Dad's Surgery

Two weeks ago,

As a result of a scheduled scan,

My dad learned that he had a large

Aortic aneurysm

That would need surgery.

 

His surgery is scheduled for tomorrow.

 

If all goes well,

The procedure will be laparoscopic,

He will only be in the hospital for one night,

And the recovery process will be a few weeks.

 

We are praying that all goes well,

But we are aware how precarious surgery is at 82.5 years old. 

 

To say that things have been tense around the house is an understatement. 

As much faith as he has,

As much as he’s certain of eternity, 

As much as he believes in and trusts his doctors, 

My dad is still stressed, 

Being able to do nothing to fix himself

In the waiting, 

Worrying about what is to come, 

Not because of doubt in God 

But because he’s human and 

This is a big deal and 

Being put to sleep for surgery 

Causes one to face one’s own mortality. 

 

We have no idea how long he has had the aneurysm. 

It has evidently been getting larger for quite some time. 

Without knowing it,

My dad has been walking around with a ticking time bomb that could have exploded within the year.  

So we are thankful that one thing led to another led to another that led to this diagnosis. 

And we are thankful that it can be repaired. 

 

But we are rightfully anxious and 

Open to all the warm thoughts, prayers, and well-wishes that we receive. 

 

I don’t know how prayer works. 

But something about knowing

That a community of people, 

Focused on something greater than self, 

Is coming together in common thought and desire 

Is a powerful thing. 

 

So here’s to hoping for a successful surgery and recovery

And that my dad comes out of what he has compared to going to the repair shop 

As good as new. 

 

Amen. 

  

And Yet God Was With Me

 

I had the privilege of helping lead a retreat this past weekend. 

Around 40 Lutheran women from NC gathered in Isle of Palms, SC, to talk about 

Making a Joyful Noise through Music, Worship, and Dance. 

My friends Jes, Carolyn, and Heidi (Not the Librarian) met on Wednesday nights for a couple of months, 

Logging around 75 collective hours of

Brainstorming, texting, reading, writing, making handouts, making lists, ordering supplies, practicing, and packing 

In order to be ready for the weekend. 

 

And we were ready. 

 

I was even ready to lead contemporary worship,

Which I hadn’t done in years!

 

And then I lost my voice.

 

Again.

 

This time, I went to the doctor.

I had another upper respiratory virus that had once again settled on my vocal cords. 

 

I prayed and prayed that God would heal me. 

I prayed and prayed that I would get better. 

I prayed and prayed that adrenaline would kick in and that I’d be able to sing. 

I prayed and prayed and prayed for a miracle. 

After all, I was trying to do God’s work.

 

I took Thursday off work to rest my body and voice,

I’m on high powered cough syrup, Tylenol, ibuprofen, and a steroid, 

But I’m still not completely well. 

 

And the retreat is over.

 

I don’t know why God acts when God acts 

Or why God doesn’t act when God doesn’t.

 

I don’t know why I had to experience a retreat, 

One of my favorite things in the world, 

On music and worship, 

Two of my favorite topics in the world, 

Not feeling my best and not having full voice. 

But I did. 

 

And now it’s up to me to respond.

To celebrate teamwork and compassion and sharing the load and silence and humility and movement—

All things of God that came to light and remain even in the midst of

The sadness and frustration that, 

If I’m honest,

I feel

Over not being at my best to lead.

 

God did not heal me of my upper respiratory infection in record time. 

God did not fix my voice so that I could sing.

But God was with me. 

And God, through time and medicine and rest, 

Is making me well. 

 

And God is doing the same in you too, friend.

Wherever you are, 

Whatever you’re going through,

God is with you.

And God loves you.

So very very much. 

 

Amen. 

The HeART of Healing

 

A couple of weeks ago,

I had the opportunity to lead a grief support group for a friend.

I was part of a series called the heART of Healing.

Since the event was during my weeks of no voice,

And since my main gig is music,

I had to think of something different to do…

So, I thought, why not blackout poetry?

After all, it HAS become my spiritual discipline.

 

Nervous to undertake the activity with a group,

I did my best to explain it.

In short, I said:

Think of the page’s words as your word bank.

You can keep the words in order in true blackout style,

Or you can use the words out of order and draw connecting lines in modified blackout style.

It’s up to you.

Just sit with the words and see what comes.

 

And they did.

 

And what came, I later found out, was beautiful.

 

One woman wrote and shared a poem about her grandson who died by suicide a year ago.

She doesn’t talk much about it.

It’s too hard.

But she found words on the page to express a bit of her grief.

She read aloud…

“That I could hug you one more time.”

 

Another woman saw only one phrase on the page.

She tried and tried to find something more,

But all she could see was…

“I couldn’t quit sobbing.”

In those words, she saw a reflection of her reality,

And she realized she needed help.

Uncontrolled depression had overwhelmed her.

She was drowning in her own tears but she didn’t realize it until

She saw it on the page.

She is now getting help.

 

And a man, a poet and musician,

Suffering from bi-polar disorder,

Who hadn’t really left his house in a month—

For whatever reason, came to the session.

He had never heard of blackout poetry,

Yet he connected with it and found a life-giving outlet.

 

Friends: I know that blackout poetry isn’t for everyone.

And that’s fine.

Blackout poetry isn’t really the point.

Creating is the point:

Working with God to express a thought, feeling, emotion, or reaction—

Working with God to make something not made before.

Poetry, song, fiction, blog, cross-stitch, crochet, knitting, macrame,

Watercolor, acrylic, pen, ink, tin, a coloring sheet, a garden…

Creating is a process.

It is healing and transformative.

Not everything will be a masterpiece.

But everything will be good.

Because you will have created with God,

Who called God’s creation good.

 

Oh God of Creation: Help us to create alongside you. And thank you for the heART of healing. Amen. 

One Of The Best Humans I Know

6.3.19—One Of The Best Humans I Know

I received a text today that surprised me. It said:

“You are one of the best humans I know.”

I won’t lie. Reading those words made me feel good. Knowing all of the not-so-good things that I think, say, and do, I have a hard time believing the statement. And yet, it feels good to know that someone thinks so highly of me that she has labeled me one of the best.

But that’s not all. The very next text said, “Top 3.”

Naturally, I wondered who the other two Top 3 people were, so I inquired to find out. When I did, I was truly humbled to be part of such a group.

On Saturday, three of the best humans that I know encouraged me to return to a place that changed me. For years, my dream was to work there and make its ministry my life. A few years ago, however, because of theological differences, I was asked to step away from my involvement with the ministry. The organization’s leader at the time told me, “It only takes one person to ruin an entire organization.” Evidently, that person was me, and so I was asked to leave. I did. But ever since, there has been a hole in my heart and a part of my spirit that has forgotten how to dream.

So going back Saturday was a big deal. Part of me wanted to go. The other part of me was afraid. Words are powerful weapons, and those weapons from years ago often still wound me. But I’m so glad that I went. Thanks to good humans, I was able to reconnect with old friends and walk sacred grounds where I once felt God’s presence more powerfully than anywhere in the world. Thanks to good humans, I was able to take one more step toward healing and letting go.

Who are the good humans in your life? Do you categorize them as such because of what they have done for you, because of the positive things they do for humanity, because of their nature and character, because of their faith, because of something else? If you had to make a list of your Top 3 “best” humans, then who would be on the list and why? Would you need to divide your list into periods of life—or increase it to 5, 10, or more?

I suppose that none of that really matters…as long as you’re simply thinking about the good humans in your life—as long as you’re remembering people who have made an impact on your existence—who still do—who have changed you for the better in some way—who have been God’s light to you in times of darkness. It’s easy to think about the “bad” humans—the ones who frustrate us—the ones who have hurt us—the ones who have squelched our dreams with their words. The “bad” people tend to often be topics of conversation in our lives. But what about the good ones? The ones who are best?

I want to challenge you to give your people a call this week, or, if you’re like me and don’t really like to talk on the phone, then send a text, or Facebook message, or, better yet, a real card/letter in the mail. Surprise them with the words that surprised me today: “You are one of the best humans I know,” and then tell them why. There is so much negativity in this world. So much hurt. So many differences that wound and separate. So much anger waiting to explode.

Yet just as three of the best humans I know encouraged me to take steps toward positive healing on Saturday, you, too, can encourage the people in your life with positive words. If it only takes one person to ruin an organization, then it only takes one person to change a life. Be that life-changer today. Be one of the best humans that you know.

Jeans for Julie

It’s ridiculous how happy jeans days make teachers.

Funding, legislation, timing, curriculum, programming, professional requirements, lack of respect, misperceptions, hefty demands, mountains of paperwork, and days of meetings can be discouraging.

Trying to please administration, colleagues, students, and parents can be downright crazy-making.

Doing all of this in fancy clothes day in and day out can be stifling—especially when your work requires your being on the floor, tying dirty shoes, playing on the playground, or wiping snotty noses.

So giving teachers the opportunity to wear jeans—to work in his/her comfort clothes—to do something special—well…it’s really nice.

Granted…we are asked to donate money to a good cause for most of these days: $2. [I’m reminded of scenes from the 80’s movie “Better Off Dead.” “I want my two dollars!”] But, somehow, still, it’s a privilege…

Especially when we know where the money is going.

My status this morning said, “While kids across the country are dressing up for Halloween and anxiously awaiting free candy, teachers at my school are dressing down for Thursday and happily giving money to support a coworker diagnosed with Leukemia. Halloween jeans have never felt this good.”

Shortly after school started, one of my coworkers was diagnosed with Leukemia. The diagnosis came out of nowhere and left many of us feeling punched in the gut. Our staff and students have responded with an outpouring of love through cards, visits, prayers, T-shirts, bracelets, and…jeans.

If you are reading this, I want to ask you to join me and the JES community in praying for Julie. She is a fighter. A woman of faith. A believer in miracles. A hoper in Peace. Pray for Julie’s healing of the body and spirit…and pray for the teachers in your life who give selflessly of themselves each day for hardly any money yet willingly give what they have for the simple pleasure of wearing jeans and supporting those they love.

Moments

During one of the darkest periods of my life, I wrestled myself to sleep each night. I tossed and turned to the point of exhaustion, knowing that God’s design for God’s children was not to be paralyzed by guilt, shame, and/or sadness.

In those moments, I often imagined Jesus walking into my bedroom, standing beside my bed with a look of deep love on his face as I struggled with my demons. Many times, I looked at him with tears pouring down my face and said, “I’m sorry. I’m so so sorry.”

In those moments, Jesus simply stood there. Full of love. Unwavering. Sometimes crying with me. Sometimes pouring compassion over me as I cried. Never judging me. Always letting me know that I wasn’t alone.

In these moments when I’m given the privilege to serve as chaplain, this is the image of who I want to be…this image and the image of Jesus laughing.

In these days of humble honor, I desire to be a chaplain who demonstrates a less-anxious presence. I desire to work with an energy level that feels alive, safe, warm, and welcoming, and I desire not to absorb the stress of the situations in which I find myself but to be fully present in them—feeling the emotions in the room but not getting stuck in them.

Last night, as I stood beside a friend’s daughter at Duke, I wept. The room wept with me. We wept for a body much too young to be shutting down. I wept for her newborn baby also struggling to survive. I wept because of the mysterious virus that is attacking their livers and for the uncertainty that their families and loved ones face. I stood there full of love for this young woman I barely know. Yet I know her mom. My love unwavering. Pouring compassion through my tears. Not judging. Praying for miraculous healing. Praying for Emily’s dreams to be filled with the certainty that she is not alone.

Will you join me in praying for Emily and Aiden—for God to do a supernatural work in their lives? Will you join me in praying for Diana and Oliver—for God to give them peace and strength as they spread their time between daughter and grandson, desperately clinging to life?

Will you imagine your own image of Jesus looking upon you (and others) with love? And will you celebrate these moments that you have been given to do the work God has called you to do?