Your God is not big enough

If you can’t have peace when sick in bed on a drop dead gorgeous afternoon . . . your God is not big enough.

When the dog looks at you with worried eyes because she heard you yelping from the bedroom with convulsions and you wonder if you’ll survive the day . . . your God is not big enough.

A doctor gives you a new medication to calm you down and maybe even lessen your suffering, it doesn’t, and you wonder if you’ll ever get past the wretchedness, the repeated disappointments . . . and your God is not yet big enough.

When you are frustrated that dinner is finished after midnight, you are up on the internet after 2:00 a.m. and you lose faith that you will ever have a normal life . . . your God is not big enough.

If every day poses a new test to your resolve and there is none left . . . you have not learned to rely on a God that is big enough.

When your blog glorifies your own accomplishments, makes you appear stronger than you really are, and claims to know anything separate from the One who made you . . . you have not allowed your God to be big enough.

And if you can find a way to convey how small yet how loved you really are, how your forgiveness spans as far as the east is from the west, and how there truly is hope beyond Lyme disease or what you can see . . . your God is becoming big enough to believe.

So if you are suffering in any way like me and find yourself in doubt, in pain, despairing, angry, lonely, or worse, it’s time we both face the fact there is a God who is big enough to carry all of our burdens.  Let us come before His throne of grace this day and pour out our hearts to the One whose gracious thoughts towards us outnumber the grains of sand on the earth.  He wept for each one of us, He sweat drops of blood for all of His children, He died a tortuous death for you and me, and He rose from the dead to save us from the burdens of all of our troubles in this life.  In time, He will come again for you and for me to live with Him forever in paradise.

As you ponder this, I invite you to get to know just a little more:  the God who is big enough.  And if you have not yet invited Him into your heart, consider doing so this day too.  You will see what a difference His love will make.  Then you will say about the Lord Jesus Christ, His Word, His hope, His promises, the adventurous and mysterious life that he bestows upon us:  I just can’t get enough!

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To Hell and Back: Part 2

Continued from To Hell and Back:  Part 1
Back by Grace
I had caught a glimpse of hell on earth with the most violent seizure attacks that I had ever experienced in my life in the wee wee hours of the morning on July 5, 2013.  Our mini family reunion and gathering for a memorial service was shaping up to be a living nightmare with no end in sight; something like, “weeping, gnashing of teeth” were now my living hell as the Bible describes hell for those eternally separated from God.  But I have Jesus in my heart!  Nothing made sense.  Surely I felt as though I was dying.  I found myself asking:  where is God now?
The story continues.
It was inching closer to 6:00 a.m. EST on Friday, July 5th.  Since we were now in the CST zone, my husband, Steve, and I figured out between the ongoing attacks that we might be able to get a little sleep before the sun came up if these episodes would somehow stop.  But how?
The inner voice I have come to know as the Holy Spirit in times such as these suggested that I ask Steve get my industrial gas mask out of my suitcase.  He did, I strapped that baby on, and within 5 minutes the episodes had diminished in frequency, intensity and duration.  Just a low grade intermittent series of tic attacks remained and I started to be able to speak without eliciting further attacks.  Steve was already talking about packing up and going to a hotel immediately or even driving home tomorrow!  We doubted how we could possibly find the strength to do either option at this hour and what if I reacted to the hotel room?  Then what would I do?  Sleep in the car?  I wasn’t even sure it would be good for me to go to the car for awhile parked in front of my in-law’s because of the hot and humid weather of Arkansas:  perhaps I would suffocate in my sleep!
Then my waking prayer led me to suggest to Steve that he try to get some sleep and I would just lie there in bed for awhile until he was more rested.  I needed to trust that after some sleep Steve could lead us in what to do next and in the meantime the Lord would somehow sustain me.  I was a mess anyways so I should not be trusted to make any big decisions!  It was becoming difficult to breathe through the large respirator mask with my sore, constricted chest.  I was also getting very warm further aggravating all of the flared up noxious symptoms like the massive neck headache.  But I must wait anyways.  Neither one of us in no position to make a rational decision at this time.
Turns out that I was able to sleep about 2 hours.  I woke up feeling like my head was in a vice!  My chest tightness was actually reduced however, perhaps by breathing against the resistance of the respirator mask fitted to my face.  Wow, just like loosening a tight muscle through deep pressure, the intercostal muscles of my rib cage had relaxed enough to allow both breathing and sleep!  And somehow I was now fully awake.  I felt terrible but awake.  Then the next steps came to mind.
I gathered my purse, got dressed in my clothes from yesterday, grabbed some food and water from the kitchen and headed out to our car.  There was no time to worry about clean underwear and the latent UTI I was still battling.  Surely I would feel better after some nourishment as it usually had helped after past seizure attacks, so these would be my next steps.
The fresh air outside felt good.  It was considerably cooler and less humid than when we had arrived.  But geez (!) did it feel weird to be sitting in the passenger seat of a Dodge Magnum at daybreak, loaded with 21-foot and 19-foot surf skis on the roof!  How the heck could I remain inconspicuous in a fighter jet set up like that?  I saw the elderly neighbor next door walk outside to get his morning newspaper.  I’d been sitting there awhile, his house was for sale, and I was insanely curious about the listing information in the box in front of his house.  My how the delirious mind wanders!  But at that moment I just wanted to sink below the window line of the car door, if you know what I mean!
I must mention here that my husband’s family knows the story all too well of a really really close female family member suddenly leaving a family reunion with the family car sans family!  The father and his children were stranded several States away from home without transportation or monies to get home any other way.  Turns out that a couple family members helped them out and the dad rented a car for part of the trip.  Now here I am, relatively new to this family, suddenly disappearing from the bedroom, sitting in the “family car” with my set of car keys, and no one knows what is going to happen next!  I knew that I was not going to leave to go anywhere until someone in the household woke up, even if I knew that practically speaking, I could take time to find a hotel while everyone was sleeping.  But leaving a “ransom note” simply would not be enough to remove the reminder of the old wound.  Leaving would just hit “too close to home” if you know what I mean!  I had to stay put.
Then I noticed that the neighbor next store had come outside again, this time to take an early morning walk.  He was now talking to another neighbor just up the hilly, winding street.  Taking a walk was one option I had considered to kill time so I got out of the car.  The H.S. was working again and the idea came to ask the gentlemen about other hotels or rental properties within the community.  I knew that my mother-in-law’s house had been rented in the past.  Perhaps there are other homes like hers, maybe one with hardwood floors?
Turns out that the men were very friendly and helpful.  The retired Baptist preacher told me that a house across the street was was a rental and there was a sign with a phone number posted over the carport.  We walked over to the house and I copied down the phone number.  I thanked him as we finished chatting and returned to my fighter-jet home base to start making phone calls.
My dearest Steve walked up to the car about then to check on me.  I updated him on the information that I had just learned and said that I felt awake enough to start making phone calls.  He was still so exhausted that he needed to return to bed.  I didn’t see a problem with that and kissed him goodnight once again.  Before long my in-laws, my “other mom” and “other dad” as I call them, were up and checking on me as well.  With tears I shared what had happened (and would learn much later that night that they had heard me crying earlier and knew something was wrong).  I did not want them to feel bad as they had graciously opened their home to us to stay with them for the weekend.  Later I found out that they never got the Facebook message about my sensitivities!  Sigh.
Within a few minutes, my “other dad” and I were checking out the housing options that sounded suitable for me.  Over the next several hours I had done a sniff test at the local hotel, had another seizure attack and mostly recovered, toured one of three rental houses, rented one, stopped at the library, and returned back to their house to pack up the car.  By this time my Divinely-sustained energy on two hours of sleep was waning.  Like a damaged war plane on auto pilot, I eventually got to bed after some food, supplements, spit bath, etc. around 3 in the afternoon.
The townhouse rental worked out reasonably well as alternative housing.  I could prepare all of my special dietary foods without inconveniencing or even offending my “other mom.”  My in-laws’ provision of a place within the gated community of Hot Springs Village even gave my husband’s sister and husband a place to crash closer to family for two nights with us in their own suite.  Staying with us saved them hours of driving and increased our time to visit with them.  Sweet.  Unfortunately my time was cut short some by some more attacks (cause I’m still on Lyme antibiotics that flares up the attacks too) but it was still more time overall than we would have had if they were staying an hour away where their vacation had started.
Steve and I had some very sweet respite in that townhouse in Hot Springs Village.  We got to share our surf skiis with our family at one of the beautiful lakes nearby too.  If you read between the lines, this means that I got back in my surf ski kayak for the first time in a year!  For that, I am also grateful.  It felt great!
“To hell and back” is my sentiment for this past long weekend.  Going forward, my antibiotic regime is about to change to better address the UTI.  Perhaps I will tolerate the Levaquin better this time than in the past, for having endured the wretched side effects of the Doxycyline I’ve been on the past 2 weeks.  As the long weekend continued, I ended up reacting to environmental toxins in more places than my in-laws’ home and generally recovered o.k. after each. Gratefully, the reactions were in private, my preference.
So the Lyme and the Chronic Inflammatory Response Syndrome certainly did not take a vacation this Fourth of July holiday!  And yet I can’t help but see that having the attack and spending time with my “other dad” brought us closer together in a way that probably would not have happened if everything had gone  smoothly.  I saw a tenderness in him on Friday that I will cherish.   Steve and I have only been married five years.  Sometimes it takes a lifetime to have a connection like that with your “other dad” . . .
There’s a saying that I’ve quoted in this blog before that bears repeating here:  When going through hell, don’t stop!  Yup, that’s a funny one!  The take home message is this:  if you but do as scripture leads, with the guidance of the Holy Spirit in the name of Jesus Christ, our suffering (seizure attacks) will produce endurance (on 2 hours of sleep), our endurance will build character (to enjoy time with my father-in-law), and our character will produce hope (that our suffering will not be wasted).  I encourage you to mediate on Romans 5:4, where these themes are found in God’s Word.
When going through hell on earth do not stop.  The Lord is working and it will be for our own good and joy.  He promised for those who believe in Him (1 Peter 1:6-9) and in the end there can be great joy!
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Best to Hang in There When “There” is Unknown Territory

With a brain fog or spaciness that defies definition, I humbly submit this blog update!

Tuesday began 2 doses of a promising new treatment for Chronic Inflammatory Response Syndrome:  vasoactive intestinal peptide or VIP.  The first dose was at noon and the second was at midnight.  I felt a little on edge as I went to bed within the hour of the second dose, followed by a few tic zips (such as the norm for me these days!).  What I didn’t expect next was the fearful images that passed before my eyes as I entered sleep mode.  No problem, really.  That’s what prayer is for and I called upon the Lord to sanctify my mind.  Prayer answered.  I was able to fall asleep without any more problems.

My next surprise came with an abrupt wake up at 4 in the morning with a vivid nightmare!  When I say vivid, I mean that the bats in my mind were landing on me, in color and I could feel them!)  Frightful indeed!  Low grade tics quickly escalated into seizure attacks, air hunger, shortness of breath, and at least 20 minutes of rotating noxious symptoms.  Not sure which was worse:  the nightmare or the aftermath!

I have had nightmares and this type of experience before.  The last one was at least 2 weeks ago so the timing may or may not have been related to the new medication.  After all, the pharmacist said it was a “benign” drug and my LLMD said that 50 mcg is a low, loading dose.  Yeah right.  I am overly sensitive to everything right now so it is no surprise that a nasal spray of a new hormone, deposited directly into the capillaries in my sinuses and leading into my blood stream, could shake me up a bit.  Sigh.  No problem again.  This is familiar territory.

Wednesday I decided to take a break from the VIP when I awakened feeling pretty beaten up.  For my daily treatment I just ran some Rife programs, slept some more and had a pretty good day overall for me.  The post-attack headache subsided and I was able to take care of a personal appointment and run a few errands.  I forced myself to get out and work in the garden later and it was soothing therapy.  I praise the Lord for His gift of Spring renewal here in the Midwest.  I love living here.

I took the next dose of VIP on Thursday at noon.  My nose started running right away but this didn’t last very long, thankfully.  Then brain fog settled in followed by a ramping up of my nearly constant companion of a low grade headache.  Regardless, I got going on some insurance matters that have needed attention for over a month.  Guess I’m at the next tier of taking care of things since moving home March 27th;  I was glad to “getter done.”  The day was going fairly well so I got to go to church with my hubby for the National Day of Prayer Service at our calvary chapel.  How sweet it is to worship with my Stevers, to pray, and to fellowship with other believers.  It had also been about a month since the last time I was able to go to church.

The worship was awesome.  However, during the service the music was sooooo loud, and the bass was soooooo loud that both of us had to plug our ears even though we were sitting in the back of the sanctuary under the balcony!  Turns out that plugging my ears is not enough to avoid sensory overload.   I cannot tolerate the vibrational sound energy and bass wavelengths of loud music.  I do not understand why it has to be so loud anyways?  We are there to worship the Lord Jesus Christ, not hurt our ears!  Unfortunately, things did not go well after I returned to wait for Steve in the car. I had to get out of there before the spill-over into seizure attacks would begin.  The music was the trigger that turned this multi-sensory-sick child of the King into what would turn out to be a 12 1/2 hour episode of seizure attacks.  As rocker Alice Cooper once sang, “welcome to my nightmare” once again.

Gratefully I was able to get out of the car by myself when we got home and walk gingerly into the house.   Gratefully Steve was available to help lift me off the couch two hours later after eating and resting, so I could get ready for bed.  Gratefully I was able to attend to my own self care and even make us some food earlier during one of the breaks in the action.  Gratefully I have some new positioning strategies in bed to minimize the impact the uncontrollable shaking has on headaches and other painful areas.  Gratefully Steve prayed for me both before we fell asleep and in the morning before he left for work.  Gratefully I was able to make a snack when I woke up ravenously hungry at 4 in the morning!  Hmmmm.  There’s that “4” number again.

The attacks tapered down by the time I was to finally get out of bed at 9:30 a.m.  Just a quick jolt welcomed me to my day and I was able to take care of myself and our dog.  Once again I was pretty beat up by the events of the last evening.  Twelve and one-half hours had passed since the episode began and it was finally over.  The shell of the person that is Julie was leftover to slowly get going, make my special dietary items, and take care of the stuff of life before my afternoon physical therapy appointment.  Gratefully I was able to start then later finish and mail the jewelry order that was due today.  But in the middle of the day and during physical therapy, there was another rebound episode of neuromuscular events followed by copious tears.  I am so sad.  This is really hard.  I am really broken.  Gratefully my therapist is trained in some calming techniques of myofascial release that work really well with me.  Even at my low energy level with soreness all over my body, I am now able to function again.

So this is chronic illness and the ups and downs of recovery.  One day you are excited for a promising new treatment and the next you are herxing from a reaction to the promising new treatment.  The physical therapist says that the seizure attacks seem “softer” than the ones I have had in the past.  O.k., I guess that’s good.  Maybe it is just part of the process of assimilating a new drug that crosses the blood-brain barrier and into a zone where illness has a foothold at the moment.  Sure is a tough road, I’ll tell ya.  Recovery is not for wimps.

At this point is usually where I write about my faith in the Lord Jesus Christ, sustaining me and giving me hope in the face of severe testing and trials.  If you’ve read this blog before, you probably know what I am about to write here.  You might expect me to say what a difference it makes to have Jesus in my heart or I would be filled with despair.  I usually say a lot about His sustaining grace as I truly believe that my life and these experiences are for my ultimate good and His glory.  Yes, I am softer in many ways than before this illness began.  This suffering will end someday.  I know where I will be when it ends.  Do you?  Do you know where the trials of your journey through life will lead you when your life ends?  If you do, does  your life show it?  Oh I hope so!

If you have not turned to the Lord as your Saviour, lover of your soul, forgiver of your sins (and you all have them, sorry folks, no one is perfect), and hope for all of eternity, then  what the heck are you waiting for?  How many blogs do I have to write about suffering before someone out there that isn’t saved gets it:  the meaning of life is not all about YOU, it is not all about ME.  It is all about HIM.  It ain’t about a religion either.  It is about a relationship with the God of the Bible.  Until we are given an eternal perspective that He provides and transcending joy that He grants beyond measure when we but believe in Him, all we have is our fallen human condition.  Now that is sad indeed!  Our problems will never all be solved in this life.  We will hurt.  We will lose things and people and places that we love.  Our experiences will be a mixed bag at best.  We will fall short of the peace we seek when we realize that in the end, the stuff of this life adds up to dust, to nothing at all.  We can’t take anything with us when we die.  As the wisest, richest king that ever lived (King Solomon) once said, it is all meaningless!

Yes, it is best to hang in there when there is unknown territory.  I am taking Jesus Christ with me.  My eternity began when I accepted Him into my heart as Lord.  Oh gentle reader, will you too?

P.S.  Going for a walk with my pup, a friend and her pup.  God is so good.