healing – Page 6 – Jesus is for the Wounded

Anatomy of a Garden Bed: Luke 7

Published on September 6, 2014September 6, 2014 by Jesus is for the WoundedLeave a comment

⁴While a large crowd was gathering and people were coming to Jesus from town after town, he told this parable: ⁵“A farmer went out to sow his seed. As he was scattering the seed, some fell along the path; it was trampled on, and the birds ate it up.

20140827_191225 — Nothing going on here at the nursery: barren ground and a dead stump provide a perch for this lone feline.

⁶Some fell on rocky ground, and when it came up, the plants withered because they had no moisture. ⁷Other seed fell among thorns, which grew up with it and choked the plants.

20140827_202927 — In the absence of compost and amendments, nothing would grow in this soil!

⁸Still other seed fell on good soil. It came up and yielded a crop, a hundred times more than was sown.”

DSCF0575 — Compost, Canadian peat moss, hardwood mulch and fertilizer should give these newbies and transplants a head start in their new home.

When he said this, he called out, “Whoever has ears to hear, let them hear.”

When we do not heed the Word of God all our efforts waste away, crumbling back to the earth like the dead plants in this compost pile. How better to thrive in the Word of wisdom! — This passage provides important lessons for our lives. When we do not heed the Word of God all our efforts ultimately waste away, crumbling back to the earth like the dead plants in this compost pile.

⁹His disciples asked him what this parable meant. ¹⁰He said, “The knowledge of the secrets of the kingdom of God has been given to you, but to others I speak in parables, so that, though seeing, they may not see; though hearing, they may not understand.

Without the counsel of the words of Jesus Christ our lives are like chasing the wind. — Striving in our own strength, is like blindly chasing after the wind.

¹¹“This is the meaning of the parable: The seed is the word of God. ¹²Those along the path are the ones who hear, and then the devil comes and takes away the word from their hearts, so that they may not believe and be saved.

Barren ground shall not awaken without the light of our Lord and Savior. — Barren ground shall not awaken to the truth without the light, the Words of our Lord and Savior.

¹³Those on the rocky ground are the ones who receive the word with joy when they hear it, but they have no root. They believe for a while, but in the time of testing they fall away. ¹⁴The seed that fell among thorns stands for those who hear, but as they go on their way they are choked by life’s worries, riches and pleasures, and they do not mature.

20140830_161444 — Plants weaken and become subject to pests and diseases when choked together. Perennials that mature properly require care, division, replanting, water, sunlight, fertilization, and time to grow in due season.

¹⁵But the seed on good soil stands for those with a noble and good heart, who hear the word, retain it, and by persevering produce a crop.

DSCF0589 — The newly pruned and divided stella d’oro daylilies will flourish next year, finishing this season well and providing plants for the new garden bed too.

Resting in God's creation — How glorious it is to rest in God’s creation and plan for our lives!

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P.S. I’m thinking of putting together a group Skype devotional and prayer time once per week with others who are largely isolated for whatever reason. The focus would be open and based upon belief in God through the person of Jesus Christ of the Bible. Please leave me a comment below if you might be interested. I’ll do a separate blog on this soon! Take care, JJ

If the story made a difference

Published on July 28, 2014July 28, 2014 by Jesus is for the Wounded4 Comments

A blog is an interesting vehicle in one’s life. You get to write about anything you want and just about anyone, anywhere can read it. At least that is how this blog is structured. Funny thing is that once you get going on a particular topic, there’s a high likelihood that you might reveal a little more about yourself than you might if you were in person. The ideas just flow when here alone at the keyboard and if it is a personal blog (instead of a professional or business forum) well things can get personal quite easily! If you are honest, that is!

Why bring this up? Well I have come to realize that some tragic events in my childhood are influencing the nature of my recovery from illness. The question I have grappled with of late is whether or not to write about it. Oh the story is juicy enough to draw some interest and you bet I’ll let you know how the Lord has helped me endure and overcome the pain of it all. Healing has come for these hurts because of the love of my Heavenly Father manifest in my personal relationship with His Son, Jesus Christ. The Holy Spirit has guided the process: providing counsel, “Jesus with skin on” in the form of loving sojourners, helpful tools, and His glorious written Word leading me to hope. So why share the hairy details anyways?

Possibly I would because horrific illness may trigger past hurts for others more than me. I don’t want you to feel alone if that is part of your story. New trauma often stirs up old wounds: at least the one we might find are not fully healed. We might not know that they are not fully healed until something new happens in our lives as in the course of serious illness. I view many of these events as “another involuntary growth experience” and am often left feeling more whole when I work through the tender issues correctly. The problem is that when you happen to mention to a medical professional that waking nightmares, seizures, involuntary screaming episodes, and convulsions have triggered scenes that might be from your past YOU GET A PSYCHIATRIC LABEL AND THEY STOP TRYING TO TREAT THE MEDICAL ILLNESS. This is frustrating indeed! The medical illness came first. Healing secondary issues is a bonus, like clearing out cobwebs in a musty garage. Cool beans and all that jazz. Keep the treatment focus on the root cause people!

So for me to share old or emerging facts from my abusive past runs the risk of my physical symptoms not being taken seriously. Convulsions require serious examination, eh? I paid dearly this past Saturday for venturing out on a private lake for my husband’s canoe and kayaking class hosted with a friend. Even though the water was treated with blue dye to prevent algae growth, it was there anyways. I have never had such violent, animalistic, horrifying convulsions in these 2 1/2 years of seizure attacks as I did one hour after I returned home. You would not believe the level of torment I endured continuously for 2 wretched hours! The rest of the evening was awful too with a rebound of episodes on Sunday. I lost over a day of my life in payment for enjoying a paddling outing with my beloved and some friends. The biotoxin illness won and I lost. Tell me how this is all in my head as the working out of an unhappy childhood? NO WAY.

If the story of my sorry childhood made a difference to the “Hope Beyond” I would like the Gentle Reader to find, I would write about it here. However in doing so I would risk selling myself short in the process for those who might not follow my whole story. One of my blogs generally covers only one topic as in a chapter of a book. Further, reading a posting about a waking nightmare that was remarkably similar to a very bad day a long time ago would put the focus on the past and not on the exposure to cyanobacteria earlier that afternoon. And in the end we bloggers don’t need to share everything about ourselves to be heard, to make a difference in the literary world. We only need to be genuine to ourselves, to our subject matter. Should I need to share a scene from my past to make a point I might do so briefly. To say more will put the focus in the wrong place. I need to keep my eyes fixed on my great expectation for what lies ahead of me (and all who believe), in the glorious presence of my Lord and Savior. One day when my life on this earth is over He will make right all that was not right back there and heal me then, if not sooner. I believe there will be a blessing for my stewardship of the experiences, sacrifices, ministries, and choices of humility He allowed in my life if I have succeeded in acting according to His will. And if I have acted according to His will then it is only because He helped me to do so! This stuff is way too hard to make it on my own.

The story that truly makes a difference is not mine. The story that has the power to transform the lives, the hearts of mankind is that of the person of Jesus Christ. Let His own Words of His life, His pain and suffering as chronicled in the Gospels (the first 4 books of the New Testament in the Bible) lead you to His throne of grace. Lay your burdens before the One Who is, Who was, and Who will forever be. Let His love redeem the pains of the past so that both you and I may live freely in His presence forevermore. What great fellowship we shall enjoy one day soon! What great joy we will know when He calls each of us by name Who knows Him as Lord and Savior. Oh how I long to hear His stories of how much He loves us, He takes our prayers to the Father, and has prepared a glorious place for us to dwell in together: Him and I; you and Him; the fellowship of believers; the cherubim and seraphim. Yeah that’s where my focus outta be!

Philippians 4:8New International Version (NIV)

⁸Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things.

Oh yeah! Now that’s some great writing! ;J

That’s what friends are for

Published on July 14, 2014August 5, 2014 by Jesus is for the WoundedLeave a comment

Mrs. Wesolowski would turn over in grave if she saw this title and its dangling participle. So sorry my late English teacher. It’s even a song title and a great pop tune as well:

Tonight I got to go back in time to my working days. I had the privilege of talking on the phone with 2 ladies via conference call that I worked with over 10 years ago. The two of them are long time friends from college. As for me, “P1” was the Certified Occupational Therapy Assistant (COTA) in a skilled nursing facility (SNF) where I was her supervising Occupational Therapist. She was hard-working, dedicated, thorough, and very kind with all of our rehabilitation patients. We had lots of memorable moments and a few we would rather forget as well. It’s all in the mix when you serve others in the zany, fast-paced people business of healthcare.

“P2” was also a COTA in another SNF when we met, providing quality therapy services over the weekend. We laughed and got an incredible amount of work done with residents we hardly knew when covering for the regular therapists. On call work isn’t for everyone when you have to provide billable services in a place where you can hardly find the resident’s rooms in an unfamiliar setting! What I remember most about P2 was our 1 1/2 years together when I assisted her with a Fibromyalgia Support group she founded for Central DuPage Hospital. I learned a lot from P2 as she cared for those who attended as friends, as sojourners, emphasizing the importance of keeping our focus on wellness, not just illness when battling chronic pain.

I am so grateful that P1 put this call together tonight. We got to talk “shop” for the first time for me in a long time. They also understood the administrative details with which I have struggled in my brother’s care after a stroke 3 months ago. With P2 we share a strong interest in gardening: in the past P2’s home was a registered bird and butterfly sanctuary in the west suburbs of Chicago (a very unlikely place for a natural retreat!) With P1 I share overcoming a traumatic event at our place of work when an administrator verbally attacked her in front of a regional rehabilitation manager who did nothing to defend P1. She ended up resigning to save her dignity and avoid having to travel many miles between two facilities with the second one even further from her home. I respected her tremendously for moving on. We lost a dedicated employee that day but I gained a friendship that has endured more than this . . .

Their sons are now nearly grown and I have moved 200 miles away to another State to remarry and start a new life. P1 is back in occupational therapy in a SNF near her home and P2 provides Ai Chi water classes to those seeking peace through gentle movements and relaxation techniques. Both apply everyday what it means to be trained in the field of occupational therapy: adapting to the challenges and opportunities of life, enriching the lives of others, connecting with those we hold dear. I do miss working as an occupational therapist. I also recognize that I am grateful for the skills I learned in O.T. that I use everyday to cope with an ongoing, serious illness. Sometimes I wish I could go back in time to relive some of those days when a twinkle in the eye of an older adult was my greatest reward for a job well done. Or when I hear a whoot! whooot! from behind a closed door from a patient who has just regained the ability to care for himself because of the therapeutic relationship with his seasoned COTA. Those were the days, eh ladies?

As we move forward in life the focus must always change at some point. I do wonder if I will get to share a cup of coffee or tea with P1 and P2 in person? Or maybe we will walk in P2’s garden along the wetland in her backyard and marvel at the 80 birdhouse gourds she might harvest once again. We probably will never work together again and that’s cool too. But hey, let’s never lose touch o.k.? You have filled my heart with goodness this night and I appreciate you too so very much. Seeya on Facebook. Love to you both, Just Julie

A Psalm for Times Like These

Published on June 21, 2014 by Jesus is for the WoundedLeave a comment

Psalm 40

New International Version (NIV)

For the director of music. Of David. A psalm.

¹I waited patiently for the Lord;
    he turned to me and heard my cry.
²He lifted me out of the slimy pit,
    out of the mud and mire;
he set my feet on a rock
    and gave me a firm place to stand.
³He put a new song in my mouth,
    a hymn of praise to our God.
Many will see and fear the Lord
    and put their trust in him.

4 Blessed is the one

    who trusts in the Lord,

who does not look to the proud,

    to those who turn aside to false gods.
5 Many, Lord my God,

    are the wonders you have done,

    the things you planned for us.

None can compare with you;

    were I to speak and tell of your deeds,

    they would be too many to declare.

6 Sacrifice and offering you did not desire—

    but my ears you have opened—

    burnt offerings and sin offerings you did not require.
7 Then I said, “Here I am, I have come—

    it is written about me in the scroll.
8 I desire to do your will, my God;

    your law is within my heart.”

9 I proclaim your saving acts in the great assembly;

    I do not seal my lips, Lord,

    as you know.
10 I do not hide your righteousness in my heart;

    I speak of your faithfulness and your saving help.

I do not conceal your love and your faithfulness

    from the great assembly.

¹¹Do not withhold your mercy from me, Lord;
    may your love and faithfulness always protect me.
¹²For troubles without number surround me;
    my sins have overtaken me, and I cannot see.
They are more than the hairs of my head,
    and my heart fails within me.
¹³Be pleased to save me, Lord;
    come quickly, Lord, to help me.

¹⁴May all who want to take my life
    be put to shame and confusion;
may all who desire my ruin
    be turned back in disgrace.
¹⁵May those who say to me, “Aha! Aha!”
    be appalled at their own shame.
¹⁶But may all who seek you
    rejoice and be glad in you;
may those who long for your saving help always say,
    “The Lord is great!”

¹⁷But as for me, I am poor and needy;
may the Lord think of me.
You are my help and my deliverer;
you are my God, do not delay.

(Amen.)

When you find your voice again

Published on May 21, 2014May 21, 2014 by Jesus is for the Wounded4 Comments

Perhaps it is a silent presence, a type of mindfulness that can speak as loud as a mountaintop yodel in a life-changing moment. Or maybe you must shout it out, screeching through a resistant case of laryngitis just what is on your mind. Then there are those measured words spoken through gritted teeth; oooooh, I hated when my mother uttered those when I was a child! A crazy person makes sense only to his or herself when the disemboweled utterance emerges from the trouble soul within. And the most agregious is the spine-tingling barbs of an angry person that can cut to the heart every time. Sure wish I had more of the first one and less of the others in my history!

A gentle answer turns away wrath,
but a harsh word stirs up anger. (Proverbs 15:1)

Yes indeed.

The seizure attacks came quickly this evening as soon as my face hit the head of the bed, elevated with folded blankets to promote sinus drainage and ease the chest compression of a recent infection. My left arm was tucked along my left side with my head turned to the right as I lain partially face-down. This position causes less neck and shoulder pain so it is often my go-to position when I sense the episode ramping up. The head-banging and shoulder trauma are minimized but the wrenching of my neck is nasty. Oh well, that’s what the chiropractor is for, right? Sigh.

Eventually I screeched out some “help me Lord” utterances with what was left of my voice box today. That came whilst straining to cry out to my Jesus with an acute illness on top of the mysterious seizure-like tics that plague me every morning, evening, and after exposure to noxious stimuli. I can’t even cry right! Then things got incredibly darker. In defense of my sanity I won’t go into details here so let’s just say that frightful images passed through my mind. Then in my mind’s eye I could see the images on my arms. Just then I noticed that Steve was stooping over the side of the bed beside me in the dark. Holy crap! His sudden appearance in the dark scared me further. My body writhed with seizures, now lying on my right side with Steve behind me. My arms flailed in the air, my legs flapped together then apart, and the screeching sound of my hoarse voice screaming holy terror would exceed any scene I’ve viewed from a psycho thriller for sure. But this was not a movie. This was ME!

A few decades ago some really bad things happened to me when I was a kid. I spent about 12 years as a young adult in many kinds of therapy, therapy groups, 12-step recovery groups (Al Anon Adult Children of Alcoholics), faith-based and 12-step weekend retreats, and reading tons of self-help books. True healing came when I got saved and the person of Jesus Christ showed me his love, care for me, and plan for my life if I would follow His lead. He was restoring the years the locusts had eaten (Joel 2:25) when I met my intended beloved and married Steve. I felt happy and free at last. Four years later I got very sick with viral hepatitis, Lyme disease, and Chronic Inflammatory Response Syndrome (related to mold). I haven’t been able to work in two years largely due to the seizure attack episodes multiple times per day. They are heartbreaking for both of us in addition to many other folks who have witnessed them too.

Over and over again I have searched for meaning, a purpose for this extended illness. The incredible expenses of remediating our home for mold in early 2013 surely tested our marriage for sure. We were living in a hotel while navigating a myriad of details and tough decisions as Steve travelled between work, home, and the hotel; his daughter chose to continue living in the house and help us out during the entire process. Eventually our dog joined us in the hotel. Eventually we completed the remediation, opted not to sell our house, and moved back home. However, the seizure attacks never stopped! By summer of 2013 they increased to up to 4 hours per day! No medical professional or online research has found an answer yet. Somehow Steve and I grew closer through it all as our hearts were breaking; the pain and suffering has been great.

Recently the Lord did show me a few tasks that needed to be completed in our marriage. The love between Steve and I over these past 2 1/2 years has become strengthened, deepened because of this difficult journey. We have now turned our residence into a “safe home” which restricts visitors or the conditions under which others may enter our home. This helps prevent exposures for me that could cause a negative reaction (aka seizures!). I love that my beloved is helping to protect me in this way so that I can get well. I love that he has been faithful to the Lord and to me through this entire journey. Others are watching us and I understand that we are doing some things right! My own restoration and healing from the past may have provided a foundation for the important growth in me that has happened of late. I am grateful to be able to recognize the good that is here along with the challenges. There is always good along with the challenges if we look closely enough . . .

Back to the scene in the bedroom. I asked Steve to move from where he was stooped behind me to the other side of the bed where he would be in front of me. The uncontrollable hell that was ravaging my weakened frame was frightening enough not to have a sense that someone, even someone I dearly loved, was lingering over me from behind. Steve knows all too well that if he touches me during an episode it can magnify the symptoms significantly. I just couldn’t risk a casual brush of a hand; my distress was already unbearable. Then the breakthrough began to happen. Speaking up despite the hoarseness of my voice rose up some inner strength I had never sensed before. I had to ride out the frightening images and thrashing about, my estimation of what weeping and gnashing of teeth might be like in a Biblical description of hell. Tears came. Silence followed. I was able to ask for what I really needed when scared.

Soon my gracious and godly husband was gently sitting beside me. I’m not sure if he was more horrified or moved to compassion! We processed the scene. His eyes held mind for a long time in the darkness before I was able to reach out and touch his arm. Soon he was able to reach out with comforting touch for me as well. Somehow we knew that my intolerance to intimate touch for the past 6 weeks was finally broken. I was able to lie in the arms of my beloved once again.

My writing this story includes a great deal of literary and intellectual license. I mean that I think I might know what is going on, the purpose and meaning in some of this suffering, but there is only one person who actually knows the truth: my Heavenly Father. I am glad that I found my voice in the darkness this evening. I am glad that I survived a wretched scene without too much damage or lingering baggage. I am grateful to have reconnected with Steve and that he could look beyond the ugliness to the beauty imbedded in this crazy journey together. I trust that the Lord will go before us in the next scene and lead us in His way everlasting for His purpose and glory. Lord willing it won’t be so bad next time.

Thank you, Jesus, for your redeeming grace. You make all the difference in the world for me, tonight and always. Thank you for your enduring mercy, giving me have the strength to do that to which you have called me (Philippians 4:13). Be my voice in the darkness and in the light. In Jesus’ name. Amen.