Into the Unknown

A picture I unknowingly took before things went south. 

         Wow. I did not think this would be so hard to write about. As a matter of fact, I don't really want to write about it at all, I'd rather just pretend that it wasn't happening, that I wasn't suspended in the terrible "unknown" where the good is as likely to happen (maybe even more so) than the bad, but that is exactly where I am.

    You may be wondering what exactly is going on, well, I would like to know that, too, but I will tell you the little that I know. I want to write it all down, every detail, because regardless of how it turns out, I already know this is a memorial stone. So here is all I know.

   Monday I made (or thought I did) appointments at the eye doctor for the kids and me. Wednesday, the day the appointments were, I called to double-check the time. And was informed that I did *not* have any appointments. There had been a mix-up. A little frustrated, but I was able to reschedule for Friday. We ended up seeing a new optometrist, and he wanted to dilate the kids' eyes. Jocelyn wears glasses, but Carson has 20/20 vision so I thought it was a little odd. But the optometrist felt it was a good idea to do it every few years and Carson has never had it done, so we went ahead. I have had my eyes dilated sooo many times, so I knew exactly what to expect. Which is why when the doctor repeated part of the exam I felt my stomach drop. He asked Carson to look up and to the right with his right eye. And stared. And then asked him to do it again. As soon as the doctor finished looking he said he wanted to "get a few pictures". Again, not the norm. He led him to a machine in a different room and I knew for certain something was off when he could not seem to get a shot of a very specific something. When I saw the images come up on the monitor in the area, even though I am not well acquainted with how the back of an eye should look, I was well aware the large black dot on the image was not right.

      The doctor was wonderful. He informed me my intuition was correct, the chorodial nevus, the official name for the black dot, was not normal. It is like a mole on the back of your eye, and while they are not rare, it isn't something they want to see, because like a mole on your skin, they must be monitored and are often the first sign of cancer. Never something that a mom wants to hear. I was trying not to panic, and I know it seems like there wasn't much at that point to be concerned about, but as soon as the doctor mentioned that they need to be monitored to ensure they aren't cancerous I flashed back to over 10 years ago, to the last time that I was hearing a doctor mention the possibility of cancer in my son's eye.  And, then the doctor proceeded to tell me that this particular chorodial nevus did not have the halo they like to see, or the white dots, in other words, my son might have a common condition, but it was presenting in an uncommon, or concerning, way. Kind of like if a mole has irregular borders, or is growing.

     I did manage to find the presence of mind to ask about the concerns we had when Carson was little-could it be possible that issue had anything in common with this one? Instead of allaying my fears, the doctor immediately started taking notes on everything I said. He did assure me that he was directing us to the best specialist he knew, and that it was important to convey all that information to the doctor at the referral. He did mention cancer, again, and the importance of catching and treating the type of cancer that can be caused by this type of thing as quickly as possible. Unfortunately, much of what he said was kind of fuzzy around the edges, because I just kept hoping he would say, "But I'm sure that is not what this is." He didn't say that.

     And that is where we are. I'm waiting for a referral appointment to find out if my son has cancer. In his eye. Which if he does, he will lose. And cancer that can metastasize and be fatal. I am *really* trying not to think about that. Why do I want to remember this pain, this uncertainty, this feeling of someone holding me by the upper arms, pushing me down? Because God is good. In this place called the "unknown" He is very much known and knowing. I firmly believe that our appointments on Wednesday never materialized because we needed to see this doctor, today. He was the one who would strongly urge dilation, a procedure that I would have declined, except for his gentle insistence. And I have no idea if Carson has cancer, only God does at this point. But the thing is, this memorial stone will be there either way-and I don't want to forget that God is the same, whether my son is healthy and whole, or if he is at this very moment headed towards a painful medical ordeal. I don't want to forget that I need to cling to Him every moment the way I am clinging to Him right now. When the end of this particular chapter of my testimony closes, I don't want to dismiss it as "nothing". God is working here, He is working now, He is working always. And while I can't see how this will turn out, He can. And when He puts the finishing touches on this part of the story I don't want to forget any part of it, because all of it is in His control and He is working it all together for my good and His glory.

     I picked a word for 2020 a few weeks ago. It is "flourish". I always base my word on the Scripture I choose, this year it is Jeremiah 17:7-8:

⁷ 

“But blessed is the one who trusts in the Lord,
    whose confidence is in Him.

⁸ 

They will be like a tree planted by the water
    that sends out its roots by the stream.
It does not fear when heat comes;
    its leaves are always green.
It has no worries in a year of drought
    and never fails to bear fruit.”

     I don't know if this is a year of drought. I don't know if the heat will come. My frail human spirit prays that it won't. But I do know that the unknown is the very best place to trust, and confidence in the Lord will never be misplaced. I know because He always keeps His promises. 

G.I.G-Day 8

   We had an excellent sermon this morning that reminded me that a huge part of gratitude is remembering what God has done for you. I have a thing for "memorial stones"-marking the times when God's faithfulness has been overwhelming apparent so that you can remember them. And it is impossible not to be thankful for His provision in those times. Today, I have been flooded with those remembrances, and just live the writer of Psalm 136, after each of these memories I can loudly (and usually with tears) proclaim, "His love endures FOREVER!" (Psalm 136:1b NIV).

Today I am thankful for:

1. Jocelyn's early delivery. Exactly two weeks before her due date, 3 days before her daddy deployed to Iraq, and right on time for God.

2. Joel's release from the Army. I could write a book about God's provision during that time, and we are still being blessed by that event today-and not just because he doesn't have to deploy every 18-24 months.

3. Our move to Washington. The Lord just worked everything out-it was beautiful, and so very Him.

4. Gracelyn's heart. I am *not* counting this twice. I wrote about it here, but guys! SHE HAS A NEW HEART!

5. God being smarter than I am. Carson (his conception, just to be clear) was a surprise, and one I needed so much more than I realized.

6. Every move I had to endure as a child. Each one brought me closer to where God wanted me to be, and I wouldn't trade one step along the way.

7. Joel's job. God orchestrated that one so well...He is just.so.good.

8. VBS. This is really just a whole bunch in to one-attendance, provision, young hearts receiving salvation... VBS memories give me chill. Want to watch God work? Invite a whole bunch of kids into your church, work your buns off, and HE WILL COME!

Yep, yep, thinking about all these memorial stones makes me want to yell. Stand on the rooftops and proclaim His awesomeness to everyone around. I will stop writing, but I will not stop basking in the glow from these snapshots of His faithful and enduring love. Memorial stones and gratitude? Inseparable, I say. What has God done for you?

In The Midst

   I feel like I haven't been around much-not like I want to be, anyway. I have some posts that I need to work on, but I will be honest: I just haven't felt like it! I hate that I am so temperamental, but that's just the way it is. It isn't any one thing, but rather a whole bunch of things.

   You see, I'm  in the midst. I read stories all the times about people who have "made it through"-tough transitions, job losses, moves and the like, and I try to draw hope from them. But the reality is, to me anyway, that it is easy to talk about provision and God's blessings after you have crossed through a trial and made it to the other side. Hindsight is 20/20, right? The past is all about rose-colored glasses. But I seem to have lost mine, and it doesn't matter much anyway, because I am so focused on the present, and the future.

   I keep trying to remember all the ways that the Lord has blessed our family, all the trials He has brought us through. (A few deployments, a transition out of the military, tricky health situations, just to name a few...) There have been so many! Also, it is not in any way as if my life is bereft of His hand even now-I am surrounded by family and a set of ready-made friends. He has not lost sight of us, not for even a second.

   But I keep losing sight of Him. The clouds crowd in and day-to-day seems frightening and overwhelming at times. I keep second-guessing myself, my husband, and even the Lord. I try so hard not to worry and grow anxious, but it is truly a moment-by-moment battle. Some days, I do really well. I am cognizant of all of His promises: to always care for us, that He has plans, that we are infinitely precious to Him.

   But some days, today being one, all I can see is the seemingly rising flood: my husband's job is tenuous at best, not really enough to make ends meet, no matter how good I am at being frugal. We don't have a place to call our own, and while my parents have been beyond gracious, staying with them was only meant to be a bridge, a temporary resting place on the way to hopefully buying our own home. Well, the door seems to be closed on that right now, and we are trying to rent and even that floats in and out of reach.

   This post isn't to garner sympathy-although prayers are always welcome. I haven't forgotten, no matter how dark the day, that I am richly blessed if the only good thing that had ever happened in my life was salvation in Christ. And I have so much more than that. It is really just to be honest. To say that I am in the middle, wading through the deep, unable to see the shore. I am fighting the current, and I am never alone, but sometimes-when the waves force me under I lose sight of the hope I have in Christ. I am writing to remind myself that when we do finally cross through (because "this too shall pass") that it was just as hard as I remembered it-which will make the relief so much sweeter when it is provided. It is a "memorial stone" in the midst of the waters, a promise to myself that I can trust without knowing. I'm passing through...yet, He is with me. God is good...

Linked at:
"Motivation Monday" at A Life in Balance

The Aftermath

Last week, the threat of fire; now the promise of rain...

It has been a little more than one scant week. Just a few days since we were terrified, begging and praying. Wondering and worrying. Heartbroken and helpless.

     And now, we are in the aftermath. I realized that they must call it that because of all of the calculating that takes place. The tallying of things lost versus the things saved. Adding the positives, subtracting the negatives. But does it really work that way? 81% of the homes in the area were saved- but does that mean anything to the 19% who are now sifting through the ashes to find any remnant of the building they had loved into a home? 32,000 evacuated, only two were lost. That is such a tiny percentage it didn't even merit figuring. But I bet God knows. 70% contained, 30% still left to wreak havoc and prove points.

   And where does that leave me? Moving on. Which I have really discovered is code for "forgetting". That day last week seems a lifetime ago. A very bad, very foggy memory. But I have been doing some math of my own. If God gives me the opportunity to thank Him, to honor Him, to realize that He ultimately controls all the circumstances that surround me, if He uses His power in every situation to bring glory to Himself, and I add all that up and then don't take away anything more than a sigh of relief, I have come to the wrong answer.

   This is one of many opportunities that brings me to a crossroad in life: will this be a memorial stone, or will it merely be a pebble in my shoe on the journey? Something that bothered me, but after first opportunity I stepped to the side, pulled it out and tossed it away? Or will I anoint it with oil, set it up, and return to it when I need reminding that I am never more than a turn around the bend away from tragedy, but I have been called by name and redeemed?

"Jacob set up a stone pillar at the place where God had talked with him, and he poured out a drink offering on it; he also poured oil on it." Genesis 35:14

    No one wants to remember all the bad. They want to be happy with the good, the things provided for, the miracles that take place. But I want to remember that I serve a God who works good in all things-not just that ones that deserve the fairy tale christening of "happily ever after". I want to remember the thunder and the lightening, the smoke and the flames, the fear and the trembling. Because all that reminds me I am utterly, helplessly, hopeless, thankfully dependent on Him to provide, to rescue, to redeem.

     I want to remember the tears, and perhaps cry them again. I want to keep that feeling fresh-I want to add it to my list of  Jericho walls stormed to the trumpets of prayer, knowing that the success didn't come-not even in the slightest from me, but from the only One who has power. I don't want to be given great sums of grace and mercy and take away nothing. I *want* to remember. I want to impart meaning to this that far outlasts the few hours of its actual occurring. Because if I stood by the burning bush and all I took away was some smoke scented clothes that I washed off and put away, then I have missed the real meaning. I have been told to "Take off your sandals, for the place where you are standing is holy ground."(Exodus 3:5b) It is my choice whether I walk away and only see dirty feet or whether I allow that experience to transcend and become something that opens my eyes to things that are far outside the realm of the dirt and smoke that filled those few days.

"But whoever lives by the truth comes into the light, so that it may be seen plainly that what he has done has been done through God. He must become greater; I must become less." John 3:21,30

I want my answer to be far larger than the sum of the positives and negatives. Because in the Lord's calculations, it is only when I become less that I can actually be more.

Pet Rocks

I have talked about the big changes that are coming our way before. We are really getting into crunch time, now. Joel received his form the other day from the big wigs that decide whether or not you are "fit for duty". We knew what his would say (due to his ankle surgery last year, he doesn't meet Army requirements), but it felt so very official to see the paperwork that said he was no longer eligible for service. And so much more real.

We are preparing to take a vacation. I know, it doesn't seem like the best time to me, either. But Joel really felt like this might be the last chance we have to do this for a while. To me, it will make the next couple of weeks fly by, and right now, I would rather that time stand still for a few minutes.

But, as everyone who has ever parented small children knows, time stands still for no mom. Every day seems to run away on winged feet, leaving me hopeless to catch it and actually make sense of things. And we all know what a worrier I am. I like to have things all planned out, and be ready for the future. But that, to beat a dead horse, is impossible right now.

So, I am trying to focus on the positive. And thinking about that reminded me of memorial stones. Memorial stones, like the ones from Joshua:

"So Joshua called together the twelve men he had appointed from the Israelites, one from each tribe,and said to them, “Go over before the ark of the LORD your God into the middle of the Jordan. Each of you is to take up a stone on his shoulder, according to the number of the tribes of the Israelites, to serve as a sign among you. In the future, when your children ask you, ‘What do these stones mean?’ tell them that the flow of the Jordan was cut off before the ark of the covenant of the LORD. When it crossed the Jordan, the waters of the Jordan were cut off. These stones are to be a memorial to the people of Israel forever.”
Joshua 4:4-7 (NIV)

They are memories of the time the Lord has provided in my life. Sometimes in completely miraculous ways, other times in ways that are "normal" but that still affect me deeply. Focusing on these things, these concrete examples of the Lord's working in my life, reminds me that He will not change, and since He has "engraved me on His hands" (Isaiah 49:16) He is not bound to forget in the future.

Often, He has come through in the 11th hour (His timing is perfection, but often it seems so close to "too late" in my human mind). I can't help but remember Jocelyn's birth: Joel was deploying to Iraq on the 1st of December. I was due on the 8th. The doctors wouldn't induce me. I was hysterical. I kept praying and praying, literally begging God to allow Joel to see our first child before he left to fight a war I wasn't promised that he would come home from. I was living in Texas, no family or friends nearby. It brings tears to my eyes to think of it every time. It was an impossible situation.

But God was there. And on Thanksgiving Day, we gave thanks for our new daughter. The one who arrived BEFORE her dad left. All through God's power and provision. Nothing I did could have changed that situation. I was completely dependent on the Lord. And He did not disappoint. We celebrated our few brief days as a family, and treasured the memories during that long year apart.

That memory is a memorial stone. A record of His care for me during a humanly insurmountable difficulty. During a time when I couldn't do anything, He was able to do everything. And He didn't even ask my opinion, but when I realized how futile it was to continue to to try to rely on my own strength and when I gave it over fully to Him, He gave me the desires of my heart.

You would think that I would have the faith of a Hebrews 11 hero after that point. But, I can be as forgetful as the Israelites. Here I am again, worried and stressed, after a million examples of how He has answered every question I have ever had. So, I go back. And I remember. Because to forget might be on the of the greatest tragedies in a Christian's life.

And sometimes, I am tempted to go drag rocks out of the ground to build a tangible monument to His grace, to have a physical pile of stones sitting in my way, reinforcing my fragile memory. But as the Israelites moved on, so must I. I must discipline myself to remember. I have to make these things the pure, lovely, of good report thoughts that I should be having (Philippians 4:8). Picking up these little pebbles and reviewing them, knowing them intimately. And that is a good practice, one I am sure I will be tested on sooner rather than later.

Soothing the Savage Beast

We have been doing some major over-hauling around here. No worries, I am not planning on moving or anything else drastic-I think I just finally realized that we have lived here for three years and I really don't love this house. So I have been trying to make it something that I am at least happy with most of the time. I have realized that I can't stand clutter and I have really developed my philosophy of keeping only things I truly love AND use. I realized that I was keeping a lot of things because I was worried that I would need it and not be able to replace it. Ummm, if I haven't used it or needed it in the past year, chances are good I won't even remember I ever had it!

Anyway, in all this crazy de-cluttering and sorting (please don't get the image that my house is a giant disaster-it isn't, I just realized we can live with a lot less than we have been) I ran across my CD collection. In my laundry room. Isn't that where you keep yours? Well, I realized I hadn't listened to any of them (there was only about 20) in about three years. My first inclination was to donate them, but then I realized that I had put them there because when we moved into this house, I did not have a CD player. I have one now, and have for a while, but since I had not been able to use them for so long it had kind of been "out of sight, out of mind." So, the CD collection was one of the few things that I gave a second chance. I moved them from the laundry room to the kitchen (because that is where the CD player is. Makes sense now, right?) and have been thoroughly enjoying reliving my teenage years.


I am so thankful that I have a Godly heritage, especially concerning music. I remember when I was in early elementary school that my dad made a decision to only listen to Christian music. We always listened to either the radio or Christian tapes in the car. I loved singing along to Sandi Patty, Larnelle Harris and Steve Green. My parents only allowed us to purchase/own Christian music. As I moved into middle school, I loved Michael W. Smith, Amy Grant, 4Him and especially Steven Curtis Chapman. Then in high school I really started to develop my own musical taste. I liked Jars of Clay before they were really popular. I also loved DC Talk (only from Jesus Freak on!) but I really liked some of the lesser-knowns. I had CDs of groups most people have probably never heard of: The Normals, Seven Day Jesus, The Waiting, and PFR (who by then had already disbanded but I loved their final album). This is also when I was introduced to some of the bands that I still love today-Switchfoot (my brother introduced me to them), and the Newsboys (I can thank my sister for that!). I own 9 Newsboys CDs and can affirm that they are my favorite band. Ever. When everyone else was listening to the Spice Girls and Brittney Spears, I listened to the Small Town Poets. I will fiercely defend Christian music-but that isn't the point of this blog.


I really think that my parents' commitment to guarding our hearts, via our ears, was a huge part of forming my character. I am intensely attracted to anything musical- if I hear a song, even on a commercial, it sticks with me. I have always been drawn to experiencing God through music. But it has never been limited to hymns or worship music. I almost always cry when I hear Thousand Foot Krutch's "This Is A Call". I can really meet with God over some Relient K, too.

Anyway, most of the albums that I have been revisiting are from my high school years, specifically my junior year. That was a pretty important time in my spiritual walk. In "Experiencing God" it talks about memorial stones, and I think that whole time is one for me. God revealed a lot about Himself, His forgiveness, and His plan for me. The music that I listened to during that time really tied into that. So when I began listening to it all over again, it brought it all back for me. Remembering how the Lord led me through a tough time in my life (even if a lot of it was of my own making) and how tender He was in ministering to me. How He gave me new friends, and showed me how to walk with Him more closely. All of those feelings came flooding back when I put in those old CDs. This song from The Waiting was one of my favorites then and listening to it again recently was definitely a spiritual experience:

So Much of Me

At the foot of the ocean I'm hearing winds whisper and waves shout
The storm of the morning is clearing, the tide is running out
I'm feeling obviously small
A little of this sand is all I am
A bit of dust blown from Your hand

Chorus:
You made the wind, You made the sea
Why do you make so much of me?
You made the stars and every creature that breathes
Why do You make so much of me?

In the heart of the evening I'm counting the stars set in the sky
Getting lost at a hundred or fifty or so
I'm thinking I can only hide in some hole I carve in the earth
What am I worth?
I'm just a speck, a candle in Your universe

Chorus

And here I stand
A bit of dust from Your big hand
What am I worth?
A candle in Your universe

(from the Waiting "Unfazed")

What a wonderful thought- so like Psalm 139- I am nothing, or I should be, but He sees my value, He gives me my value. Revisiting this particular memorial stone, for me, through music, reminds me of what He has been to me, and what He WILL be. Not what He can be, but a definite. He cannot change, so what He wrought for me in the past, He will surely do again. I have changed in the last 11 years (some of it thankfully!) but He is still the same. Hebrews 13:8 "Jesus Christ is the same yesterday, today and forever." This music definitely soothes my savage beast. When I am questioning and afraid, I am reminded that He hasn't failed me yet, and He never will.

That is the beauty of having some sort of spiritual marker. Just as the Israelites set up stones by the Jordan, we should have places that we revisit to remind of what God has done for us. Music has a powerful attachment for me- play a song for me that I love and I will be taken back to the place where I was when I first made the connection. I am glad that I did not part with these CDs. I have a few more I still haven't had a chance to listen to. I can't wait to see where they take me. I challenge you to set up some of your own memorial stones, whether they are music, a specific book, a verse or a photo. Keep the things that remind you of how God has guided you on His path, and bring them out when you feel there is a chance He might let you down. Then you will know He most certainly can't!