Tag: Easter

Had to go “country” on this one

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Perhaps I killed the Easter bunny of 2020? I just can’t get her out of my mind . . .

Gardening with a dog keeps you more aware of your surroundings than on the tasks at hand. I have to call out for Elle every 10-15 minutes because I just don’t know where her sniffing will take her: to the pond behind us for a swim? Chasing after a young family pushing a stroller in the court? Saying “hello” to the neighbor boys cutting through someone’s yard? Rolling in goose crap? Or today, intently sizing up the nest of bunnies hidden in the vegetable bed!

Fortunately I was nearby when she decided to jump the wire fence and investigate the litter of baby rabbits in our vegetable bed up close. Then all hell broke loose! The 3 bunnies I saw scattered in 3 different directions while she dashed to and fro trying to catch one or all of them. It all happened so fast! “Elle get out of here!” I shouted only to find her jump out then jump back in again as I tried to free one of the furry creatures now strangled by the 1/2″ green chicken wire. I pushed its head backwards wondering if it would bite me? Elle grabbed onto a brother (or was it a sister?) trying to escape through the black metal fencing that enclosed the entire area; I lifted up the chicken wire and the weight of the bunny’s body below my hand broke it loose. By then I caught a glimpse of the 3rd sibling getting caught the same way just out of reach then breaking free and squeezing around the black fence post to escape the area. What mayhem ensued as the one now in Elle’s jaws squealed loudly!

Elle in hot pursuit at another time, for another cause.

I ran over to rescue it but it was too late. Probably only about 13 seconds had transpired at this point and the first one to escape had already been chomped by our German shepherd huntress. Elle often just plays around with the furry critters she finds in our yard, engaging in a terrifying-for-them and delightful-for-her game of catch and release. This time her usually soft grasp of her jaws had sheared the skin off of the back of the tiny rabbit which exposed the upper half of its pink and white spinal column. I was mortified! How grotesque! I really didn’t know what to do. The animal was suffering greatly so I shooed her captor away only to witness the little one struggling to run off into the bushes. “It’s going to run off to die,” I thought to myself and who knows what will happen after that: a turkey vulture will circle around and take her to dinner or more likely, Elle will find her and torture her some more. I knew what I had to do.

The blade of the shovel became a protective shell over her and from the menacing canine while I called out from the backyard, “Steve! Steve! Are you there?” I called for my husband in the house. He wasn’t there. I called for him in the shed. He wasn’t there. I called for him in the garage. He wasn’t there. Geez! He was just here a couple of minutes ago! Steve takes off as quickly as the dog sometimes when on a mission that only men can understand. But does he realize that his damsel is in distress and needs him RIGHT NOW?!

It was all I could do to keep Elle from going insane. I should have put her in the house but another reality came over me that took precedence: my dog, our dog had maimed a baby rabbit and it was suffering while I ran around to get someone else to take care of the matter. You know I grew up in a crowded suburb north of Detroit, Michigan, not in the country, right? You know that I barely shot a b.b. gun at a paper target as a kid and visited apple orchards for my “country” experiences. But somehow I knew that the right thing to do was to put the bunny out of its misery as soon as possible. I HAD TO DO IT. I couldn’t wait for Steve. The longer I waited, the more problems I would have with Elle and my conscience for our pup torturing the softest, cutest, fuzziest of God’s creatures now huddled in fear and taking its last breaths under a cold, steel coffin in our backyard.

I killed the bunny. I killed the baby bunny. I put the baby bunny out of its misery. I did what any country gal would do in a heartbeat without thinking about it and ended the whole ordeal. Then I went to try again to locate Steve. Just as I came around to the front of our house, he rolled up into the cul-de-sac on his land paddleboard just as happy as he could be to be outside taking in our unseasonably warm early spring day. He’d already been out for his first race practice of the year at a local lake with the Kahele outrigger canoe earlier this afternoon and just couldn’t get enough of the 70-degree temp during the first week of April. The day was beautiful. Steve was in his element. Julie was waaaaaaaay out of hers!

Steve helped me with disposing of the lifeless body of what surely would have been the Easter bunny for all of the boys and girls in the neighborhood next year . . . or so it seemed to me. I killed the Easter bunny! Oh dear. We talked through the whole ordeal again and turned our attention to the projects that I was finishing up in our yard. Preparing dinner and cleaning up the kitchen followed while thoughts of the little carcass drifted in and out of my mind. Not a good day to be cleaning the remaining chicken off of the roast I had prepared last night! The pinkness of the inner bones reminded me of that little baby’s spine. Every time I closed my eyes, I could see the raw, bleeding, exposed back of the chomped and squealing precious critter with the soft paws and fluffy tail. Oh dear. Oh my.

So maybe some of you Gentle Readers grew up taking care of dead animals during your years living in the country or on a farm? The closest I got to this was probably throwing out a mouse trap with the mouse still entrapped but already dead, its jaws locked on a piece of pinconning cheese. Always felt bad for the little things. We had gerbils for pets you know, and they all look so harmless — until you find their damage behind the sofa, in the duct work, or in your shoes with just a little hole in them! I guess I grew up a little more today, a little more like a country gal who was simply taking care of a tiny matter in the circle of life.

And now it’s time to go to bed and close my eyes. Oh Lord, help me let go of the cute, squeaky rabbit that died today. Easter is coming soon and celebrating the sacrifice you made on the cross at Calvary for us to live eternally in peace, with you, is all that matters. And thank you for the courage to act when needed to end the suffering of one of your creations. You care about them and you care about me too. You have acted miraculously in my life in recent days in a way that is further reducing my own suffering and I am exceedingly grateful. More on that another time. For tonight, I get it Lord.

“Are not five sparrows sold for two copper coins? And not one of them is forgotten before God. But the very hairs of your head are all numbered. Do not fear therefore; you are of more value than many sparrows.” Luke 12:6-7

You are so good. JJ

Some Passion for You

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Passion stems from the Latin work pati, meaning “to suffer.” The stem pass comes from the word passive meaning “capable of suffering.” Pass was coined in the early 16th century to denote “the suffering of Christ on the cross.” English also acquired the word through the Old French word passion meaning “strength of feeling.” This has been transferred in our modern times to denote sexual attraction and anger.  (From this website.)

I was watching an interview of actor Jim Caviezel who portrayed Jesus Christ in Mel Gibson’s movie Passion of the Christ.  Jim has a powerful testimony of the physical trauma he endured during the making of that film.  The movie came out in 2004 when I was in the beginning stages of divorce after my former spouse left me.  I was devastated.  Also within that year my grandmother and youngest brother had died, I lost my home, I had to change churches to begin the healing process (distancing me from my support system), my mother was diagnosed with lung cancer and underwent a serious surgery out of State, I lost my job, and had to store my things in 5 places while I began the first of what would become 5 moves of residence.  One of these was after a condo fire which displaced me into a temporary apartment with only the clothes on my back for a time.  Talk about suffering!  Still this was nothing compared to what my Lord had suffered on the cross for my salvation.  But I tell you, I simply could not watch that movie during that time in my life.  I was too traumatized.  It would just be too painful on too many levels.

This week marks the 5-year anniversary of when I first started having wretched seizure attack episodes on a daily basis.  I had gotten sick with a biotoxin illness for 6 months before then when an “alternative” treatment modality triggered the onset of seizures.  (These continued today although gratefully the pattern is changing some again and this could become a good thing.)  The suffering with these often violent convulsions has been tremendous.  Never would I have imagined such a terrible, terrible illness.  (See them here.)  Even the tumultuous years around 2004 do not compare to what I have endured more recently.  Even those who agonized with me during the various aspects of the stress 13 years ago do not compare to what my beloved husband Steve has endured with me during this illness.  Suffering of this magnitude brings hell to earth for a part of every day.

There are other periods of time that I would characterize as suffering:  the incidents of abuse in my childhood.  Some were sexual, others physical beatings, and several involved satanic rituals.  All were profoundly damaging and required years of help, love, and the healing grace of our Lord, Jesus Christ to overcome.  The abuse kept my mind, body, and emotions trapped in various ways for decades affecting my ability to function as an adult woman.  Somehow I did find my way out when I found Jesus Christ as Lord and Savior; eventually the pain, the “suffering” largely went away.  Self-destructive habits and negative thought processes faded.  Forgiveness and healing took its place.  I became more whole, interestingly surging even now to a new level of peace as the seizure attacks lessen.  Suffering from abuse no longer troubles my spirit.

The Lord doesn’t waste anything in His plan for our lives.  After 2006, I got to experience a magnificent restoration from the “years the locusts had eaten.”  (Joel 2:25) For example, the insurance settlement from the condo fire (where I was renting an apartment) ended up paying for beautiful décor in a condo of my own where I could rebuild my life as a single woman.  Flash forward to more recently and I wrote here of the blessings that have come despite enduring a serious illness including meeting all of you through this blog!  And all that childhood sorrow gave me a compassion for others that has served me well caring for others for decades as an occupational therapist.  Despite my suffering, I am grateful that my Heavenly Father and Husband has allowed me to see His hand, His plan that has masterfully created goodness from the suffering He ultimately allowed for His glory.  I now believe it was all for my good too.

unyru paper, collage, art, wall, Romans 8:38, Jermiah 29:11 Christian, artist
Collage art wall mural in the hallway of my condo with a self portrait too.

And what about the more contemporary definition the word “passion?”  The connotation of emotional, physical, sexual energy?  Let’s just say there is much in my life now to be passionate about in having a wonderful husband (my “intended beloved”) who loves the Lord and me too.  Then there’s my love of growing things in the garden (from my mom) that has kept me moving forward on my worst of days in addition to my best of days.  I love digging in the dirt!  Perhaps most importantly is my passion to champion the calling of the Holy Spirit when He compels me to:  serve someone, encourage someone, love someone, share the hope found in Jesus Christ with someone.  When I hear the call of the Holy Spirit moving me in a particular direction, I move forward with a razor-sharp focus that consumes whatever energy and resources are available to me at that moment.  Whether it is in the middle of the night making my husband’s lunch for work the next day or baking cookies (despite a terrific headache) for that service dude who is having a really, really bad day.  Me and my Lord getter done!

This I have come to know:  that if the Lord calls, He empowers us to respond.  That is what passion is all about, good or bad.  And guess what?  He made the suffering, all of it, good for us on Easter morning.  How about if we keep this in mind the next time he calls?

JJ

The Struggle is Real

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Wake up and wait for the tempest beast to roar

Through my head, my tender frame — ah the pain:

Will I be able to hold back the waterfall in my loins

Will my body rage with tazoring if I try to rise to soon?

Welcome to my world, my day, my nightmare as Cooper said

Alice had black eye make-up unlike the darkness behind my lids

Held so tight, squeezed closed by puppet-like strings of wrath

Taunting my resolve leaving me nowhere to turn but to His Face.

My Jesus knows torture far worse and soon we will celebrate

How He came to save us from our hell by His bodily sacrifice

His ministry when hated, limited only by the perishing of His frame

Such a witness for me, for all to keep moving forward always.

No trial shall thwart the plans made for us in the womb

When our Lord crafted our days, the ups and the deep downs too —

He grieved yet promised to walk with us and deliver us one day

So we could have hope and a reason to reach for His gift above all.

So that is where I will turn:  the Cross of my Redeemer that lives

That delivers me from the angst of life without hope for alas it does:

One day this suffering will be gone and my story will be my cross

May it bring glory to the One who opens my eyes on my bed of becoming . . .

 

. . . for my just reward, for His purposes, for trusting when the struggle is real.

JJ

cross of jesus

Cave Dweller That I Am

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Yesterday I found out that my cousin, Lisa, has a tendency to keep the blinds in her house closed when times get tough.  Yeah, that’s me too.  Until we reunited over my brother’s illness, I did not know that she too battles fibromyalgia and a host of “female,” medical issues.  She is at the beginning of her search for treatment options.  We talked quite a bit about these and other family matters while sitting in my brother’s private room on the Telemetry floor at the Detroit hospital.  And so it goes at weddings, funerals and the markers of life in between:  catching up on relationships we are too busy to nourish when busy with the tasks of life . . .

Steve and I got home around midnight after our whirlwind trip to see Mike in the hospital yesterday.  (Steve had to work today and I’m allergic to hotel rooms anyways!)  I am both depleted and grateful for so much today.  Steve drove us the 6-hours round trip so we could see Lisa, Mike, and his fiancé (Lisa) while I endured seizure attack episodes in the car.  Our departure was a few hours late due to the same.  Divine timing superseded it all as we were able to see a physician familiar with Mike’s care during her evening rounds and before we had to leave.  As of today he has been cleared of any infectious disease cause to the right CVA; he continues nothing-by-mouth yet is getting his “Pepsi” substitute via IV glucose.  Pepsi is all he kept asking for . . . in addition to asking his fiancé to wish me a “happy birthday.”  Yes, I got to see my brother for the first time in years yesterday and on my birthday.  Strange but true.

Today I am back in cave-dweller mode.  The grief reaction of seeing him so debilitated is taking its toll so I am just lying low for now.  I tried out a new ceramic frying pan to make my Candida diet/mold-free/low oxalate blueberry pancakes and kept the beast of a skillet on the stove long enough to make lunch this afternoon too.  Perhaps I will shower before my husband comes home this evening and perhaps not.  The extra (stress?) seizure attacks and post-travel fatigue probably contributed to me missing the very chiropractic treatment I needed to relieve my sore back.  Oh well.  The Lord has given me the time and space I need to clear my head from the events of this week and that is good.  Catching up with other relatives today while sharing the news about my brother is good too.

My relationship to one cave dweller in particular is making a difference right now.  So poetic that all of this is happening in my life during the week that the world celebrates Easter.  Our Lord, Jesus Christ lain in state in a cave after dying a tortuous death on a cross for the sins of me and you.  We can point to Easter Sunday with hope that the suffering of our lives (the consequence of living in a fallen, sin-laden world) will be redeemed when He comes again in glory.  He who has victory over death both knows the cries of our hearts and holds them in the palm of His hand that reaches out to us in grace, in mercy, in love.  He is with me here now and goes before me no matter what the next moment may bring for me or Mike.  I am strong in this belief despite the weakness of my broken frame.  Nothing can take this away for those in Christ.   Nothing!

Cave Tomb of Jesus

So if you are feeling weak, vulnerable, fearful, doubtful, or sad this day:  take heart.  The Lord is on the throne of grace and weeps for our suffering.  He will come again in glory and make all things new someday.  In the meantime I hope that you will reach out to Him and let me know how it goes.  We all can be brought into the light of His amazing grace to dwell in His presence if we but believe.

Where does your heart dwell Gentle Reader?

Psalm 73

23 Yet I am always with you;
    you hold me by my right hand.
24 You guide me with your counsel,
    and afterward you will take me into glory.
25 Whom have I in heaven but you?
    And earth has nothing I desire besides you.
26 My flesh and my heart may fail,
    but God is the strength of my heart
    and my portion forever.

27 Those who are far from you will perish;
    you destroy all who are unfaithful to you.
28 But as for me, it is good to be near God.
    I have made the Sovereign Lord my refuge;
    I will tell of all your deeds.

Father Save Me From This Hour

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Such was the cry of our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ as He prepared to die a tortuous death on the cross at Calvary:  before His glorious resurrection and what we have come to celebrate as Easter.

The sins of the world hung in the balance that day, separating us from the love of the Father in heaven.  Until the time of Christ a Jew was required to bring sacrifices to atone for his or her sins and that of the family.  Bringing sacrifices, keeping the Sabbath, and a plethora of Jewish holidays dominated religious life.  These rituals and following the rule of law (including the Ten Commandments) was the only way to get to heaven before the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ.  Then God’s Word teaches us that He came to save the world if we but repented and believed in His saving grace, His death and resurrection.  He became the Passover lamb that was slain.  Gifts of eternal life, indwelling of the Holy Spirit, spiritual gifts, fellowship with other believers and more follows for those who come forward.  But it’s not all rosy living the Christian walk  . . .

Yes, there is much good in the world, much happiness in this life.  And then there is the bad stuff too.  The reason for the bad stuff is an important topic yet it goes in another direction than my discussion today.  Let’s just say that evil is here and it will always be here until Jesus Christ comes again.  When bad stuff happens, someone suffers.  Our Lord knew what suffering felt like as He was ridiculed, whipped within inches of His life, and sentenced to a horrific death for something he did not do.  He came into the world willingly from the eternal realm out of love for us.  Conversely, we rarely come to our suffering in the world willingly.  Our suffering comes as a consequence of living in a fallen, imperfect world as sinners.  Further, our suffering isn’t always fair.  Sometimes it comes when we are close to God, working hard, doing good, loving others, and making the most out of our finite lives.  Many times it just doesn’t make sense.

I just finished listening to a gentle message by the late Chuck Smith of Calvary Chapel Costa Mesa entitled, “Prayer of a Troubled Heart.”  Pastor Smith developed this topic better than I can so I would encourage you to listen to the audio sermon if the subject is on your mind these days.  I was comforted by his instruction that our suffering can be God working out eternal purposes in our earthly lives for our eternal glory.  If we could somehow change God’s plan for our lives we would be obstructing God’s eternal purposes.  “Even from the pain and suffering, eternal good is going to come.”  We can point to the life of the apostle Paul who endured physical infirmity and still carried or “deposited” the Gospel message to countless peoples throughout the known world of his time.

12 That is why I am suffering as I am. Yet this is no cause for shame, because I know whom I have believed, and am convinced that he is able to guard what I have entrusted to him until that day.

13 What you heard from me, keep as the pattern of sound teaching, with faith and love in Christ Jesus. 14 Guard the good deposit that was entrusted to you—guard it with the help of the Holy Spirit who lives in us. 2 Timothy 1

The apostle Paul encourages us to trust, to have faith in the Gospel of Jesus Christ no matter what our “light and momentary” affliction might be.   In light of all eternity, our time of illness is short indeed.

16 Therefore we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day. 17 For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all. 18 So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen, since what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal.  2 Corinthians 4

Relying on the scriptures brings the power of God into our weary hearts and minds.  We find stories of triumph over trials that encourage us.  Hebrews 11 describes several pillars of faith, empowered by God to endure, overcome, and bring glory to God as they saw His plan unfolding before their eyes.  Joseph was sold into slavery, imprisoned in a dungeon, mocked then ended up saving the nation of Israel from starvation as others recognized his Godly character and abilities.  There are many more men and women from whose example we can learn as well.

Drawing from the scriptures Pastor Smith guides us first to pray about the things troubling our souls.  Second, we are to “reason” that God really does love me and is wiser than I am.  I am not to base my understanding of His love for me on my circumstances but on who He is.  The events of my life work out His eternal purposes for both me and those around me according to His Divine plans for good, for His glory.  And third, I am to commit myself unto the will of the Father knowing that:

We know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.   Romans 8:28

This is difficult to do!  If it’s too difficult then I must first ask myself:  in whose strength am I trying to get through the suffering?  Do I keep asking the Lord to do this or that for me versus asking Him to help me?  Reveal His will for me?  Encourage me with His grace?  Strengthen me to endure?  Submit to His will knowing that His good is coming?  I must put on my eternal glasses even if I cannot see anything beyond my situation.  I need to ask Him to increase my faith and He will do it!

This insight came together after another and extremely wretched evening.  Only once before have I completely collapsed without warning at the kitchen table requiring my husband to catch me from falling.  Moments after he carried me to bed I cried the most guttural tears of my entire life.  The most violent convulsions I have ever experienced followed.  Steve prayed then cried too.  It seemed to me like I was “weeping and gnashing (my) teeth” as the Bible describes for those in hell.  It took a long time to recover.  I still do not know why all this suffering is here for me and Steve.  I do know how I am to handle it, however.  That insight came earlier in the evening.

Unfortunately I never was able to join the home group discussion in my own home tonight.  After welcoming our brothers and sisters in Christ and setting aside the goodies they brought for later, I attempted to walk to my seat in the living room.  I was aware that my speech had become strained already.  Then all of a sudden I felt sick:  the pre-tic set of symptoms ramped up quickly indicating that what was coming next would not be good.  I whispered into Steve’s ear from behind where he was sitting on the sectional that I wasn’t feeling well and scooted off to our bedroom.  As my head was hitting the pillow the seizure attacks began!  They were bad.  They persisted with vocalizations that risked alarming our guests down the hall.  Soon I heard a guitar playing and people singing.  The worship had begun and the sounds would cover my episode.  Thank you Lord.

I had hoped that the music would also quiet my tender frame in torment.  Not so.  The episode quieted into tic attacks and I was able to breathe more easily.  In my spirit I cried out to the Lord to stop the episode.  I feared many scenarios that could happen next in which others would end up horrified, witnessing some aspect of the seizures.  Our master bathroom toilet was out of commission for repairs requiring all of us to use the bathroom in the hallway between where I was in bed and the living room.  If I collapsed and was unable to walk, Steve would have to physically assist me to the bathroom partially in view of where everyone was sitting.  I would first need to scream to alert him beyond the closed Master bedroom door.  Nothing would be pleasant about the fact that I really needed to use the bathroom down the hall from me  . . .

It’s as if the Lord was sitting right next to me in that bed at that moment.  It’s as if I could see the slight scowl on His face as He “looked” me directly in the eye and wondered why I was telling Him what to do again.  Had He not been with me in prior episodes?  Had He not used this illness to reach thousands of people around the world with the Gospel through this blog?  Had He not gifted me to write and create in ways that brought joy to my heart even in the middle of the night?  Had He not provided for both Steve’s and my needs these past 2 1/2 years?  Helped me become an Advanced Master Gardener?  Strengthened Steve to win his first national kayaking award?  Yes, He had worked in both of our lives incredibly despite the extreme suffering.

No one in their right mind wants to suffer.  I don’t like this wretched illness and long for it to be over.  Yet if I miss the teaching moments that come along the way then this suffering will be no more than an endurance race with no prize, no glory, no hope, no real encouragement for others who will come after me.  The lesson I needed to learn this evening was to simply ask for the Lord’s HELP and let HIM do the rest.  He knows why this episode was timed during the heart of our home group meeting and I do not.  I need to trust Him on this one as I have during so many times of need in the past.  His answers, His timing, His purposes have encouraged me more times than I can describe here in addition to numerous other people watching the events unfold.  As Pastor Smith describes in his message:  I do not want to obstruct God’s eternal purposes that will be for my good and His glory!

I must persevere in faith no matter what the cost.  He will strengthen my faith.  I must ask my Heavenly Father in the name of Jesus Christ for help then wait on His leading, His answers.  Jesus Christ did this very act of submission before the Father when Jesus was praying in the Garden of Gethsemane knowing that His torture and death were imminent:

42 He went away a second time and prayed, “My Father, if it is not possible for this cup to be taken away unless I drink it, may your will be done.”  Matthew 26

The God of the universe, living among us as a man yet fully God, submitted to the will of the Father, the purpose for which He was born into the world.  He cried out for the Father to save him from that hour in crisis, for help.  Most importantly He then submitted to the will of the Father and the world changed forever because of it.  I will live a life eternally with my Jesus because He died on that cross for me.  My time of suffering is not too much to bear with His help to live the life to which I am called.  Sure it feels like hell.  My faith transcends my broken frame and will bring an eternal reward that goes beyond my temporary affliction.  With this I can go on.

What say you, Gentle Reader?  He loves you too you know . . .  Might you call on Him too?  It just might rock your world in a good way.  No kidding.