far at all.
Knowing. That the only way to breathe steady each moment was my surrender to His wisdom.
That I must trust my dreams, my people, and my heart to His keeping.

For whatever divine reason - He chose to give another breath. And then I breathed the daffodills and earthscents of spring. Watching the wildflowers blend into the green grace of summer. There were months of prayer, choosing to trust and deep heart searching. Coming to realize I have no right to the priveledge of life over any other person. Life is Gift.

Every moment is pure grace. Each small detail is extravegance.

He gave the gift of attending my cousins wedding in July, completing chemo in August, and visiting dear heart family across the eastern states in Semptember. I have been gifted with crimson leaves, tangerine skies, and the shadows of angels. Completing the circle of seasons all the way to the cheery Christmas lights, the caroling, and contemplative joy.

He has graced me with cancer.

Now, I more fully comprehend His love. In the lives of those I love, I have touched the fulfillment of years of prayers. My trust in God is growing organic. The values of my heart are rooting deep and sure. Where I have lost physical strength I have gained a rugged confidence in His care.

And honestly, I wouldn't trade it in for anything.

Yes it has been hard. I have cried freely, stumbled hard and wondered if I could even try again... But all things taken into account - This has been the best year of my life so far!


"The Father's presence encircled Christ, and
nothing befell Him but that which infinite love permitted for the blessing of the world.
Here was His source of comfort, and it is for us.
He who is imbued with the Spirit of Christ abides in Christ.
The blow that is aimed at him falls upon the Saviour, who surrounds him with His presence.
Whatever comes to him comes from Christ.
He has no need to resist evil, for Christ is his defense. Nothing can touch him except by our Lord's permission, and "all things" that are permitted "work together for good to them that love God."
~ Thoughts from the Mount of Blessing


Like an unexpected song.
An unexpected song - that is only just beginning. . .

Wednesday, September 7, 2011

Here - A wonderful place to be!

When my oncologist said, "You're one of my favorite patients, you know," I laughed and wondered quietly if he tells all of his patients that or if it's simply because I'm still alive after all these months. And I wondered at the courage it takes to come into work every morning and fight grim odds when so many cancer patients die. So I thank him for his commitment. He tells me to keep praying.

But honestly I've never asked God for my life. Not because I don't believe in prayer, but because I trust His brains over my own. Ultimately the life and death decisions are His alone anyway. I know my perception of 'what is grace' can be warped by my desire for comfort and my idea of happiness. So I do not wish to fight His wisdom. The mystery of why I am here and others like my dear sweet cousin Valerie are not, is far too heavy for my very human heart. It is not for me to understand or carry. As C.S. Lewis wrote, each of us are told only our own story.

My own story has had surprising turns this year and now I have arrived at the end of a chapter: Diagnosis, surgery, and chemo. A place that was once very hard to imagine. With my first clear CT scan behind me and no more chemo scheduled there is a new horizon. Uncharted discoveries within the realm of time. A journey to regain strength, discover purpose, and live new chapters.

My courage for the future stems from His provision in the past. And His provision has been miraculous! The miracles of the hospital forgiving my bill of over $100,000 from the hospitalization in January before I had insurance. The gifts of kind hearts who carried me in their prayers and gave generously to keep other medical bills out of collections. Whether I have needed a ride to an appointment, a book to read, vitamins, a song, a meal, or a hug - I have never once lacked! Thank you! My gratitude spills over!

Saturday, May 21, 2011

Life

I am home.

Those are three wonderful words! Contented sigh . . .

It is Sabbath. And I have spent a leisurely morning reading long and slow from my bible and other inspirational selections. Soaking up the luxuries of quiet peace in my own nest. Grateful for His words and your words - all so gracious and undeserved.

To be - here.

What a grace! A gift completely over my head!

I have no legal right to exist. My life does not have to be. Nearly wasn't - Dr. Johnson said so, and all the other doctors agreed. He fully credit's the success of my medical case to prayer and the healing power of God. Miraculous.

A miracle is a beautiful reason to trust. But to trust means to be okay with not having answers, and still believing when no miracle comes. And what if I had died that cold Sabbath morning when gentle hands transferred my limp and bleeding body to the ICU bed? Would you still trust? If no miracle came?

I only know there was peace for me when the world grew fuzzy and begin to fade. A gentle surprise - for no one knows, and certainly I didn't guess, when last moments stretch what one could feel. And there was no tightness, no bitterness, no despair.

Simply surprising trust that God knew and that I could rest. One would think that the strongest trust is born of long experience but my 23 years are very short and my trust fails daily. I can not trace it's origin. And so I learn that even trust itself is a gift. A grace for the moment when needed. Always close for the receiving.

To think that God, the God of all this vastness we live in, would care - would offer me life! This wild yet tenuous adventure. . . And you, dear friend are holding the same. Do you know it? Do you breath it's fullness? Do you trust?

And when the pleaded for miracle doesn't come will we still believe? For desire contrasted in that darkness is the place of purest trust and brightest hope. A greater miracle then the prayer or the answer in and of themselves.

What does it mean to be handed life?

Sunday, May 1, 2011

Cathedrals in time

A thousand steps of praise.
A thousand cathedrals in time.
A thousand moments lived.


In this counting of His gifts I have discovered new dimensions in the architecture of the present. It has been the beautiful beginning of a journey - of learning to have grateful eyes. Grateful eyes and a trusting heart not only in the sunbeams of spring but even in the midst of devastation, grief, and loss. To give thanks in all things. . .

Here are pieces of my journey:

640 Apple blossoms outside the kitchen window
641 Cardinals kissing in the rain
679 Resolving chord progressions
685 Packages on the porch
705 Flames of dainty columbine
707 A protected cove
712 Wood smoke scent
720 Kerosene lamp light
759 Organized drawers
791 Letters from the Philippines
805 Familiar faces in the hospital
829 Nest-full of baby blue birds
830 True humility
838 Sisters creek-walking
841 Walking behind the falls
857 Wild roses
860 Sunlight gold through green
875 Worship at Kristin's house
877 Ms. Trudy's love and prayers
878 Hindi mothers
887 My hymnal
896 Sweet joy
907 Peppers of many colors
916 Saralyn comfort
919 Verses of hope
921 Storm preparation
924 Strength of trees in the wind
946 Awareness of humanness
947 Colors after a storm
949 Butterflies dancing
953 Polite drivers when traffic lights are out
954 Pumpkin bread baking
963 Worries turned into prayers
971 My paramedic neighbor
972 All those who worked 24 hour shifts through the storm
974 Search and rescue teams
977 Last day events
980 A Louisiana water thrush
982 Wearing moccasins together
991 Talking to Shama on the phone
998 Stories of deliverance
999 Peace in the night
1000 This moment

Saturday, March 5, 2011

Slow growing...

"What do you think I am - an invalid?" Thrusting my feet down I forced the wheelchair to an abrupt halt, "I can walk just fine. My blood pressure would have to be lower than 88/60 for me to pass out. Trust me!"

"Caitlin! The nurse said you have to!"

"I'm going to walk." I snapped, gathering up my water bottle, purse, and orders for IV fluids. I stepped to the side and headed for the entrance. Shaila in a puddle of exasperation.

"Are you done with that wheelchair?" I heard a grandmotherly woman sweetly ask. Shaila nodded resignedly and turned to follow me.

"You're just like Papa!" She fumed, referring to my grandfathers' legendary obstinacy, "And I don't mean that to be a compliment!"

Ignoring her comment I trudge to the low wall outside the drop off for the cancer center and sit down, suddenly cold from the wind and weaker then I would admit. I knew I needed to budget energy for walking into the infusion center on the other side of the hospital.

"You can just pick me up when you drive by."

And I shivered grace-less. Sick. Stubborn. Rude... Again.

And I sat on cold stone and spat truth at myself. Each time I journey into grace to learn His footsteps I circle back to the same spot of ungratefulness. Hurting those I love the most and barricading myself with pretended self sufficiency.

Forgive me, for I know what I am doing. It is not what I want - nor His wish either.

But this I still seek: to "grow in the grace and knowledge of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ." 2 Peter 3:18

Growing is slow.
Grace beautiful.

And His Love is more stubborn then I can ever be.

For this - I am so grateful.

Wednesday, February 23, 2011

Here. . . is worship

Newly turned earth under my green running shoes crumbles away from my steps and I wonder why in the shadow of the house I thought to go back for a scarf. Unlayering, I pause for my tremoloing heart to slow.

Fresh air carries sunlight into my lungs and I grin back at the mountain behind me, and then turn to the half a mountain yet to climb. The new trail blends into an old switchback. I've walked this one once before a long time ago when Alice and I meandered long about life, love, and God.

My feet climb steady again. And I smile, remembering children feet flying along bluffs and fields and the blue of mountain ridges framing their world. An echo of the same color in the mountains that surround these hills. Sun fills my eyes as I top the trail breathless.

Sheer beauty flung as far as my eyes can see. The hearty wind dries my joy tears before they can spill far and tosses the crows higher into the updraft from the valley floor. They soar and dive and chase each other into the sun. Laughter spins me too - to be here again! On this trail my heart knew so well. To breathe in this 360 view once more - to be alive!

I try to memorize it all over again with my eyes. From rock to rock I travel along this bridge between worlds until I find a perfect granite perch in the sun. Folding up, face into the wind, I drink long and silent.

Emptying myself of words.

Tuesday, February 15, 2011

One Thousand Gifts


Last week I read the book "One Thousand Gifts" by Ann Voskamp. An exquisitely written journey of learning gratitude in ordinary, mundane, and even in the hard places that fill our earth days.

In response to pondering these insights, I have been writing a list of 1,000 blessings to enhance my awareness of His love. It has been delightful! There is a joy in acknowledging the beauty around me that I often rush past, and writing them down is a way to say Thank-you! I am surrounded by the symphony of His love - expressed in these - and so much more!

Here is a sampling from my journal:

1 Morning Sunlight on my face
5 That my cancer is only stage III
7 Sky puddles spring blue
9 Pussy-willow velvet
10 A new palm frond opening
14 A hemoglobin of 13
15 Wearing wool warmth
16 Chickadees wiping their beaks
17 Last years leaves underfoot
28 Breathing
30 Early stillness
37 Spring taste in snow peas
46 Jennie's cooking
49 Strength to clean up supper
50 Breath to climb the hill
55 New fallen snow
57 Sore legs, muscles building
58 Luscious raspberries
59 Snow dust dancing
63 White tissue paper and raffia
70 Christy hugs
72 Planning surprises under the sink
75 Sabbath
76 Balsam Wreath Candle
83 Violin cello medley
85 Guitar songs by Timothy
86 Wooden frog calls
87 Ivan's humor
88 Daddy's laughter
92 Friends filling the house
96 Close harmony
97 Nana's prayers
100 Joel's visit
101 Sudanese children singing praises
108 Wind in my hair
109 Squirrels tumbling through leaves
111 Mrs. Eller's faith
115 Cardinal's sunrise song
117 Prismed light on cupboards
120 Eyes to breath in wonder
124 Roses from Daddy
124 Picnicking along the Tennessee River
128 Windy Ridge-tops
131 Megan's voice like island sunshine
134 Rest for the journey
135 Kelsey's gift of beautiful music
138 Elgar Enigma variations - Nimrod
137 Hayden string quartet in C, Op. 76
139 Cards from cousin Zeb's 5th grade class
140 Laughing so hard I cried
141 Her rendition of the 23rd Psalm
143 Rutter's choral compositions
145 Nathan hugs
146 Dramatic exclamations by Christy
147 Parrot feet on my neck
150 One more walk with Christy Joy
153 For the color purple