13 But when he, the Spirit of truth, comes, he will guide you into all the truth. He will not speak on his own; he will speak only what he hears, and he will tell you what is yet to come. 14 He will glorify me because it is from me that he will receive what he will make known to you. (John 16)
Jesus spoke these words as he was instructing the disciples about the Holy Spirit they would receive at Pentecost. These words came hours before He was to be arrested, tried and convicted of crimes He did not commit. He would be tortured, beaten and crucified in fulfillment of the scriptures that were written hundreds of years before He was born. All of this happened so we could be saved from the consequences of our sin and live forever with Him in heaven. For those who believe in Him, He dwells in their hearts, comforted and counseled by the Holy Spirit. Call it supernatural intuition if you like. Sometimes you just know something to be true, the right way to go. For followers of Jesus Christ, walking in the Spirit of truth is a smidgen of heaven on earth: one’s heart can be at peace at last.
I experienced this today. A phone consultation with a second physician within a week brought hope. I felt like my heart was at home in her care. I was moved to tears when Dr. B. confided in me her faith in the Lord, shared how she had reviewed my records at length in preparation for our appointment, and led me through a plan that incorporated everything that has transpired in the past 2 years. She has experienced biotoxin illness herself and has worked with the leading authority in the United States on this topic. Her gentleness calmed my fears. She listened. Hey guys: I am going to get well!
This next phase in my “Hope Beyond Lyme” journey will likely take another year. The treatment steps will include baby steps such as 1/4 tablets of medication, micro nutrition, retesting at better labs, and plenty of out-of-pocket expenses. At this point I am trusting the Lord to provide, to guide. My husband has been a great spiritual leader during this time of illness and I know he will lead us in these next steps as well. I am so glad I followed his advice not to fly across the country for medical consultations! We could not have afforded it anyways. And now the Lord has provided help from a clinic just a 2 1/2 hour car ride away. Pure Michigan. I’m going home to my home State for healing!
O.K. I don’t know if everything will be rosy but hey, I have hope again. Gentle Reader, isn’t that just swell? :J
Sometimes you move forward. Sometimes you move backward. And most of the time you just go sideways or don’t move at all! Know what I mean?
When I worked in rehabilitation we had another phrase: recovery is always a jagged line. A person makes progress then might regress a step or two before making the “big gains” in strength, walking, functioning, and the like. Many times my patients would not believe me when I said this to them. I understood their frustration. In our fast-paced, achievement and results-oriented American society, it is really tough not to be getting ahead in some way every day. Well as the old Starkist tuna commercial used to say, “Sorry Charlie.” Sometimes it just doesn’t work out that way.
Not only does every person not always get where they want to go, not every person gets selected to try for his or her dreams. These can be a real bummer for sure. How we handle these delays or changes in the course of our lives may likely determine our character. Certainly how we respond reflects our maturity as adults, or for Christians, whether or not we are trusting in the Lord who promises a plan an purpose for our lives (Jeremiah 29:11). While there are probably other reasons we could explore ad nauseum, I’m going to leave it right here. Ultimately we must get over the failure to achieve the goals we have set for ourselves when it just isn’t going to happen. You just never know. Something better might be on the horizon . . .
Several times I have planned to complete a special project and was never able to start it. (This has happened a lot over the past two years!) In general, the main reason wasn’t even procrastination. The reason often has had to do with the reality that something better is waiting for me in the future. Take my decorating idea folder, for example. About twenty years ago when our drapery panels in our living room became damaged from the sun, I really wanted to create a custom window treatment that I’d seen in a magazine. Somehow I would need to design a tracking system where the wall met the ceiling before such systems were even available. We didn’t have any wood shop tools at the time and I was unfamiliar with the fine art of making draperies. However I did know how to sew and had a creative streak so that was enough for me to move forward and figure it out. Sadly, it wasn’t meant to be.
The townhome got sold with the sun bleached draperies pinned from behind to hide the sections that were threadbare. The problem? My former husband doubted my ability to complete the project. Where would we get the materials? How would we install it? Where would I find the time to make everything? All of the ongoing questions discouraged me from trying to find the answers. A creative person makes something happen along the happy journey of figuring it out. He or she doesn’t have everything worked out at the start unless there is a pattern or kit with instructions. This decorating project simply was too much for the two of us to come to an agreement. It wasn’t meant to be back then.
Flash forward about ten years later and it was meant to be. Through unfortunate circumstances I found myself single and rebuilding my life in another city; so much had changed. To pursue a creative project would become “occupational therapy” for me and help me to make my new place a home. I knew exactly what window treatment would adorn the sunny sliding glass door that overlooked the lush courtyard beyond my balcony. This time the time was right.
A co-worker told me about a textile company that sold unbleached muslin by the pound. Yeah, that’s right! Yards and yards of fabric would be super cheap and just right the right color and style for my project. I even found material to line the panels all through that poorly marked, rusted back door entrance to the factory. There were huge bolts of fabric everywhere! “Yeah God,” I said to myself. This is good!
The next challenge would be measuring and cutting an inordinate amount of material on the laminate floor of my 3rd floor condominium. To say my knees were hurting from crawling around cutting all that fabric, would be an understatement. Then I wondered how was I going to sew all this yardage at my modest kitchen table? The answer soon came when I was house-sitting in a lovely home a short time later. The man of the house was a contractor and had a HUGE desk in his office for viewing his drafting plans. That desk was perfect for sewing yards and yards of fabric too: spilling all over the place in their spacious loft. Cool beans. I sewed and sewed to my heart’s content. Cool beans again.
Now to make the tracking system to suspend the panels next to the ceiling. Somehow I stumbled upon a lumber store just off the railroad tracks in an industrial area of a neighboring town. The guys at Owl Lumber in Lombard, Illinois were great. Not only did they help me configure the crown-molding style curtain rod, they metered the corners and pre-drilled the holes for the mounting pegs for me as well. I installed about a dozen pegs into the crown molding, sanded, painted it white, and coated it with polyurethane. Now all I had to do was mount it on the wall . . . without a ladder . . .
Gratefully I had an extremely sturdy coffee table that became a suitable platform for the installation. (You simply could not kill that wooden beast so it followed me through 8 moves over the years. Finally it got sold on Craig’s List 5 years ago!) I got all the tools and supplies together, my friend Jeannie came over for dinner and a little window treatment project, and we gals went to work on a Friday night. The only problem was that the building was over 30 years old and there was concrete not wood studs underneath the drywall! My wood screws would never hold the weight of the solid wooden rod that measured about 8 feet long. Oh well. Back to the hardware store I would go for mega concrete bolts and a new drill bit. Of course I had a darn good drill that would handle the job. 🙂
The next hurdle was the fact that Jeannie was not available the next weekend to jump back into the project again. What was I do to? How could I possibly wait when I was this close to pulling it all together? This thing was massively heavy and I was hoping to mount it at a height that would require me to hold it at a height near the end of the reach of my arms overhead. How could I do this alone without dropping it on my head? By sheer will power and determination, that is! I figured out the measurements of the holes for both the wall and crown-molding rod and pre-drilled the holes. I figured that if I could slip in a few bolts by hand and tighten them, they would hold enough for me to get the rest of the bolts in as well. I also used my head . . . literally! And with only one close call, Lord willing, I gotter done! Success!
The finishing touches to hang the panels were beautiful silky-type cording that I found at a local drapery supply store. Wow: so cool to live in a large city at the time where I found a place where practically half of the store was drapery trims and tassels! I made a loop and tied it with a Josephine macramé knot, reminiscent of 20 years earlier when it was first vogue to macramé. I was single then too and had macrame’d lotsa stuff! Hand sewing the loops to the panels was a labor of love, quite meaningful for me. Then I was ready for my big reveal to, er, myself. Would it all come together? You be the judge. I loved it! To open it each morning I gently draped a loops hidden on the backside of the middle of the bottom of each panel to hooks on the wall along the outer sides of the panels. At night I released the loops and the panels closed like the massive curtains at the end of a theater stage play. Yeah, it was cool. Yeah, it was worth the wait. I was stoked and thanked the Lord for restoring the years the “locusts had eaten” once again. (Joel 2:25)
That’s me in 2007
This is an important story for me to remember years later. I’m in a situation now where I can’t do projects like this as I recover from a serious illness. I am grateful for the Lord’s gift of writing and the warm reception to my eBook released a couple of weeks ago (see side panel for details). Just this morning I was wondering what would be next? Then I realized that I really can’t do anything more right now. The book got finished because I had some better days; those days are gone for now. I’m hoping to catch up on some long overdue regular medical appointments like an eye exam tomorrow morning. EEEEK! Will ya look at the time? Anyways, these next few weeks I won’t be moving forward. I’ll be taking care of the stuff on the back roads, so to speak. Perhaps there will be other types of meaningful discoveries along the way, perhaps not. For now, the stuff of life has my time and attention.
Maybe you can relate? Whatcha got going on this week, Gentle Reader? Do take care, k? JJ
I am grateful for the love, care, and support of some special folks who have helped me make it through nearly two years of serious illness. I am also sad for those who have left my life or misunderstood this time in my life. Hardship is not contagious folks!
First, the good stuff. The person nearest and dearest to my heart is my beloved husband, Steve. I am amazed when I gaze into his blue eyes at the sincerity of his love for me and for the Lord too. When he comes close and holds me through a tough episode, cradling my neck in his hands to comfort me and minimize the trauma of various noxious symptoms, I am humbled! There are not many people on the planet that would do this even for a loved one two years “down the road.” Many would become exasperated, angry, indifferent, or worse by now. Thank you Lord for this amazing man. Thank you for my “Jesus with skin on.”
The next group of folks closest to the fire, so to speak, who have helped me to survive are my Lyme Literate Medical Doctor and our local Lyme disease support group (who are largely his patients). You understand! You get it! And you believe me! When my Doc calls me on a Saturday with the name of a pharmacy where I can get a medication almost $100 USD cheaper, I am grateful! When it’s my turn to share at our monthly Lyme group meeting and my tummy is happy from the yummy snacks we bring that fit our special dietary restrictions, I feel loved! And then when we exchange text messages or Cindy, or Roberta or Diana offers help with a special task, I am humbled. Oh how I pray I may serve you too in your time of need.
A few dear friends and family members have witnessed and endured much of the past 10 years of this incredible journey of transformation. I love the kind of relationships that go on no matter what life brings, picking up when we meet again as if no time has passed. I hope my brother Mike, Brenda, Deb, Kinsey, Patrice, Mary, Judy, Maria, Tami, and a few others feel the same way? Now that my parents and grandparents have passed away, I appreciate even more my extended family including my Other Mom, Other Dad, Uncle Dave, Aunt Lori, Aunt Patty, and Aunt Shirley. I love you and thank you for investing in my life.
There’s a special place in my heart for the online community. Whether I met you on a Facebook Lyme forum, your blog or when you commented on my blog, I credit you with keeping me sane at the odd times of day when no one else cares! Thank you for your “likes,” for following this blog, for your comments and suggestions, for your time. The greatest gift from a friend is a gift of his or her time. When you reach out to me I know that I am not alone. While the internet can be a ruthless place, I am grateful for it’s goodness, especially when I am awake in the middle of the night. It’s pretty cool that my buds in the UK or West coast of the US are online when I am! Please let me know how I may return your kindness.
I’ll save the best for last. In the interim, I’ll briefly state my sorrow for those who have chosen to leave my life. He or she will not be reading this so I won’t waste much white space gushing this or that emotion. I am grateful that when I have endured hardship in the past, I learned the importance of letting go of the people, places, and things that leave my life at these times. Perhaps saying goodbye makes room to welcome the blessings that are to come? Thank you for all that you have taught me. Godspeed, dear ones. I’ll be here if you want to stop by for a chat or walk around the block in the future. As for the things, well they are just things. So long.
And now for the best: the One who knew me and my frame before I was born, fearfully and wonderfully made by Your guiding hand. (Psalm 139) I love you Lord and thank you for saving me from my path of destruction as a young woman. I praise you for crafting the incredible events of my life to bring me more blessing than I could have ever imagined in the middle of my journey on this earth. While I do not fully understand the sorrows that have come, I am convinced that You hold my tears in your hand, counting and caring for each drop, every pain. I have never felt alone. Thank you Jesus for bringing me to Your throne of grace where I may dwell in Your presence now and forevermore. Grow my trust in Your promises, Your plan for my life, Your will for me all that is around me in this world that is troublesome. Come soon my Lord!
So for all of you and you and you and you and You who have made a difference in my life, I give thanks. If I have screwed up somewhere, please let me know and consider forgiving me. I want to make it right if I can. And if any good comes from me, these blogs, or anything else, to God be the glory. He is worthy to be praised!
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!
Sometimes you simply have to wait for the next steps to be revealed.
Felt lost again today sitting in the hotel room, trying to function, and working my way out of the stress of being displaced indefinitely. My husband, Steve, was able to contact the insurance company about out potential mold restoration claim and the word continues to be, “we are waiting on management” to make a determination.
Tomorrow I’ll meet a friend at my home, donn the respirator mask, and take down the Christmas decorations. Thank you Cindy Jakacki-Null! Later I may have an appointment to fix my hair; long overdue. Life goes on, you know, and having things to do helps manage the stress of what still feels like a crisis situation. I pray constantly and feel the Lord right here with me, ordering my steps, keeping me calm, helping me to shower and complete a load of laundry today.
That’s all I can do today. Steve will be over later for dinner and stay with me. I love and miss him. I’m working on letting go of everything and living in a smaller increment of time than when I was very sick. This situation and these feelings will pass. I know this because I have been in this situation before and have seen the Lord’s incredible faithfulness, mercy, and blessing for His glory. “It takes what it takes” for His purpose to be revealed in me and you. I did enjoy some fellowship time at our church last night by the way; that was a huge accomplishment and the first time in many weeks . . .
My life was upside down in January of 2005. The divorce I was forced into was finalized; my mom was suffering 300 miles away, the effects of lung cancer treatment; my car had died and needed replacement within a day; I had just settled into a new rental condo and a fire in an adjacent unit displaced me in a temporary apartment for four months. I was traumatized by escaping through a firy stairwell. While some of the circumstances were different, I felt lost then like I do now. I was unable to tolerate the stress of working in a mental health hospital that requires each staff person to participate in take downs of out of control patients. I sought outside help to sort things out. Some time later, I confided in a couple of deacons at my church, psuedo-father figures, and asked them what to do. They advised me to stabilize my situation through purchasing a place of my own. Talk about a leap of faith! I had not yet recovered from the emotional and financial ruin of divorce when the new crisis occurred. I did what I had to do and moved forward on faith.
Soon thereafter, the Lord began the restoration process. The empty rental apartment to which the insurance company had moved me provided no reminders of my former life and every opportunity to reflect, pray, renew. Strange how things work together (Reference: Romans 8:28). I purchased a few simple items to make the place “home” and followed the Lord’s leading in re-creating my life. Within a relatively short time, I was in a lovely new 2-bedroom condo in a very desirable area of town. Financial blessings arrived in very unexpected ways: gifts, insurance settlements, and more. My new home was lovely and in many ways better than my town home in the past. My balcony overlooking a lush courtyard was a menagerie of flowers, a window box from my childhood, a restored outdoor mirror, native grasses, sparkly beaded garlands, and a tea set for two. The Lord provided me with yards and yards of cheap unbleached muslin from a local textile company to create a custom window treatment of which I’d always wanted. Rich ceramic tile adorned the powder room in chocolate leather-distressed motif and in a sandy beach-like texture in the master bath. My office reflected a Japanese company motif of which I had become fond with a sculpted cream carpeting. Then came the mural . . .
In the center wall bisecting the unit, the true healing work began with a 15-foot collage of natural papers. Words of poetic inspiration had become my writing therapy at that time and became the centerpiece of the design. I had never done anything of this scale before and have not had a desire to attempt another project like it since then. By the end of the year, the work was complete. I had also finished a course with a healing prayer ministry about this time. Yes, it was time to celebrate so much. We held a special service in my home with the inner circle of friends who had witnessed and the Lord used to facilitate the transformation within me. The inscription on “the wall” in drop-down area in the living room read simply in the words of Winnie the Pooh: “I likes me best when I’m with you.”
Within a year, the next party in my home was an engagement party. Wow! How much fun we had with the scavenger hunt to help everyone become acquainted with the love of my life, Steve Horney. The place was packed! When I look at the pictures of that special evening one characteristic was clear: everyone was smiling brightly! Me too. Tee hee. The Lord had restored the years the locusts had eaten (Reference: Joel 2:25).
So it is with great faith and a weak, recovering frame, that I wait expectantly on my Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. He was my strength in 2005 and is my strength now.
I think my laundry is done. Talk atcha later . . . :J
P.S. The week before the fire in the earlier condo apartment, I had just finished painting a different mural on a center wall. The design was a metaphorical representation of a bridge, symbolizing moving from one chapter in my life to the other. I had hoped to paint a silhouette of a woman on the wall, pointing towards an outside window but couldn’t find a suitable design to copy. Sunday night, January 19, 2005, I had just finished my laundry, cleaned my apartment and was settling down with my favorite snack when the fire alarm went off. Turns out I would never return to live at that apartment again. Many weeks later in relaying this story to some dear friends, they had a poetic explanation for me of the incomplete design: I became the woman on the wall, crossing over the bridge to my new life. Yes, I believe so! Thank you Jesus for my new life and for being there with me every step of the way. That frightful night you reminded me of my life verse that I gratefully depicted on the new mural in the new home. Please see Jeremiah 29:11 for the hope we all have when we but believe in Him who saved us.
Jesus is for the Wounded 
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