Remember

Sometime tonight, a quiet battle reared its head. 
A battle for me alone, that no one else could sense,
but was brewing uncomfortably within.

It started with an uneasiness that quickly transformed into straight up discouragement and bitterness. I was taken back to a place that I used to settle into: 
When anger and injustices flared my peaceful demeanor, when I felt tense in my own skin. 
When the conflict-avoiding me struggled to fight the battles both inside and on the outside. 
It was a personal area of past vulnerability, like a wound, that was uninvited but revisited and laid out in front of me. Like an ugly laughter, questioning my identity, my worth, my faith-grown confidence. Silent defensiveness. 
(Apparently that past vulnerability was still very much present.)

My jaw set, brows drawn tight, my eyes must have flashed. 
Not toward any one person in particular, but the anger arose at the frustration of being taken back down "that" road again. Not wanting to go there. But being carried away, as though being pushed forward down "that" path.

It felt like a battle. 
Almost a battle to stay afloat. 
One that offered a choice, if only I could pull out of myself and see it:

Whether to continue to tread those murky, 

dangerous, volatile waters of the past

OR

Whether to bring my head up 

and take a breath 

and be freed from the pull of the dark

This journey of depression and discouragement through different seasons of my life has so very defining. For better or worse, it is part of me. 

And I do not want to go there. Back into those waters. Not if I can help it!

Strange. That somehow an inadvertent comment or inconspicuous circumstance can suddenly plunge my much-sought-after peace and security into a undercurrent of questioning. Into the sludge of darkness where it is so easy to stay stuck.

As I closed my eyes and grasped to steady my wild thoughts, I was gently reminded of my bookshelf. One particular shelf, where my treasures rest.
Those books and journals that have touched me and have continued to shape me as I continue down the sometimes unsteady path of this life. 
Those books that have been lifesavers and challengers and beautiful gems... if I had to distinguish those that have given me such growth and hope and joy, these would be it:

Something about simply opening my eyes and focusing on that collection of book bindings gave me pause. 
And gave me that gentle-yet-firm push:
To not throw away those beloved truths and gifts from writers along the way.
REMEMBER...
Life of gratitude. 
Grace that abounds. 
Abide in Him. 
Trust His promises. 
Beauty in surrender. 
God's presence in the daily. 
God's perspective and purposes. 
God's design for me: unique and specific.

...To not allow the momentary struggles and lapses of confidence and peace to wipe away the hard won steps up that mountain. 
The mountain of Hope. And of Light.
REMEMBER LIGHT.

"You are to me a promise that even in the midst of the pain

God is near and faithful and I will turn to Him again."

(Liz Hupp)

Oh, how difficult this life can be. And how desperately I do not want to go sliding back down to those terrains of turmoil and fear.
But there IS Hope. And there IS Light.
I just need to be reminded of this.
REMEMBER LIGHT.

There will be some days when you reach for that simple comfort of your warm cup of coffee, only to find it empty... You want more, you hoped for more, you needed more. But the cup is empty. Reminds you of your neediness.

Then. There will be those days when your cup of coffee is all prettied up: whipped cream and caramel drizzle. And not only that, you have a cinnamon scone to enjoy. Unexpected. Much anticipated. Reminds you of your joy.

Life does present such a balance, doesn't it?

The nights that bring those dark clouds carrying fear and vulnerability.
And the nights when the darkness kept outside your window provides you with a sense of security.

The days when the water is choppy and uncertain.
And the days when the water shines and refreshes. 

Much of this remains a choice to us: 
The freedom to choose which way to see the night. 
The freedom to choose which way to see the waters.

"Now this is the message we have heard from Him and declare to you;

God is light, and there is absolutely no darkness in Him."

(1 John 1:5)

Not trite. Not easy.
But learned. And relearned.

REMEMBER LIGHT.

Each choice offers a world of possibility, with clear consequences for our choice. 

"Believing in suffering is a dead end.

Believing in the Sculptor is a living hope... 

I want to see the sculpture finished."

(Joni Eareckson Tada, "When God Weeps")

"For if you should see a man shut up in a closed room, 

idolizing a set of lamps and rejoicing in their light 

and you wished to make him truly happy, 

you would begin by blowing out all of his lamps; 

and then throw open the shutters to let in the light of heaven."

(Samuel Rutherford)

These are the ramblings of this girl, just trying to sort out the thoughts in her head and syncing them with the burdens of her heart... 

and hoping that somehow your own mind and heart will be prompted or comforted or challenged as you as you read these words?

These words have been a kind of mantra for me these past few months... 

"We go bravely into battle knowing He has won the war."

(Dustin Kensrue, "It is Finished")

REMEMBER LIGHT.

Blessings,

Elizabeth

Chronic into Gold

I have a disease.

(It sounds dramatic to say, but it’s my reality.)

I used to not share about this too much.

I used to not take it too seriously.

I appreciated a diagnosis. I was relieved to be given a definable reason for the way I was feeling and looking.

Hypothyroidism and Hashimoto’s Thyroiditis

A quick explanation of Hypothyroidism:

=Underproduction of thyroid hormones. The thyroid gland is part of the endocrine system that produces hormones that coordinate many of your body’s activities: they maintain the rate at which your body uses fats and carbohydrates, help control your body temperature, influence your heart rate, and help regulate the production of proteins. (Mayo Clinic)

=Since your body’s energy production requires certain amounts of thyroid hormones, a drop in hormone production leads to lower energy levels. (WebMD)

A quick definition of Hashimoto’s Thyroiditis:

=Autoimmune disorder where the body attacks thyroid tissue, which eventually dies and stops producing hormones. (WebMD)

Some of my main symptoms through the years:

Fatigue.	Thinning hair.	Depression.
Energy drain.	Weight gain.	Forgetfulness.
Difficult to “connect the dots.”	Trouble recalling words/terms/vocabulary.	Slow-processing.

When I was first diagnosed, I thought:

“Hmm. I have to take a pill a day for the rest of my life. Forever. Not great. But, I gotta do what I gotta do.”

I couldn’t truly understand the implications of what I was facing.

Until.

Big issues arose and crashed into my monotony of daily pill-taking. It has taken me several years to even reach the point where I am today in resolving the complications.

And now, with 7+ years of my diagnosis under my belt, I can recognize pretty clearly the severity of symptoms when my levels are off. BOOM.

I am in constant a battle with myself:

My desire for perfection and completion in my days

VS.

My extreme fatigue and oftentimes despair at my slowness of abilities.

My forgetfulness and fogginess of thought often result in mounting frustration with myself and the appearance of being “ditzy” that I often try to laugh off (but inwardly I loathe).

And add in 3 children. Boys. 6 and under.

Boys that are very young and very active and very needy…

(Although, this RARE image below of stillness and peace quiets my soul!) :)

My energy abilities and mental clarity is very obvious.

And both are suffering.

Daily life is the struggle.

…Let alone a hobby or anything to “show” for myself. Boo.

Gardening?

Nope. I wish I could.

Exercise?

Outside the daily running after kids? Ha.

Volunteering?                                                                

Not too much.

Cooking gourmet meals?                                              

Not right now.

Taking the kids to the pool in the afternoons?          

No way.

Scrapbooking, painting, drawing?                            

Not in this season...

Carrying out goals, like work on our basement?         

I wish. Someday?

Accomplishing these kinds of activities don’t even show up on my radar, until I learn of someone else’s accomplishments, and then I feel less-than.

This fight is something I’m attempting to be conscious of each day: 

The longing (even jealousy) of other’s natural amounts of energy and motivation and drive.

I have often thought: The spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak. Sometime the spirit ain’t even willing. Then it’s just a losing battle!

I fake having energy. I pretend I have it. And sometimes that is convincing enough for my own self. And maybe even you.

Then I crash, exhausted at home. So worn down and weak and foggy. Yet I DO NOT want to stop my efforts to be OUT THERE and try.

With the recent help of a dear friend who is a fellow struggler in this daily journey, I am learning to:

Try to accept my limitations.

Try to give myself myself grace.

Try to give myself freedom to turn down social opportunities (when I used to try to accept all and do all).

I’ve continued to learn more. From websites, from doctors, from specialists, from fellow thyroid disease sufferers, from a facebook support-and-education group “Thyroid Sexy.” That helps. 

(I must acknowledge my amazing family doctor, Dr. Veltri. He listened to me at my very first appointment with him, back in 2007, when I couldn't stop crying, when I felt awful, when I was gaining crazy weight, when I couldn't get pregnant. When I was a MESS. And he immediately took a series of blood tests and provided me with the key to the mess going on inside me. And he has been faithfully dedicated to keeping me healthy and educated and balanced these past years. THANK YOU.)

I have learned things about myself through the years:

• Writing helps me remember what I hear so I can tangibly recall the words and meanings later.
• Writing helps me process so I can internalize what would otherwise evaporate outside of my memory. (This is why I write down so much in my journal or in notes to myself.) (This is why I can express my thought worlds better in writing that in words aloud.)

But He said to me, "My grace is sufficient for you, for power is perfected in weakness." Therefore, I will most gladly boast all the more about my weaknesses, so that Christ's power may reside in me.

(2 Corinthians 12:9)

I am often emptied.

Yet needs abound. Responsibilities await.

“Your emptiness is but the preparation for your being filled,

and your casting down is but the making ready for lifting up.”

(Charles Spurgeon)

So please, give me grace (and grace for others and yourself, with visible or invisible chronic conditions).

Grace for:

• forgetfulness.
• absent-mindedness.
• being slow to connect the dots.
• desiring to be available, but the battle to follow through.
• anxiety to please others, but on a “low tank."
• impatience with declining abilities.
• sometimes being self-focused.

May I be compassionate to YOUR story and YOUR needs.

May God fill in the gaps where I am not enough.

When I am empty, Lord, fill me…

“The Lord longs to be gracious to you;

He rises to show you compassion.”

(Isaiah 30:18)

I desire for results, for an impact.

I desire to make each day count.

I love it when my pen flows, when my fingers fly on the keys.

BUT. It is not about ME.

I am a fragile-yet-sturdy piece of clay, being shaped and formed and gently crafted. Or also sometimes felt severely? I am a rock that will soon be revealed as gold.

"But He knows the way I take;

When He has tried me, I shall come forth as gold.”

(Job 23:10)

“How will you know when the gold is purified?

The refiner answered, “When I can see My face in it, it is pure.”

(Robert J. Morgan, “The Promise”)

Emptiness can be beautiful. Pain can be beautiful.

=

Leads you to recognize your need for strength.

=

Brings humility and the deepest grace.

=

Gives the gift of sweetest appreciation

for the seemingly mundane and ordinary joys.

You see,

Some days I feel light and airy and ready for action.

I APPRECIATE THIS WITH JOY.

But many other days I drag.

I am under my own burden of expectation.

I struggle against myself, my abilities, and the world around me that rushes so, that accomplishes much. That runs on a full fuel tank. That can follow through with intentions.

I am accepting (or am at least on my way to accepting!) that this is God’s plan for me.

His unexpected “gift” in this life of mine:

-To remind me of my need.

-To remind me of the joys that ARE the big deals. 

(Not the accomplishments of my day. But instead seeing the underlying blessings that are present, even when my mind is cloudy and weary.)

His gifts are everywhere.

And maybe, just maybe, my own journey of struggle and ongoing disease will allow me the opportunity to be a light to another who is on this similar path. That will make this worth it.  

“Every sorrow we taste will one day prove to be 
the best possible thing that could have happened.”

(Steve Estes, “When God Weeps”)

Until then?

One foot in front of the other. One day at a time.

And keep getting back up. Even on the hardest days. 

(And when down? Prayer. "It is hard to stumble when you're on your knees.")

Are you with me? With whatever load YOU are carrying. Whether physical or mental or emotional or circumstantial. Join me one minute at at time, and let's not give up hope.

Blessings as we continue on this journey of life,

Elizabeth

Missed chance.

Last night at a baseball game, a couple just a few meters ahead of us caught my eye. And throughout the game I quietly observed their interactions. 
They were near my age.
Loving, sweetly affectionate, comfortable with each other.
Their young son switched whose lap he sat in. 
They ate ballpark snacks. 
They dressed like you and me.
They watched the game and laughed together. 

Somehow, these strangers' lives drew me in and I began to wonder about them, wishing I could sit down next to them and have a conversation. Connect on a deeper level. 

Why?

He was quadriplegic and in a wheelchair, she had functioning in her limbs and served as his hands, arms.
She raised the food to his mouth for him eat, held the cup for him drink; she grabbed the concessions, she helped guide his chair through the crowds.
The whole time, they laughed, they encouraged, they chatted.
Their boy sat in his lap, his daddy's arm around him. 
The man's arm sometimes gently around her shoulder.

I just really appreciated them. I enjoyed them. Their devotion, their relationship. At least from what I could see outwardly. A peace, an energy. Life. It was so attractive. Their difficulties and the obvious needs between them didn't overshadow or draw attention. It was their love.

As we left, they were a few steps ahead of us. It was a packed crowd, but still we remained steadily paced behind them. I felt a nudging to talk to them, to smile. To tell them how much I appreciated their family's interactions between each other. Their positive, loving gazes, conversations, touches. I hesitated: how would a stranger take another stranger's words? Yet I felt that longing to connect. To bless with encouragement.

Torn: risk or keep silent.

I've gotten better as I've gotten older. More bold, more assertive. More open and friendly.

Sometimes too much? Uncomfortable to others? Asking questions that are too personal? I care so much. I know there are "lines" and "boundaries", but I just wonder and care and long to hear stories. Real stories. Transparency.

Back to the story...
We continued next to that couple as we left the stadium. I smiled. She smiled back. The crowd pushed along. I chickened out. I said nothing. Even seconds after the opportunity was lost, my gut felt heavy and I felt I'd missed a chance.

To risk in order to possibly bless. 
To give in order to possibly bless.
The possibility of blessing? (What is better...)
And I missed that chance.

Years ago I heard a woman from my church, Jean, telling a story. 
About how she planned to write a letter to another lady who needed encouragement, who had been hurting. But time passed. And Jean never wrote the letter. Time passed. The hurting lady did receive a letter from someone entirely different. Eventually Jean heard from that lady how much the received letter meant to her. How much those woman's words met a need, filled a void with love and warmth. And Jean missed the chance. She didn't get to be the giver of a blessing. And still today, she regrets. But, she learned. When an instinct hits, when an idea stirs: Act.

How often I can relate to this. Can you? 
Desire to do, but then life passes. 
Maybe it is not always our time, our job, our responsibility. 
But, how often do we miss out?

This couple from last night, those strangers... 
I did not risk the chance to perhaps make them smile, feel valued, experience unexpected blessing.
And I wish I would have spoken.

"Why do I blow everything, again and again?
Will I ever be who I already am in Christ?
...I don't know where time goes. Why do I obliviously slam the holy moments with frustration? Why resist the sacred beauty that falls unannounced?"
(Ann Voskamp)

I want to grow.
Grow fruit. 
Mature.
Beautify.

To glorify my God, my Creator. To live each day with purpose, to bless. 
That calling.

"Do you remember when I said, “Whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for Me?” (Matt. 25:40) “And if anyone gives even a cup of cold water to one of these little ones who is my disciple, truly I tell you, that person will certainly not lose their reward?” (Matt. 10:42) 

Do you not see it here Child? 

All these days you live at home to serve this fragile child, 

what you really are doing is serving Me. For whatever you do unto her, you do unto Me. 

So let me ask you? Am I enough? 

What is My worth to you? In the secret places, where no one sees? 

Look deeper Dear One. Can you find Me in this place? In her face? 

Every diaper, every clean, dry pair of clothes, cups of water, Cheerios, all the laughter, every tear, each soothing whisper in her ear, soothe Me with your lullaby. In doing so, you so clothe Me, feed Me, hear My cry."

(http://barrentobeautiful.wordpress.com/2014/05/23/am-i-enough/)

Let us go and bless others. Strangers. Friends.

Who are you thinking of today...?

Blessings to YOU,

Elizabeth