Meet Me In Heaven

Her Christmas letter arrived this week, filled with news I'd already heard, but with a few more details not included in the prayer chain emails.  Since the first email came out I've thought of her often, usually whenever I hear someone say the word "cancer."  And I desire to touch base again...just one more time.

She and her husband opened their home to me almost ten years ago.  I learned to play guitar in their basement (for which they each deserve extra saint points), and watched her play dolls with the older granddaughter while I held the baby.  She let me use her kitchen to cook and bake, and would set a third place at the table so I could be a part of their meals.  I spent many evenings in their living room, simply enjoying their company.

We sat together on a sofa in the church foyer during an evening meeting, each soul present for the other as our beloved church body crumbled to the ground and nearly died.  Years later, when I returned for a visit at a church bonfire, she looked at me and said, "Do you even recognize this church anymore?  We are so much healthier now!"

Only a couple of years ago I sat behind her toward the front of the sanctuary as her church family prayed over her for healing from a cancerous spot on her lung.  After surgery, she received a clean bill of health and made an excellent recovery.

Now she faces Stage 4 colon cancer that has spread everywhere.  Chemo made her too sick, so she has chosen to forego the treatments in order to enjoy the life she has left.  My friend, with her sweet smile and gentle touch, beautiful on the inside and out, bravely staring death in the face.  Such a precious and valuable asset to the body of Christ.

Dying is a part of this life.  Sometimes death is easy to push aside, to not think about.  But when death hovers nearby, it has a way of bringing new perspective to life.  When it becomes personal, something happens inside.  The important things in life suddenly shine a little brighter.

I am sad to know my friend is dying.  But she loves Jesus and awaits the moment He takes her home.  There is a beautiful mystery in the death of a believer.  Where there is sorrow, joy abounds all the more.  Where there are tears, there is also gladness.  Where there is sadness, rejoicing pours forth.  Where there is an end, hope begins.  When death becomes personal and takes the dear saints from my life, my heart hurts and I cheer them on as though cheering runners crossing the finish line.  My soul cries out with all its might as they take their last steps in this world and burst forth into eternity.  And I feel longing in the depths of my own being to be in their shoes, to burst forth into beauty seen by no eye and conceived by no mind.

Praise Jesus for making the way!  In the words of my friend, "Please make sure you will meet me in Heaven."

See you soon, Marcene.  Whether here or there, I will see you soon.

Letter to Me

Writing this post was easy.  Making it public has been hard.  I've been sitting on it for a few weeks now, not quite able to hit "publish" because I know who will read this, and leaving myself this exposed feels too risky.  But stronger than that is my belief that this piece of my story will resound with many people.  I have seen first-hand how many others have been in or are in a place similar to mine; to share my heart gives them a voice they may have not yet found and makes their places feel not quite as lonely.

The idea of writing a letter to my younger self came after a dear friend had the privilege of contributing to a new book called Letters to Me.  I have not yet read the book or any excerpts (if I did, I think I would be intimidated enough by "real" writers to never ever publish this post), so I don't know exactly how those letters will flow.  I do know that my own letter is written to myself at the point in time I may have benefited most from reading it.
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To my 17-year old self,

You are about to make a decision that will set the course of your heart and affect you for many years.  I wonder, if you could know the things at 17 that you will know at almost 30, if you would still make that decision.  And I wonder how different my heart and life would look now were it not for this journey you are about to begin.

If I could tell you all the lessons I've learned over the past twelve years, this is what I would want you to know:  dieting is about control, and you like control.  Losing weight feels good, and nothing feels better than jeans that have become too big.  When people compliment you on your weight loss it will boost your confidence, but those compliments also raise the bar of your expectations.  No matter how much weight you lose it will never be enough.  A shrinking waistline is not perceivable by your eyes.  The mirror you look into will always reflect curves too wide, features too ugly, a body too imperfect.  All your diets will eventually come to an end, and none of the results you worked so hard for will stay.  In fact, each time you diet you will gain back more weight than you lost.

A few years from now you will consciously walk into the biggest battle of your life.  You will take on the ultimate diet, and for a time you will succeed.  But you will measure success by the size of your jeans rather than victories won in the spiritual battle for your heart.  It will be a long battle, one that rages on even after you start eating again.  Because really, the issue isn't about food or weight loss or physical beauty. Your perception of those things is so very skewed, and they manifest because they reflect the deeper wounds that have sliced into the innermost places that are known not even by you.

What you seek is acceptance and unfailing love, and you look to the approval of others to make you complete. But even the best of what others can offer is tainted and limited by the flesh. Only One is able to fill you to overflowing, and oh how He loves you!  If only you could know how deeply this love satisfies, that all else pales in comparison...but I don't know how to tell you that to its fullest, because even now I haven't learned how to let Him be all.

I don't know how to tell you to learn the lessons without first experiencing the consequences.  I think maybe it's a road you will have to stumble down, because you can't get the to the end result without making the journey that leads you there.  There are things now that I wish you would have done differently then.  But it's those things you've done that are the building blocks of who you've become.  Right now you wish you could be anyone else.  But that will change.  One day you will be glad to be you.

So, young one, search for God's love and approval above all else.  If you lose sight of that, you will lose who you are.  You will find the friendships you've always longed for, and soon.  There are many friends you will make along each segment of your journey, and they will become very dear to you.  In fact, one day you will realize how many of these special people are in your life and wonder how God ever saw fit to bless you so richly.

Always always ALWAYS pray.  Never stop, even when you reach those months and years that become the darkest and most difficult.  You will make it through, and He will restore and redeem your broken places.  You are valued, loved, and beautiful.  Hold tight, child.  Hold tight to Him.

Case Study: The Long-Term Effects of Kinesio Tape on Hallux Valgus - Week...I Don't Know Anymore

There is a reason I have not pursued a career in research, and I think this post is a clear demonstration as to why.  I started conducting my own little research project somewhere around a year ago, ended it in January, and am just now getting around to writing the follow-up.  If you were reading along before and need a refresher course, you can read the first post here, the second post here, and the third post here.

Let's see...so as of the last post I had been taping my toes for 7 wks.  I believe I continued taping for only another one or two weeks, because it was about that time I noticed my big toes feeling sore, especially on the right.  That toe started to look swollen and slightly red, so I decided to stop taping altogether.  I also realized that my big toenails were no longer growing; in fact, the last time I'd trimmed them was three months prior, but all the other toenails were growing on schedule.  

My toe pain finally simmered down, but then in April the right one flared up again.  It got super red and puffy and had every sign of infection.  So I ignored it.  It was originating from the nail bed, which was odd since I had no skin breakdown or lacerations to the area.  After about two weeks of that, the infection finally cleared up, and I started to lose my toenail.  I've never lost a nail before, and my toe had suffered no trauma or ingrown anything.  The nail just simply died and started to grow out.  There was some new nail trying to grow, but it wasn't moving very quickly.  By probably July-ish the dead nail was halfway grown out, and I accidentally snagged it on something and ripped off what was left.  Ouchie.  But that healed up and now - nearly November - I have about 3/4 of a toenail and it seems to still be filling in.  I'm relieved for that, because I thought I'd  never have a normal looking nail again.  Not that I'm vain about the appearance of my feet, but the once a year (or two) I decide to French tip my toenails, it's kind of nice to have something to tip.

My theory on the toenail weirdness is that the pull of the tape over the top of the nail affected its ability to grow out normally, which somehow messed with the nail bed and caused it to stop growing altogether.

As far as the measurements go, I re-measured again this summer, and my valgus angles were back to where they were before I started taping.  Therefore, my conclusion is this:  Kinesio tape will help improve the angle of hallux valgus, but not as a long-term solution.  I have heard from two people that the tape offered relief from pain they were having from hallux valgus, so I believe it is also an appropriate method for managing symptoms and pain related to this condition.  But I would advise caution with constant and repetitive taping over time based on what happened to my toenail.

This brings me to the official end of my case study.  (Whew.  That's a relief!)

Seasons of Change

Typically the view from the windows at work isn't all that exciting.  But when fall shows up, I will boast of one of the best views in town.  The trees outside these windows turn the most brilliant shades of red, yellow, and orange.  With a backdrop of gloomy gray skies and green pines, the colors nearly glow.  This morning, however, gale-force winds showed up and the trees are steadily losing their magnificent color-blankets.  The bare branches poking out from the tops tease about the fast-approaching winter, and I mourn the passing of an all-too-brief fall season.

I watch the leaves fly and am reminded at how quickly - and regularly - life changes.  And this reminder parallels words from my Bible study:  The life of a Christian is never about sameness.  It's always about change.*  Change will happen, and it's necessary.  Without it my relationship with the One who loves me will not deepen.

Oh, how I balk at change.  I do not like for my consistency and order to be jumbled and shifted.  I do not like to face the unknown, and I certainly do not like to lose that which I hold dear because losing hurts.  I fear change because I fear pain.

Recently I traveled back to my second home in South Dakota, and with each familiar sight and street and face I felt the subtle stab of homesickness.  Each time I've gone back I've asked myself, "What have you done?  Look at what you gave up!"  I left dear friends and happy places and a town that feels more like home than anywhere else.  I want that home back.

But I have good things where I am now.  I have a job I love, and that is something I appreciate and grip tightly.  I have friends here who have become very dear, and slowly this new place is becoming home.  More than anything else, I have a new freedom.  I look back and I miss dearly what I used to have.  But when I see path God has led me on this past year and I notice how much He's grown me, I recognize some of the chains that used to hold me captive because of where I used to be.  He brought me away from what I had, and as a result I am no longer held captive by these chains, and the freedom is sweet.

I have meditated on these things lately, and as I watch the autumn-chilled winds wipe the beauty from the trees, I feel a mix of sadness, yet surrender, in knowing that the winds of life will blow again.  Sooner or later the beauty I experience now will be removed to make room for the next season, and through His miracle of life, God will grow me in ways that I cannot imagine.  Maybe it will be painful, or maybe not.  Either way, it will be good.  And while I may look back and miss what I have now, He is faithful to fill to overflowing the blessings of those who are faithful to Him.

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*Quoted from Breaking Free by Beth Moore.

Weary

Forgiveness and grace and reconciliation and love your neighbor and pearls before swine...the words spoken into my mind and heart this week, life-themes swirling around me lately like dancing wisps, sometimes pushing me through the day, other times taunting me.  I try to live them out, only to have my efforts rejected.  So time after time I watch circumstances settle back into the same rut, back into the same place and position and order they came from.  And it seems as though I'm the only one who notices.

I remember watching a friend in a similar place not that long ago.  She sought counsel, and I remember the words spoken to her:  If you start praying, things will get worse before they get better.  And it was true.  It was true for her, and it seems to be true for me.  I pray for souls and hearts, for Godly leadership and for change.  And I see nothing happening.  Except that I know something is happening because it's feeling worse.  So I trust that the forces in the spiritual realm are moving, just beyond the sight of my earthly eyes, and I cling to hope that their movement will spill over into the physical and finally change will happen.

This battle is not against flesh and blood.  I try to wield my sword, but the lines of black and white have muddled together into gray, and I no longer know where to stand and fight.  I'm tired of fighting.  The gray is thick enough that I cannot see if others stand with me...or if I stand alone.  I want to be done and walk away, back into the safety of black and white and easy and comfortable.  But I can still see enough past the gray to know that walking away means I lose.  And the prospect of losing what I have is enough to keep me from backing down.

Perseverance must finish its work, and I must let it or I have gained nothing.