I'm going to write this post before I lose my nerve. It may not be pretty...and if it's not pretty, what then?
What if this post leaves the reader less than hopeful? It would probably be no worse than what most readers are struggling with this time of year. I still have hope...barely! Having hope is not something I manufacture out of the lonely recesses of my heart. Only by the grace of God and His Word, with faith, do I lay claim to hope.
Certainly my faith and hope are, at times, as fragile as a spider's single shimmering thread that trails behind. Having thrown caution to the wind the spider flings itself out into an uncertain space to land on the first thing that stands in its way--another tree, a bush, a fence post, a person. I've had the experience of walking into one of those sticky strands, admiring the four to six foot span, seeing from where it started and where it landed. A ton of faith from such a small package.
I wouldn't make a very good spider. For one thing, I'm too cautious. I would spend everyday of my short life in the same place, too afraid to venture into the unknown. (Altho' I haven't always been that way). For another thing, I have an innate fear/hatred of spiders and their webs. If I were one, would I hate myself? Are humans the only creatures with an ability to hate oneself and express that hate in deplorable and terminal ways?
One of the advantages of having a cane is that I can wave it back and forth in front of me, wrecking spider webs before I walk into one. Hopefully, the spider itself will have been diverted by my cane so that I don't have the horror of walking into it face to face, as has happened to me (shivering). I have repeated dreams of spiders vaulting off ceilings, with me trying to divert them from my bed, too horrified to move and escape the room. I usually wake up before the dreams end, left with the pictures of my dreams and a feeling of dread. There have been occasions where a spider really will drop down in front of my face--what a sense of humor!
On occasion, I've been awakened by my husband because I was moaning in my sleep, when in my dream I was having a terrible time trying to call for help and couldn't scream. I'm sure most of us have experienced that, like the dream when we're falling and wake up with a jerk without ever hitting bottom. That's what I'm talking about.
So, by now, you're probably wondering what spiderwebs, fear of spiders, and waking from a frightful dream have to do with grace, faith, and hope, and why am I choosing to bring this all up now?
1) First, does our normal life take a break during this sacred time of year. In fact, we're in the middle of the bluest time of year when the skies are mostly cloudy and gray. Life itself can be pretty gray, what with all the colds and flu bugs going around. No doubt, we need something to remind us of hope, giving us a thread to hang onto.
2) Aren't the Silver Bells and songs about Sleigh Rides all a publicity stunt for shop-owners to get their greedy little fingers in our wallets. I'm ashamed to admit those gimmicks worked on me to make a Merry Christmas from consumable or non-consumable litter, and other stuff I thought made others or me happy.
Now, that I'm 65 (gasp, I just gave away my age!), I still try to make others happy because they give me a list of stuff they say will make them happy. Harrumph! Just call me Mrs. Scrooge. If my retirement allows for the extra money needed to buy those items, than I'll be happy to buy and give. Can any-thing I choose to buy or make out of my small means compete with Smart Phones, Wii's, and iPads, or Ipods?
3) Perhaps it will be the thoughts and heart of the giver that will make the difference. Of course the receiver has to be careful of their reaction (excluding anyone from one to ten who find it impossible to lie). I can read several different languages: English, emotional response, those windows of the soul--the eyes, to a certain extent--the mind, and whole-body language. Of course, how I react is most likely read by the gift-giver as well. Reaction is more truthful than words--that's what I'm talking about.
Have I made any sense at all? If you say 'yes,' you get an A. If you disagree or find fault with any or all of it, well you still get an A for staying and reading my stuff and nonsense.
The Love of God, Jesus and His Spirit, and the Word be with you.
P.S. I'm not to be cynical about Christmas music. I love to listen to it anytime of the year. I especially love the ones with the real message of Christmas.
Monday, December 12, 2011
Saturday, December 10, 2011
Stopping By on a Winter's Day.
Yes, here I am for just a short span of time, in December, with Christmas music to inspire me. These last couple of months it's been easier to put one day's worth of thoughts into the short uninspiring sentences of Facebook. Not what I had dreamed I would do if I would someday write something, anything, worthwhile. But at least my family and friends can check Facebook and reassure themselves I'm still kicking. Sometimes I go back to Facebook to confirm my being alive, and the aliveness of others, on a certain day.
I thought I would light a candle on my site to increase my hope, and yours, that I will be back to resume my conversation. I've enjoyed catching up on the posts of some of my favorite bloggers who have been much more faithful to their readers than I.
Right now I'm trying to write in spite of a certain orange tabby cat, who came to live with me after my sister died last March, trying to jump on the keyboard. It wasn't possible for me to adopt the calico that lived in the same house with Sam E. I'm wondering if that's why he continues to be restless--he misses Teira.
Our calico, Bunny, refuses to allow Sam E. a place in our house, having a hissy fit if they chance to meet face to face. I had hoped they would grow used to one another by this time, but they sound like they're killing each other. I truly believe Sam E. would be her friend if she would let him. She was enjoying her singleness after our Siamese, Koko, died last year.
I hadn't planned on going on about cats, but they're influencing our life on a daily basis. I can't seem to part with either one. Bunny would have to be put to sleep as she has been imprinted exclusively by humans, namely me, since she was a tiny precocious kitten. And, though Sam E. hated me at my sis's house, he's imprinted me on his mind now because he didn't have any other choice. Besides, to me, he's an extension of my sis's life and he's a gentle giant as long as Bunny stays in the basement when he's out roaming, and in the office when Bunny is allowed upstairs to roam. The extra attention I've given him because of his fate has undoubtedly spoiled him and made him a needy-feline extraordinaire.
What a tangled web we (I) weave! Any kind of natural life has always been more to me than "just" a cat, or a bird, or a deer, or a tree (I'm a borderline tree-hugger). They're as real to me as any human, and I delight in them when they're alive and mourn them when they die. I personify them because I "see" their individual personalities which delights me.
Ah, well, I haven't alluded to the grand-kids which are one of my greatest joys. Need to update my sidebar pictures as well. Perhaps this isn't the best time to update a blogspot, with Christmas whirling closer and me not near ready.
Merry Christmas and Happy New Year. If I make it back before all the holidays are past, I will surprise myself. Till next time, God bless.
I thought I would light a candle on my site to increase my hope, and yours, that I will be back to resume my conversation. I've enjoyed catching up on the posts of some of my favorite bloggers who have been much more faithful to their readers than I.
Right now I'm trying to write in spite of a certain orange tabby cat, who came to live with me after my sister died last March, trying to jump on the keyboard. It wasn't possible for me to adopt the calico that lived in the same house with Sam E. I'm wondering if that's why he continues to be restless--he misses Teira.
Our calico, Bunny, refuses to allow Sam E. a place in our house, having a hissy fit if they chance to meet face to face. I had hoped they would grow used to one another by this time, but they sound like they're killing each other. I truly believe Sam E. would be her friend if she would let him. She was enjoying her singleness after our Siamese, Koko, died last year.
I hadn't planned on going on about cats, but they're influencing our life on a daily basis. I can't seem to part with either one. Bunny would have to be put to sleep as she has been imprinted exclusively by humans, namely me, since she was a tiny precocious kitten. And, though Sam E. hated me at my sis's house, he's imprinted me on his mind now because he didn't have any other choice. Besides, to me, he's an extension of my sis's life and he's a gentle giant as long as Bunny stays in the basement when he's out roaming, and in the office when Bunny is allowed upstairs to roam. The extra attention I've given him because of his fate has undoubtedly spoiled him and made him a needy-feline extraordinaire.
What a tangled web we (I) weave! Any kind of natural life has always been more to me than "just" a cat, or a bird, or a deer, or a tree (I'm a borderline tree-hugger). They're as real to me as any human, and I delight in them when they're alive and mourn them when they die. I personify them because I "see" their individual personalities which delights me.
Ah, well, I haven't alluded to the grand-kids which are one of my greatest joys. Need to update my sidebar pictures as well. Perhaps this isn't the best time to update a blogspot, with Christmas whirling closer and me not near ready.
Merry Christmas and Happy New Year. If I make it back before all the holidays are past, I will surprise myself. Till next time, God bless.
Saturday, September 17, 2011
Living With Challenges
Maybe I've mentioned this before, but if not, here it is: I'm going to quit going to doctors, well maybe I'll go to one if I have to.
Every time I go to a doctor I am subjected to another test or two which results in another diagnosis or two. My mother-in-law attributed her health and long life (103 yrs.) to the fact that she stayed away from doctors. She may have been right!
Now, I say, if I had a preference I would not choose Celiac Disease, which makes me change my diet--no gluten allowed. I must avoid all wheat, barley, and rye products. But there it is, and it's best I claim it before I suffer the worst consequences, which is a long list of illnesses I don't want, and including some of the things I already have that could get worse. Honestly, I was almost sure I didn't have Celiac as I have few of the symptoms.
When I was in my twenties I was diagnosed with Grave's Disease, an autoimmune thyroid disorder, which caused me to keep losing weight until I was down to 98 pounds. (You would not believe it now!) I chose RAI (radioactive iodine) treatment instead of surgery. Sometimes I wonder if that was a good decision. With hardly nothing left of my thyroid gland, I'm totally dependent on the correct dose of prescription thyroid hormone replacement.
Some doctors consider symptoms of low thyroid, others depend solely on the TSH test which shows how much thyroid hormone is circulating in my body. It's only after I've gained an extra 10-15 pounds and feel a real lack of energy (an honest couch potato), that the endocrinologist will finally increase the thyroid hormone replacement. Sometimes the pounds will start going back down, but often I have to starve myself a little to get it going.
It's a real roller coaster ride! Up, down, up, down. Am I having fun yet? Not!
So here I sit, a real conglomeration of autoimmune disorders: thyroid disorder, fibromyalgia (which I think is the result of a malfunctioning thyroid), diabetes II, peripheral neuropathy (the painful, rather than the numbing, kind--not caused by my diabetes II, but by autoimmune something), a striated muscle antibody, which could be another autoimmune disorder, or when added to other symptoms could be Myasthenia Gravis--what Onassis had--or a marker for cancer. Most recent discoveries are GERD (yep they found that too), and Celiac.
At least I can be thankful for one or several things. Most of these autoimmune symptoms are mild enough that it's been several years since I've had a full-blown -- darn, what's the word I'm looking for here? -- Anyway, my ANA, when last taken, was almost normal compared to a high 1-1280 ten years ago, which probably means nothing to some people.
I spend a lot of time trying to keep track of what I can or can't eat, taking my blood sugar; and trying to keep myself from giving in to depression. I keep telling myself, I can do this, I'll be okay, God is in control...but when can I get to a "normal" place in my life?
Thank God for the health of the rest of my family, and that I can still enjoy our grandkids, and our daughter and son. Yes, thank God for all the health I do have left.
I sometimes read the obituaries of many who have died that are younger than me. I check to see if my name is there, and once I know it's not, I count my blessings and keep going.
"But let me reveal to you a wonderful secret. We will not all die, but we will be transformed! It will happen in a moment, in the blink of an eye, when the last trumpet is blown. For when the trumpet sounds, those who have died will be raised to live forever. And we who are living will also be transformed." I Corinthians 15:51-52
Every time I go to a doctor I am subjected to another test or two which results in another diagnosis or two. My mother-in-law attributed her health and long life (103 yrs.) to the fact that she stayed away from doctors. She may have been right!
Now, I say, if I had a preference I would not choose Celiac Disease, which makes me change my diet--no gluten allowed. I must avoid all wheat, barley, and rye products. But there it is, and it's best I claim it before I suffer the worst consequences, which is a long list of illnesses I don't want, and including some of the things I already have that could get worse. Honestly, I was almost sure I didn't have Celiac as I have few of the symptoms.
When I was in my twenties I was diagnosed with Grave's Disease, an autoimmune thyroid disorder, which caused me to keep losing weight until I was down to 98 pounds. (You would not believe it now!) I chose RAI (radioactive iodine) treatment instead of surgery. Sometimes I wonder if that was a good decision. With hardly nothing left of my thyroid gland, I'm totally dependent on the correct dose of prescription thyroid hormone replacement.
Some doctors consider symptoms of low thyroid, others depend solely on the TSH test which shows how much thyroid hormone is circulating in my body. It's only after I've gained an extra 10-15 pounds and feel a real lack of energy (an honest couch potato), that the endocrinologist will finally increase the thyroid hormone replacement. Sometimes the pounds will start going back down, but often I have to starve myself a little to get it going.
It's a real roller coaster ride! Up, down, up, down. Am I having fun yet? Not!
So here I sit, a real conglomeration of autoimmune disorders: thyroid disorder, fibromyalgia (which I think is the result of a malfunctioning thyroid), diabetes II, peripheral neuropathy (the painful, rather than the numbing, kind--not caused by my diabetes II, but by autoimmune something), a striated muscle antibody, which could be another autoimmune disorder, or when added to other symptoms could be Myasthenia Gravis--what Onassis had--or a marker for cancer. Most recent discoveries are GERD (yep they found that too), and Celiac.
At least I can be thankful for one or several things. Most of these autoimmune symptoms are mild enough that it's been several years since I've had a full-blown -- darn, what's the word I'm looking for here? -- Anyway, my ANA, when last taken, was almost normal compared to a high 1-1280 ten years ago, which probably means nothing to some people.
I spend a lot of time trying to keep track of what I can or can't eat, taking my blood sugar; and trying to keep myself from giving in to depression. I keep telling myself, I can do this, I'll be okay, God is in control...but when can I get to a "normal" place in my life?
Thank God for the health of the rest of my family, and that I can still enjoy our grandkids, and our daughter and son. Yes, thank God for all the health I do have left.
I sometimes read the obituaries of many who have died that are younger than me. I check to see if my name is there, and once I know it's not, I count my blessings and keep going.
"But let me reveal to you a wonderful secret. We will not all die, but we will be transformed! It will happen in a moment, in the blink of an eye, when the last trumpet is blown. For when the trumpet sounds, those who have died will be raised to live forever. And we who are living will also be transformed." I Corinthians 15:51-52
Monday, September 05, 2011
Blah--What? Two posts in one day?
Did you ever go to the doctor feeling fine and come out feeling horrible? Last Thursday I had a stomach endoscopy by a really nice doctor. Well, I thought he was nice. I had virtually no symptoms, now I've got 'em for gastritis and GERD! Then I added insult to injury by looking on the internet for information. Now I really feel bad! Actually, I'm feeling as good as can be expected. Honestly I thought I was too laid back to have these stress-related disorders.
Apparently, I need to do some in-depth examination to see what I'm not doing right and what the heck I'm doing wrong to bring on this bad stuff. But, wasn't it in-depth stuff that got me here in the first place?
How about an appeal for deliverance, "Therefore my spirit is overwhelmed within me; my heart within me is distressed?" Psalm 143:4; and then in Psalm 131:1, "Lord, my heart is not haughty, nor my eyes lofty. Neither do I concern myself with great matters, nor with the things too profound for me."
If I must not concern myself with great matters nor with things too profound for me--although if it applies to you that's fine too...Having read and said that: I need to make a commitment to stop watching TV, reading too many books, writing too many books (obviously even one would be too much, since I haven't written any: Ecc. 12:12), trying to figure out economics and politics, trying to figure out the mind of a woman...Oh, oops, that would bring me right back to me when I'm not s'posed to concern myself with anything profound~~Ohhh, I'm getting dizzy.
There you have it. Already, I'm weary of having just said as much or as little as possible without getting into some kind of philosophy or theology of what it means to be alive or a woman. So, do I or do I not concern myself?
"Surely I have calmed and quieted my soul, like a weaned child with his/her mother; like a weaned child is my soul within me." Ps. 131:2. If only...
If only I would simplify my life by getting rid of stuff (mostly books) and the idea that I need to be concerned with things too lofty for me, and do my duties as a woman without thought or complaint, not only my life, but the lives of those around me would be simpler, right?
If only I could get a grip. I'm 65, feeble and frail, synonym intended, and still haven't got figured out why I'm here. Or, I've been in rebellion for almost a hundred years. If only someone would tell me why I'm still around, although I've been tugged in several different directions--too bad I've only got 2 hands and 2 feet.
While I'm entertaining the "if onlies" I've gotta get away from this perplexing situation and indulge in some of that everyday busy-ness of making meals, doing laundry, washing dishes, cleaning up after myself, my man, and a couple of useless house cats. Altho' the cats are a nice soft landing for banging my head when I have a day like today. Poor kitties. Innocent animals often have the big job of being sympathizers to ruthless humans.
Apparently, I need to do some in-depth examination to see what I'm not doing right and what the heck I'm doing wrong to bring on this bad stuff. But, wasn't it in-depth stuff that got me here in the first place?
How about an appeal for deliverance, "Therefore my spirit is overwhelmed within me; my heart within me is distressed?" Psalm 143:4; and then in Psalm 131:1, "Lord, my heart is not haughty, nor my eyes lofty. Neither do I concern myself with great matters, nor with the things too profound for me."
If I must not concern myself with great matters nor with things too profound for me--although if it applies to you that's fine too...Having read and said that: I need to make a commitment to stop watching TV, reading too many books, writing too many books (obviously even one would be too much, since I haven't written any: Ecc. 12:12), trying to figure out economics and politics, trying to figure out the mind of a woman...Oh, oops, that would bring me right back to me when I'm not s'posed to concern myself with anything profound~~Ohhh, I'm getting dizzy.
There you have it. Already, I'm weary of having just said as much or as little as possible without getting into some kind of philosophy or theology of what it means to be alive or a woman. So, do I or do I not concern myself?
"Surely I have calmed and quieted my soul, like a weaned child with his/her mother; like a weaned child is my soul within me." Ps. 131:2. If only...
If only I would simplify my life by getting rid of stuff (mostly books) and the idea that I need to be concerned with things too lofty for me, and do my duties as a woman without thought or complaint, not only my life, but the lives of those around me would be simpler, right?
If only I could get a grip. I'm 65, feeble and frail, synonym intended, and still haven't got figured out why I'm here. Or, I've been in rebellion for almost a hundred years. If only someone would tell me why I'm still around, although I've been tugged in several different directions--too bad I've only got 2 hands and 2 feet.
While I'm entertaining the "if onlies" I've gotta get away from this perplexing situation and indulge in some of that everyday busy-ness of making meals, doing laundry, washing dishes, cleaning up after myself, my man, and a couple of useless house cats. Altho' the cats are a nice soft landing for banging my head when I have a day like today. Poor kitties. Innocent animals often have the big job of being sympathizers to ruthless humans.
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