The Awakening

No plant reacts instantly to a brief change in conditions. But a change that persists is an invitation to wake up.  (From the Dirt Simple blog.)

Lately I am finding myself in a place in my world that brings me to a humbling yet screeching halt.  I ask:  what has happened to the me I once knew and where the heck did I land?  The Lord knows the journey that has transpired; the witnesses have varying accounts of this or that as well.  But it is the markers in time, the events out of the ordinary that bring the changes to light, that clarify what is actually seen.  Let’s see if I can explain a bit more about what is going on over here as one of those episodes hit me hard . . .

Three days ago the daily seizure attacks that I have suffered for 5 years ramped up to over SIX HOURS PER DAY.  One day these were all in a row, virtually without ceasing until the wee hours of the morning.  The next day I got a divided dose of 3 1/2 hours in the morning then an encore of SIX MORE HOURS in the evening!  I cannot even describe to you the mental and physical anguish this brings.  Time stops.  A single breath, one then the next, is the only measure in my mind of the clock of life ticking forward.  Difficult decisions got made between my beloved and I resulting in his cancelled trip getting replaced with the sights and sounds of another hospital emergency room.  The drug they gave me helped.  Miraculously, the convulsive spikes are but a blip here and there for now.

I have had over a day now to contemplate what life might be like to be normal again.  Indeed the pain has gone down some, the brain fog got less misty, and my ability to move improved.  So I completed a small garden project yesterday and walked our dog this evening.  I think that the ER Doctors who have told me that this illness isn’t biological are dead wrong.  Stop the seizing and I don’t need a psychiatrist to tell me to get back into life.  I don’t need convincing.  It just happens! 

There is much to figure out right now.  Will I get to work on more treatment like taking down viral infections?  How long will I stay on the new medication that could hurt me if it was too long?  What will I really do with my life should this process of healing continue?  I am hopeful again and that is good.  Alas it is poetic that these changes should occur as the earth warms from the cold of Winter outside.  Unlike the plants that are either remaining dormant out there or are testing their new growth with some surges in our Spring-like weather lately, I will wait to wake up all the way.  In the meantime maybe I can do some good with this wee bit o’ energy.  After all, there is no rushing a beautiful awakening to a new life.

Five years is a long time to have been asleep.

I bought a new truck like my Dad’s just 5 days before a kayaking trip changed my life forever.  I got sick from the water.  I don’t know why I told you that.  It’s been a long detour.  Now things are changing wildly.  Maybe the new beginning will need to involve a little road trip in my sweet ride?  To the nursery just out of town of course.  They sell bags of shredded pine bark compost that should fortify our garden vegetable beds nicely.

See what I mean?  It’s already happening . . .

JJ

garden dog, German shepherd, grass, sleeping, pet, pup, sneaky, dog
Elle awaits the awakening . . .

A Tale of 2 Gregs

One made the bag, the other got it in me

The latter carried me for a time, the former will see me from beginning to end.

Both attend to excruciating detail

Their work as professional as it can be:  an example for all who deal in potions for the cure.

The one is seeking her Lord

Whilst the other follows Christ with family, with livelihood reflective of the same over time.

I never knew how this journey would go

And the people, places, and things that would come near for having been allowed this path.

But I must say parts have been worth it

Having known you two has taught me much about life, about overcoming, about getting up each and every day.

So today when your worlds collided over me

I felt humbled at your care, expertise, and willingness to make a difference in my recovery.

Thank you for being on my team

These infusions of life-giving waters will make a difference one day for sure.

Until then carry on dear providers

Your work goes beyond sharing 4 letters of your names to hope beyond this day for sure.

 

You rock!  JJ

Slow But Sure

What will it feel like to be almost normal again?

Will the days fill with meaning, the nights rest with pleasure?

Alas I know not what tomorrow will bring —

So it’s it will be in the smaller moments that I will define who I am, who I will be.

At least as long as it is up to me . . . and little is of course . . .

*****************

An important decision came to me today that surprised me.  Oh there were the impossible ones that came in the hours beforehand which could be the subject of a tragic drama-blog here (ie. how to handle the seizure attacks overnight, sleep deprivation, heavy burdens, pain) but all that changed when I was catapulted awake at 8:17 a.m.  Could I make it to that appointment after all to the eye doctor?  They didn’t really cancel my appointment from that frantic message I left at 4:57 in the morning did they?  Well I was about to find out!

I pulled on some clothes; rushed back and forth throughout our humble abode; threw together the records, food, and drink I had loosely assembled the night before; and was practically out the door before my hubby emerged from shaving in the bathroom!  I’ll call the office on the way, I thought to myself.  And lucky for me my appointment time was still open for 8:45 a.m.  Holy cow.

Lord only knows how I function on days like these.  The headache pressed sharply into my skull with the plethora of medical testing and related tasks that fill my very full (medical) “work days” lately.  (That is a story for another time!)  Diarrhea delayed the first few steps of my eye exam as the technicians escorted me to rooms with various equipment, administered those dilating drops, etc.  So now my vision had become as blurry as my mental status.  Neat huh?  Sish.  Soon it was time to make some decisions about contact lenses and the potential replacement of eyeglasses.  Three years had passed since my last exam.  Clearly vision care has not been my priority of late!

I don’t even know her name yet her face will be memorable for many weeks to come.  The Optician in the big room with all those designer frames was an older lady with exquisite taste, professional temperament, mastery of her craft.  She quickly knew that I would benefit from some coaching in my selections and did so with style and grace.  I liked her eyeglasses, Silhouettes she called them, and decided it could be a new style that would work for me.  But was I ready for it?  Suddenly I realized that I was deciding about more than a functional facial dressing . . . no, I was crafting what presentation did I really want to make with my eyes, my facial expression to the world these days?

Makeup doesn’t work for me most of the time.  I do keep my hair colored and trimmed fairly regularly, styled about half of the time.  My clothing is rather casual favoring comfort not the fashion trends of the last decade.  Rarely do I adorn jewelry even though I had my own business making and selling colorful macramé jewelry for almost 3 years. My face has aged considerably.  The summer tan has faded.  I no longer wear contact lenses which used to give others direct visual access to my eyes, my soul.  My current eyeglasses with red and black frames are my only adornment, providing a little bit of covering behind which I can hide.

Soon I excused myself to the bathroom yet another time for a little moment of reflection.  Would I choose a new style behind which to mask my true self a little longer?  Yes it really does feel like that.  Would it be frames where the focus is on the shiny rhinestones or metallic finishes instead of the tender woman peering out from behind them?  Only after a few tears later did my choice become clear.  I selected the ones like those my teacher was wearing today.  Kind of like I did with Mrs. Heitkamp back in the 5th grade.  (Oh how I loved her so!)

Far be it from me to miss a moment where I can slowly but surely find a little extra meaning in what is happening and move forward too.  I really do want to be well some day and by golly I hope that my attention to the little things will help me to get ready for that day.  It’s just a pair of eyeglasses right?  Maybe so.  Behind them this time will be a little more of me and a little less of something else blocking the view of the woman inside coming back into view.

1 Peter 3:3-4 New International Version (NIV)

Your beauty should not come from outward adornment, such as elaborate hairstyles and the wearing of gold jewelry or fine clothes. Rather, it should be that of your inner self, the unfading beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which is of great worth in God’s sight.

If you are in a battle right now too, Gentle Reader, please do not lose hope.  Please don’t hide.  Our Lord Jesus Christ yearns for fellowship with each of us as He dresses the heart, infuses the spirit, loves the broken, and leads us to His throne of grace full of splendor beyond compare.  We are beautiful in His sight!  One day I pray that we will see these truths ever so clearly as the pains of this world give way to His richest glory forevermore.

And for that we are definitely going to need sunglasses, eh?  JJ

sunglasses, hiding, worth in Christ, Christian, woman, identity, self worth, self esteem, illness, disability, overcoming, recovery, getting well

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Coming out of the fog

I just might be coming out of the fog

As I hit the 5 year mark of shroudedness

When some bugs in greenish water back then

Everyday put me under severe, daily duress.

I could sell you a book of

Five hundred blogs and two links

With tales of woe then and now that’ve

Filled webpages as I tried to keep on my “think.”

This forum here, now with you this Autumn night

Kept me sane so the cells in my brain did not go to mush;

While firing wacky-backwards without ceasing at times

For waaaaaay toooo long without hope of a rest with a cush.

Looking back, looking forward

And thinking it over some more,

I see da light coming through darkness:

The kind that stays and covers all.

Tis healing that’s on the brink to stay

If I but finish the course with everything

It takes what it takes and it ain’t over they say

And they’re right, “until the fat lady sings!”

Now I ain’t too fat or that big into musical things

There’s more dirt under my fingernails than bylines

Bits o’ gardening, sewing, medical cooking fills the

Hours not counting Heparin and saline syringes.

No matter anyways, anyhoo, anyhow

It’s just the way it went, the road less travelled by

I will be stronger for it in the end they say (and they know)

In due time, Gentle Reader, with the Lord we’ll one day know why.

JJ

Julie Horney, Lyme disease, get well, recovery, healing, gratitude, end of the road, end of the journey, smiling, woman, park, Rogers-Lakewood
Resting with mask in hand by a scummy lake here in Indiana!

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Dad that never left

Perhaps it is more of a blessing than anything else that I have more time for reflection these days.  After the double-loads of laundry, medical management, treatment-and-recovery, self care, and various household duties are completed, there are generally more hours than in my past to think about the stuff of life.  On Father’s Day yesterday, I started to notice some new parallels between my past and present.  It went something like this.

I was posting a picture of my Dad and me on Facebook when I realized how his generosity when he stepped back into my life has become an important part of my current recovery from serious illness.  His gift about 6 years ago allowed me to create a garden oasis in our backyard.  Here are two of my favorite areas:

Creating the flagstone patio area required graph paper, a ruler, tape measure, and endless gazing from all angles to make the kidney-bean shaped layout meet the vision the Lord had given me.  In the next 2 years the process continued with a pair of 8-foot custom steel trellises then a “secret garden” area (basically a re-purposed dog pen!).  The planting beds came later as I decided that we needed more privacy from our neighbors behind us and that I wanted to have a garden-view beyond each room of the house.  The bed on the right in the 2nd picture is largely of native plants and a key component in earning a Sustainable Garden designation from our local cooperative extension office.  The aqua custom shade sail was an incredible find from the “sale” page of a company by the same name.  Now that the design is complete the plants have matured and my heart is home.

Dontcha know that my mom was a gardener?  She would hunt down the groundskeeper at the local zoo if needed to obtain a plant start of a specimen she just needed to have in her yard.  Composting, vegetables, a mounded hill, hanging baskets around the hot tub spa . . . she had all the elements that made her heart happy out there in her suburban back

Mom in Spa

yard.  Her creation came together because of the generosity of her parents too.  Some may call it an inheritance.  I call it the chance to create something beautiful from the sorrow of a lost family member.  And I think it’s o.k. to spend some of it to make the process of going on without him or her a little nicer.  Do something that makes your heart happy!

Flash forward 4 years from when the “bones” of our own garden were installed and I am exceedingly grateful for what the Lord has allowed me to design, to create.  Lying sickly on that chaise lounge last summer when it looked like there would be little hope for recovery, brought solace of sorts.  Lying sickly on that same chair this summer after taking treatments that are slowly giving me my life back is bringing hope and the flow of some new creative juices.  My husband, Steve, just smiles a bit when I talk like this.  He knows that could mean a little more trimming around a new garden bed or hauling of something heavy to make it happen.  Oh how he loves me so!  Well I’ll let ya all know how it turns out for sure!

Steve brought me to see this home on our fourth date.  He wanted to know, “if things worked out between us could you see yourself living here?”  Talk about pressure!  I was visiting him in Indiana for the first time from the Chicago suburbs and certainly was not about to make a decision on the spot.  At least out loud, that is!  But I knew that the bush in the front-and-center of the bay window was a Miss Kim Lilac and just like the one I had lost with the townhome when my former spouse left me.  I also knew that the bush next to it was a burning bush that gets a magnificent, fiery shade of red in the Fall and just like the one I . . . well you can see where this is going.  It’s like when I viewed Steve’s profile on Yahoo Personals and saw a picture of him with a radio-controlled airplane that reminded me of the flying competitions in which my dad and brothers flew line-control planes when we were kids.  Of course I knew that the house was a great idea; I just wasn’t going to tell Steve anything just yet.  The home he purchased before we were married became a blank slate for me in remaking so many years that the locusts had eaten . . . . (Joel 2:25)

So I hope you can see how a simple thingy like some flower and vegetable gardens can be so meaningful to someone like me.  The draftsman in my Dad has become the designer in me.  His surprise generosity allowed me to create a living oasis that was an interest I shared with my mom when I became an adult.  Finding a loving place to realize these gifts would come in a way like never before when I found my intended beloved in the arms of my Stevers.  Solace, restoration, and hope were all set in motion regardless of my life’s circumstances according the plans of my Heavenly Dad, my Heavenly Husband; He knew all along the seeds He had planted in my heart long before I could ever dig in the dirt of life myself.  And just as life on this green earth began in the Garden of Eden, so do our own lives thrive in the planted spaces in which we are tilled and turned, watered, pruned, and nurtured until beauty bursts forth in scented color, in hope beyond that which we can see.

How can I be sad about the losses in my life when my Heavenly Dad has always been there with me?  From my garden bench I bid you a “Happy Father’s Day,” Gentle Reader.  I pray that you, too, will live in the fullness of life that grows more grand with each passing day:  a garden oasis in your soul where the One Who knows us so well can make everything meaningful, anything beautiful in the noon day sun or under the shade tree too.  JJ

Dad & me at his trailer