Tears for a stranger

I read the blog of Mark Palmer. I have been praying for his wife and I mentioned her battle with stomach cancer in my last entry. When I got home from a meeting last night I checked in with his blog to see how the surgery to remove the cancer went. The prognosis is bad. They were unable to remove anything and have given her three months to live. I am heartbroken for them...But ,I know that Our Redeemer Liveth and has the last word on all things.

May the community of believers be praying for this young mother, her husband and friends and family.

Dark Night

I had a bad night last night, some call them dark nights of the soul I call them evil. I couldn't fall asleep so I began to pray for a woman undergoing surgery for ovarian cancer that has seeded to her stomach and another woman battling brain cancer. Their stories have touched my life and I was thinking of those who love them and asking the Lord to help them in these trials.

I finally fell asleep, I think, at about 2 am only to wake up at 3am in what I call one of my "episodes." They are really difficult physical and spiritual battles. It feels like there is an electrical current running through my body and I feel like my mind will snap and my thinking is very negative towards my self.

I tried to say the 23rd psalm but I could barely remember it and so, when it is that bad, I just pray, Have mercy on me Jesus. I eventually fell back asleep but had really bad dreams. And then I woke up at 7am.
Strangely enough, when I have bad nights and I finally am able to find refuge in sleep I am awakened by the early sunrise..it is very important for me to know the morning came after the dark night. I think it is similar to God's rainbow.

I have not had a bad night in such a long time and when it came I felt a little abandoned by the Lord. I was at a place where I thought that those nights would be behind me....... thy will be done......But here I am ; it is morning and I know that my Redeemer Liveth--

Those words kept pouring over my mind as I was praying for those women last night. One of them had said that during a time of worship the Lord had given her a vision into the deeper meaning her disease of cancer had for her family and community----I believe that this is the greatest miracle in our trials ...that the Lord himself is our vision and he is present----what a friend he is.

Though I walk ( and we all will walk) through the valley of the shadow of death I will fear no evil for you are WITH me; your rod and staff comfort me.

Jesus is called by God in Matthew; Immanuel...God with us. Though I don't like to be theological because I am so understudied, one teacher struck me when she said that Immanuel is a spiritual concept better described as the "with us of God." Jesus in his coming became and remains the very unique "with us-ness" of the Holy One, we can never be alone again....this concept hits the pavement when you are suffering. The greatest gift the Lord gives is his presence. It is also the greatest gift that people give to each other.

So, to the Great Shepherd I pray for those in the dark night that they will vividly sense in their hearts and minds the" WITH US "of God. Be our vision in all times sweet Jesus. Thank you for the things you choose to bring to us that cause us to see you and you alone.

I have a two part Blog today. I want to discuss a short story I read by Truman Capote. I then would lould like to offer an analysis and possible explanation of the phenomenon of blogging.

Truman Capote was one of the greatest American writers. I read his short story, "A Christmas Memory" and was blown away!! Forgive the hyperbole, but I would sell my soul to write like that. But of course, if you know anything about Truman Capote, he was a most tortured man ......most great writers have suffered very troubled lives.
But what i want to share is what a wonderful gift from God this literary rendevous was on one of my wobbly days.

I take my oldest daughter to group violin lessons every tuesday and they are held at the Las vegas Highschool Academy downtown. The lesson is held in what is probably an english/lit classroom and I often browse through the text books. SO, while all the little suzuki violin stars of tommorrow sawed their way through an Argentinian Tango, I curled up in the corner with a textbook on literature and began reading Capote. That story moved me, washed over me, took me away. A true sparrow moment!! God always brings this fragile mind the right medicine at the right time. It also amazed me that he places the most brilliant talent into the strangest and often most wretched vessels. I closed that book and was in awe of the mystery and transendence of how God comes through in the simple story of an intimacy of two individuals written by one of his most wayward creations. Please, if you have a chance and love good literature, read this story. And now this leads to my next thought on why blogging has crescendoed.

Have you ever noticed that a commonality with bloggers is that they begin their first blog with either the reason they are blogging or with the lack of knowing why they are.

The reasons are probably numerous but, I think the primary one is that reading the thoughts of another brings you to a focused intimacy with an individual more than if you were to hear their thoughts in a face to face conversation.....Too many distractions occur in this mode. You (or at least I do) find yourself looking at the tilt of their chin or notice they are beginning to develop bags under their eyes or worse yet, you think " are they seeing something in me they are repulsed by? Have I got something in my teeth?, my nose?, .....what's that smell ..... Oh my gosh my two year old just ate a cockroach!?. Needless to say, this puts a damper on hearing another's heart in any meaningful way.

And let's face it, the art of conversation is abyssmal in this society. We have become (since the television ) visual addicts not conversationalists, able to express thought in a meaningful way (read Neil Postman's" Amusing ourselves to death" or watch the movie "Avlaon)". The "individualistic--put the garage door--down --I been workin' all day--turn on my favorite sit-com" mentality has left us with not only a limited vocabulary but a communal lazziness. Thus, we may have developed a compensatory mechanism to this paucity of connectedness by blogging. We can focus on the individual that might intrigue and amuse us in a deliberate way and feel somehow that we have entered the sanctity of their life. Their thoughts can make us feel like we are not the only one with those ideas, fears or feelings. We can feel compassion, love, hate, or say," Yikes! I finally have discovered someone more screwed up than me!"

BUT, and I mean a big BUT , as my friend, Meghann, so truthfully expressed, and I believe she is a wise young girl with a healthy built in bullshi......detector, Why aren't we saying all these things to one another face to face---we know each other; hang out from time to time, what's the deal? We are talking but not on a deeper level. And I think she has a very important point. And this may be an answer:

When I was a dancer I wore a very small amount of fabric considered a costume and danced at times as close as two feet away from the audience. But it did not bother me because in show-biz there is "The Wall" that allows me to become someone else or remove a mask and reveal vicariously through a role, parts of my true self that may not go over too big at a Christian potluck. I think blogging provides this "Wall" for many. They have the time and privacy as well to formulate their thoughts/reactions at the end ,beginning or middle of their hurried-sick lives.

I also think blogging is a form of social foreplay and mental copulation---forgive me for the freudian observation but I think it is true. The greatest need of the human being is intimacy (to know and be known)---and all addictions and neuroses are caused by the dysfunctional and erroneous searches to fulfill this insatiable need created for only God to fill. So blogging is (i don't know if it is healthy but) a way of revealing things-----of saying, please know me, without the mask, in a deeper way and hey, I might even spell the word bullshit without suffering the scowl of my bible study leader......and if you reject me or disagree ,my "CyberWall" diffuses that sting.

----So there it is, altogehter too prolific and prosaic but an analysis of the possible blogging revolution ---or as one blogger has mentioned----It could be just a God thing.

I am feeling a little guilt now about the long- windedness, sexual connotations and expletive....I think I'll go play a board game with my girls. They have become louder as i have been writing--- a clear sign that I am indulging and they are not getting intimate attention from mommy. Kids are such great B.S detectors.

I have a mood disorder. It is a very mild form of bipolar disorder properly termed ,cyclothymia. I have had it since the sixth grade. I can even recall the moment when I became aware of it. My Mother has it; two of my aunts had it and my grandmother committed suicide. It is highly inherited and the stigma on people who suffer from it, is horrendous .....especially within the church. I think mental illness really frightens people and I can empathize with that. But, I also believe that mental illness, though a terrible thorn, can be the greatest blessing in diguise. It has become that for me. Jesus has proved his amazing sufficiency and revealed himself powerfully in some of the most dark hours. And paradoxically, having this mental weakness has made me more sane than most "normal" people I know. Things become very clear when you realize your mind is precariously perched on a thin wire and there is no safety net. You come to the serene conclusion that God is the catcher and your job is to close your eyes and reach out. I am so grateful for the compassion and creativity and mercy he has brought from it...I am much slower to judge and more obedient in prayer and trust.


I Am writing these thoughts down because I have, for the last three days, been feeling the pendulum swing from center (fairly normal for me) to the more active (manic) side. It usually begins with something in my sleeping. This time it has been intense dreaming. The dreams are always like movies...huge and the cinematography is incredible. The Lord has taught me how, through spiritual disciplines and professionals, to cope, learn and even be fruitful in this time. I try not to view it as an ABNORMAL state but I try to interpret through the eyes of the Lord and receive from him what he chooses to give. A very comforting thing I do when my mind becomes more active is to pray the 23rd psalm ceasleessly.

However, I was discouraged this a.m. because I reverted to fear instead when I woke up. I have not been praying and I was very verbally impatient with my family. I know when I lose control this way I tend to spiral into a very destructive thought pattern of guilt and despair. I remember so clearly what it was like to be mothered by a severe bi-polar and my greatest fear is to transfer that legacy to my family. The greatest challenge of someone with emotional illness is to be very aware of its effect on those you love. It can be devastating and without knowing it we may not only remain in the defeat of our thorn, but also teach others patterns of dysfunction. I was tempted to remain in emotional oblivion.

With the prodding of the Spirit ,I was able to pull it together enough to get to the gym; exercise has a medicinal effect on my moods. On the way home I watched a dove fly over and felt the familiar yearn I have, when this mood descends, to fly away..... to disappear from my suburban cage of domesticity and tameness. Just then, the sight of the mountains and the most beautiful mist over them came to view . In this picture, the quiet strength of God spoke to me. It made me long for Him and reminded me of Psalm 121:1-2. Today, I will endure.

I lift up my eyes to the hills---
where does my help come from?
My help comes from the Lord
the Maker of heaven and earth.


To the Great Lover of my soul....all glory and honor to you, Jesus... may I fly to your bosom when you call.

Meine liebe schwester

I am reading a book called The Cry of Spiritual Mothers and Fathers---it is an easy read and expresses sound wisdom. It brings to mind the relationship I have with my sister. I spoke to her yesterday before church. I truly love her.

My sister and I are spiritual mothers, especially to one another. We have been through so much together that we know exactly what to say or not to say to each other. Oddly enough, we were never close until much later in our lives . It seemed the pain and tumultuousness of our childhood and young adult lives caused a great chasm between us and it took years for each of us to heal on our own in our true Father's presence. I came to Jesus in my early teen years and she came to Him in her thirties. She is one of the most spiritually deep people that I know----she is a true mystic. I mothered her early in her formative Christian years and now she is my spiritual mother..... how wonderful is that!? We are not twins but we do speak a secret language. God is very fond of us. When I spoke to her yesterday I felt complete. I had fellowshipped with someone who truly loves me and accepts me as I am--------and boy.... has she seen me at my best and worst. She made my Easter with a few simple words and encouragements.

That is what a Spiritual Mother and Father really is; one who will continue with you because they believe in the reality of what they see beneath it all. They have looked with the eyes of the heart and chosen to believe in what God has placed there and the Holy Spirit is developing. They trust the work of The Trinity in your life; don't get annoyed; impatient or repulsed by you..... they endure; ask the right questions; provoke healthy thinking and emotion.....they value and love above all.
I always know when I have been around one of these people. I feel renewed.....valued.

There are a handful of people that I am drawn to nurture and encourage in my circle of life....it is strange, but I see wonderful things in them that I want to tell them. But most of all, I feel more led to proclaim to the spiritual orphans of the world that there is a Father so sublime who desires to express in the most winsome and tenderest of ways his love for them.... I believe that this is the only true and worthy message of a spiritual parent

In my mother role to my children I often find my self refereering the petty quibbling that takes place between my daughters----I persistently remind them that they will know each other longer that me or their father and that they will be even closer one day.....My greatest prayer for them is that they will fall madly in love with Jesus and will spiritually nurture one another like their Mommy and Auntie Lynn ( meine liebe schwester).

I thank you Jesus that there is a comfort that you provide through the nurture and love of those who have gone ahead and searched with honesty and learned in the crucible of pain and suffering how glorious it is to feed your lambs.

It is Easter morning and I am not in a consecrated building singing "Up from the Grave He Arose or doing an Easter egg hunt with multitudes of children competing for symbols that will be forgotten as quickly as eaten, or trying to make small talk with their parents about the weather,or worse, trying to discuss the most mysterious, transcendant event as the resurrection in some contrived christian vernacular.

Instead, I am sitting here after washing dishes, making tea, reading e-mail and listening to my husband do art collages with my daughters ( their new found passion). I must admit, it does not sound very reverent or traditional and I feel a twinge of guilt that I am not dressed up watching Gregg sing his would be solo, having some celebration of food and drink with friends and family and wondering what clever spin the seeker church will try to put on this magnanimous expression of God's love for his Son and creation. And yet, my heart is full.

In the last three years I have been ruined by the love of Jesus. This destruction was necessary and as I look back on some moments so painful and terrible in which I truly thought it possible to die from a broken heart I see, though not fully, the purposes in it. Resurrection requires death. Most of my life I have been trying to survive..live. Looking for my place...identity, blessing, healing and freedom , I now see i have tried to obtain them through people, my own anemic efforts, and low sense of value...And in some weird subconscious way, hoping all the while that God would relent to my feeble displays and adolescent demands out of pity or just his good nature and I would squeeze by into his kingdom unnoticed living invisibly among others and He would from time to time visit me and require little. But, the Lord so lovingly has crucified me and my very low expectations. He has recently in the silence and solitude made clear his very forward intentions and though they continue to take away my breath and life, I desire them.

I Believe it brings pain to The Father of the Heaven's when his children live their whole lives avoiding their own death ( as I often continue to do). We try to find the right bible study, message, community, ministry ,code of morals and principles to build upon a christian identity that has been passed on to us by other non-dead vessels or we create it ourselves with our own self-actualization---happiness or Legacyof Jesus as the end.

On this Easter morning sitting in my suburban excess in a country naked with abundance , through the memories of these last painful years ,I imagine my self as a dead person lying on the lifeless slab of my false-self ,sins and holy efforts. I feel and smell the shroud of personal failures and the coldness of those who have hurt and abandon me in vulnerable moments.
And yet, I hear the singing of birds outside this solitude of death, the wind blowing through the new greenness of leaf and blosom and a voice speaks my name so tenderly and quietly. My eyes open to see my Beloved One.. my Resurrector. His eyes deep and full, hair dark and annointed with oil and the incense of my prayers.... and he says," Arise my lovely one Arise." And I am alive to Him and Him alone.

So I will end this day by going to a ritual in honor of Jesus created by very young beloved's. I will not put my hope or expectation in that vessel, but I will keep in my mind and heart the face and reason for my true life. I will look at the soft cheek of my children as thay fidget and wonder of their place in this world and my husband as he expresses his path of worship....... and I will surrender them to a Love that is gloriously ruinous and fiercely life giving .

You see a Sunday of candy eggs,flowers, family,hymns, a ham or lamb, sentiments and seeker services of a cross and a grave and new membership classes are not the expession of the reality of this profound event. And these symbolic efforts, though pleasant, will only keep us clinging to delusions, and break the Father's heart until you allow him, in the way He desires, to crucify you and your false images so that in the most intimate place, He may look deep into your soul and call you from the tomb to your true life. May you never look back.

John 11:25" I am the resurresction and the life".....