Between the Pain and the Promise

This past Saturday morning I received a phone call from my son, Mark. He is the pastor of a small church in a small seaside community about 9 miles south of where we live. The night before, Friday night, his church and ours had a combined youth “lock in” held at our church.  There were about 25 kids total who attended, plus Mark and our 3 youth pastors.

Mark was so distraught when he called that I literally could not understand him. He was sobbing – and saying something about one of his teens. Now he is a great big kid himself – and I mean big in every sense of the word. He is about 6’ 1” tall and weighs close to 270 pounds. He has a great big heart – filled with love for everyone, but especially for the teens in his church. He was a youth pastor for many years before becoming a senior pastor 4 years ago. So when he was this upset, I knew something terrible had happened.

He was sobbing because one of those precious teens, a girl of 16 that I will call Jenny (not her real name), who had been at the lock-in the night before, had taken her own life a few minutes before he called me. Jenny was best friends with my grandson’s girlfriend, Sarah (again, not her real name). Jenny and Sarah and two other teen age girls worked together on a horse ranch and had all walked out to the big barn together. It was Jenny’s job to clean the stalls in that building, so the other three girls left her there and headed out to their areas to work.

A few minutes later, they each received a text from Jenny saying “This is the worst thing I’ll ever do,” and then they heard a gunshot. By the time they raced back to where they had left Jenny, it was too late. This beautiful child of Jesus had done the unthinkable.

No one knew she was upset at all; let alone this troubled. She had not shared with any of her friends what her plans were. They don’t know where she got the gun. Her last words spoken to my son when she left the lock-in were, “I had a great time tonight and I’ll see you for sure on Sunday.”

Sarah called Mark, her pastor, in shock and disbelief, not knowing what to do. I think she called him before they call 911.  How do you minister to a 16 year old who is standing over the body of her best friend? What kind of answers can you give her and all the other children in both youth groups that are struggling to make some kind of sense out of this tragedy?

And my son called me just after Sarah called him. I rushed to his home, and held him as he wept, cradled my 16 year old grandson in my arms as he sobbed out his grief and anger, and cuddled my two younger grandchildren as they tried to understand why their friend Jenny wouldn’t be there at church in the morning.

Friends, I have no answers. I could only point them toward Jesus. I could only weep with them, hold them and plead for my Savior to ease their pain. I did not know Jenny, and have never met her parents. I can’t begin to imagine what they are going through.  I don’t know if they have a personal relationship with my Lord or not. But I am asking that somewhere, between the pain of yesterday and the promise of eternity, Jesus will make himself known to them today. I covet your prayers for this family, and for this community and for our youth groups as they walk through this very dark valley.

Thanks, as always, for listening. Caro

The Photo Album of My Mind

Again, sorry to be away so long. One day I’ll be able to do what I love most – write, write, write! But for now, I remain obedient to where God has me, and that means my life is incredible busy, and I only get to indulge in my favorite activity now and then.

Today, April 20, 2012 marks 15 months that I have been sober. I didn’t even realize I was at another milestone, until I noticed the date. And the reason I noticed the date, is that April 20th is my heart friend’s birthday. I was sending her birthday greetings on Facebook when the date jogged my memory.

I have written about my heart friend before – Connie – who I had hurt years ago. I wrote about “Abba’s Gift” – his restoration of our relationship. Today I want to write about what has been most prominent in my thoughts lately, and how my Abba used my something my heart friend taught me years ago, to help heal some of my deepest wounds.

I have two beautiful children – adults now, and married with kids of their own. My alcoholism did not begin until the kids were pretty much grown and out of the house – off to college. So I was blessed to enjoy a wonderful relationship with both of them, without a lot of damage done to them from my disease as they were growing up. My daughter, Aimee, likes to say she grew up in a “Beaver Cleaver” household. Of course, she didn’t – we had a lot of issues, just like all families do, but she holds fast to her own memories, and that is a good thing.

I remember one particular time when she was 14, and I had just discovered a devastating event involving her. We fought – the first time we ever did, and she ran away. It was late in the evening, after dark, and I took off in my car, looking for her. To my dismay, I spotted her – barefoot, in shorts and a tank top, walking alongside a road that was not a safe area at all. Just when I thought things were as bad as they could get – they got worse. Before I could reach her, a policeman stopped, got out of his car and started to take my beautiful daughter into custody. At that moment, a picture was formed – etched forever on the memory of my mind. I can close my eyes and see her being put into his patrol car, and immediately I am transported back there – with those same feelings of despair and hopelessness.

Things eventually worked out; I approached the officer and he allowed me to take her home. The situation that had caused the rift in the first place took much, much longer to work through and caused wounds for both of us, but we got through it. But what I remember most is a conversation with my heart friend – Connie – a few days later. As I was describing the situation for her and telling her I could not get that horrible picture out of my mind, she shared something with me that brought such comfort; something I have relied on over and over again as my mind pictures have shifted and been added to over the years.

Connie told me that my time with Aimee was like a picture album, and though this particular picture would remain, eventually it would be replaced with other pictures – pictures of her on her wedding day; pictures of her with her own children, pictures of the two of us together, enjoying that special relationship that only mothers and daughters share. And she was right. Now when I look at the “Photo Album of My Mind” – I sometimes pause and gaze momentarily at the picture of Aimee and the policeman. But more often than not, I linger much longer on the pictures that developed since then. My favorite is of her and her daughters. I love watching her parent her own girls – and though she isn’t perfect and has made mistakes, as all of us do, I see her mother’s heart, and I rejoice that God, in his wisdom, not only gave us the ability to add photos to the album; he teaches us how to focus on the ones that matter most.

Scripture promises that God will restore what has been taken away – even if we are the ones who caused the loss to begin with. When it seems like life is at is bleakest – remember, he promises to restore (repay) the years the locusts have eaten.

“I will repay you for the years the locusts have eaten—
the great locust and the young locust,
the other locusts and the locust swarm."—Joel 2: 25

Next time I will write about how this idea of the pictures etched forever in our minds has come full circle. Aimee’s daughter, Shayla, my granddaughter – now almost age 14, is going through some really hard times. Though it is so difficult to watch, and it hurts us all, I am once again reminded that our Heavenly Father – my Abba – knows all about our struggles. And he always has the answer.

Today, I choose to rejoice as I flip through the pages of my mind’s photo album, learning from the pictures that remind me of heartbreaking times, and celebrating the ones the remind me of all the joy I have been blessed with.

Thanks, as always, for listening. Caro

Daffodils In My Potatoes

Song of Songs 2:12

Flowers appear on the earth;

the season of singing has come,

the cooing of doves is heard in our land.

First, I apologize for being away so long. Life has a way of needing to be lived and sometimes I find myself doing what NEEFDS to be done, rather than what I WANT to do. And for any new readers of my blog, a quick review of my life will help the rest of this post make more sense. I am almost 58 years old, I have been a pastor’s wife for over 35 years, and I have been married to my husband, Cliff, for almost 40 years. I am a recovering alcoholic and have also abused prescription drugs in my past (which makes our pastoral ministry very interesting, to say the least). I went to an inpatient treatment center in January-March of 2011 and have been sober for one year, 1 month and 15 days. Last year was a journey and a half – including not only my treatment and recovery, but also things like open heart surgery for my husband in October; followed by 2 large pulmonary embolisms that almost killed him, complete with a 3 week stay in the hospital, most of it in intensive care; the loss of a cousin to suicide; and the unexpected death of my father 3 days after Christmas. There was more, but those are sort of the highlights.

Today I’m writing about daffodils and potatoes and a lovely lady I’ll call Tina (not her real name). Tina attends my Celebrate Recovery women’s group on Monday evenings. She has been sober for almost two years. Tina simply exudes joy - in a most endearing and childlike manner. We may come to group feeling down, disheartened and discouraged, but we are always cheered when Tina enters the room, flashes her impish grin and opens the discussion with a tale from her week that always makes us smile.

Last night she was so excited, she was bouncing. She shared that last summer she had planted a bunch of potatoes in a container, but they never flourished; instead, they died rather quickly. When she happened by yesterday morning, to her astonishment she found a bunch of wild dwarf daffodils had taken up residence in the middle of her potatoes.  Tina was absolutely delighted. She had always wanted some of those little daffodils, but had never planted any. She was sure her husband had surprised her, but he assured her over and over that he had not. Finally, she decided they were simply a present from God. When her husband scoffed at that idea, suggesting that instead a bird had probably dropped the bulbs, Tina was undeterred. She just clapped her hands in glee and exclaimed – “But God sent that bird to put those daffodils in my potatoes!”

Friends, recently my life has been filled with “potatoes.” When Tina was telling her story, my mind flashed to all the things that have seemed somewhat dull and shapeless lately. There is a mentally challenged woman in my life who is very needy and clingy, and if I’m not careful, she sucks me dry with her myriad of problems. There is a couple I am working with, in the framework of recovery who are mired in the depths of their disease, and it is exhausting to see them wallow in their misery. My own granddaughter is temporarily living with our youth pastor and his wife, because she is so angry at her own parents, who are also recovering from chemical addictions, and the sorrow I feel at that situation often causes me to stumble, as if tripping over another large potato. A co-worker, who is also a friend, constantly stops by my office to complain. And the list just goes on and on. I feel like all I have been doing lately is stooping over and picking up yet another boring or cumbersome potato and trying to heave it away, only to see a larger one in its place.

The vision Tina’s story created for me was one of pure joy. I could just see God instructing birds to drop some small bulbs right in that container of potatoes. Tina was especially overjoyed, because she knew they were there just for her. When I asked her how she could be so sure, she beamed again and exclaimed, “Because—I didn’t want just any old daffodil—I wanted those little short ones. I’ve ALWAYS wanted some of those, so that’s what God gave me.”

I am humbled by Tina’s acceptance of God’s gift into her life. While I have been so focused on all the problems around me and the many demands that threaten to overwhelm me with their subtle minutia, I have a feeling God has been busy planting flowers in the midst of my potatoes, and just waiting for me to notice them. So today, I took the time to leave my office for a half hour walk, trusting that the work on our budget could get by without me for awhile and started searching for those flowers. And what do you know? Right at the edge of the trail I took, peeking up over logs and branches, and pushing their way through the tall grass, reaching for the sun – there were daffodils all along my path. They weren’t there a few days ago, and in my heart of hearts, I believe God placed them there this morning, just hoping I’d notice them.

I challenge you to take the time to find those daffodils that are dancing in your potatoes. It will make you smile and I think it will make God very, very happy.

Isaiah 35:1

The desert and dry land will become happy;

the desert will be glad and will produce flowers.

Thanks for listening. Caro.

In Whose Image?

I suspect most of us are very familiar with the passages in Genesis that talks about God creating us in his image. Genesis 1:27 tells us

So God created mankind in his own image, in the image of God he created them; male and female he created them.

I have been thinking about this for a while now, ever since I heard a snippet of conversation on the radio about being created in God’s image. The person was admonishing his listeners to be better, more righteous, yes, more perfect – because, after all, we were the only image of God some people would ever see, and we needed to be an accurate representation of who God is – and what he expects us to be.

I have to admit; I got fed up with hearing all of this and turned the radio off.  But it got me thinking about God’s image and what that meant to me. Or should mean to me.

Here is what I have decided. I am created in God’s image – the Bible clearly states it. But the image of I now carry with me is not one of the stern and demanding overbearing father. Instead, I see his image as an accurate reflection of who I am.

Now, don’t hear me wrong. I am not saying I am all that wonderful – like God is. Neither am I without flaw or sin – as God most certainly is. But when I think of being created in his image what that means to me is that God has expressed himself in us; in me. I believe God sometimes feels disappointment, as I often do. I think he feels anger and even rage, as I sometimes do. I think he loves to laugh, as I certainly do. And I think he loves me with a love that is beyond comprehension, a love that I can only begin to relate to by comparing it to my mother’s love; and maybe even more to my Nana’s heart.

I am blessed to have two children, both married to fine Christian spouses. Between them, they have given me 6 beautiful grandchildren (was there ever an ugly grandchild)? Sometimes, when I am trying to feel God’s love more fully, he reminds me of a scene from several years ago. Two of my granddaughters are now 13 and 10. When they were just 4 ½ and almost 2, we lived a few miles apart. One sunny afternoon, I heard their van pull up, and I went out onto our deck to wait for them. As soon as the door slid open, Shayla, the oldest, scrambled out and took off at a dead run for me, shouting “Nana!” at the top of her lungs. Her little sister, Shyanne, waited impatiently to be released from her car seat and I could hear her demanding “Down! Down, Daddy. Now!’ As soon as possible, she too wiggled her way out of the van and as fast as her little legs could take her, she charged up the walk and into my waiting arms, crying “Naa! Naa” which was how she pronounced Nana at the time.  To say I was pleased to be greeted like that is a gross understatement.

I have often thought of that day and I think that is how God wants me react to him – with unabashed joy, total abandonment, crying out his name. I think my favorite image of my Abba is him stretching his arms out to me and gathering me close, then swinging me around and around with joy, as I did to my little girls that long ago afternoon.

Colossians 1:15 tells us

The Son is the image of the invisible God, the firstborn over all creation.

Certainly, Jesus, God’s firstborn, exhibited all kinds of emotions when he walked this earth. And he is the absolute image – and pattern – for my Father. I only hope I can grow more like him – whether that means I cry, laugh or just sigh in exasperation at times.  After all, I AM created in his image. What a relief that is!

Thanks, as always, for listening. Caro

Does Jesus Care? (Part 2)

Last time I wrote, I shared how I had felt the compassion of our Savior when my father passed away unexpectedly on December 28, 2011. But now I want to share how he has recently reminded me that he also cares for me in the day to day events – the minutia of every day moments.

Last week, I had to travel a few hundred miles away for some training for my employment. Since I work for a government agency, documentation is paramount. On this past Monday, I gathered up my receipts and discovered that somehow, between my home and office, my gasoline receipt had gone missing. Now, I am pretty careful of things like that. I knew exactly where I had put it, and it had disappeared. All my other receipts were there, but this one had simply vanished. (I had placed it inside the cover of my Kindle.)

There is a second part to this issue. I have a co-worker, who is supervised by me that is not my biggest fan. She had to absorb the bulk of the work when I was off so much last year, both during my treatment and when I was caring for my husband. She was already frustrated with me, and is not known for being patient when people lose things. That is one of the reasons I am always so careful with my receipts – I have to turn them into her. If one is missing, well; it isn’t a pleasant experience. So I spent Monday – Wednesday frantically looking everywhere for the recalcitrant receipt. I even remembered to pray – daily and often, begging God to please intervene.

This morning I had decided I had to come clean and admit I had lost it. But as I was getting dressed, I was praying about it again, this time asking God to guard my attitude today, and I had the strangest urge to look under my dresser. Now, there is no reason the receipt should have been there – I hadn’t even had my Kindle in the bedroom. But I obeyed. And guess what?

It wasn’t there. That’s right – it wasn’t there. I admit to being a bit confused; usually when I sense such a strong urging from the Spirit – I can figure out what He wants to show me. But I kind of shrugged and continued to get ready. The last thing I did was go into the living room and pick up my Kindle from the table I had placed it on the night before when I was reading it. You must understand - I had taken that Kindle apart and there was no receipt. As I picked it up from the table, my eyes were instantly drawn downward, to where the receipt was laying in plain sight on the floor. I know it hadn’t been there the night before. I really have no idea where it had been or where it came from. I don’t much care. But I smiled, enjoying God’s huge surprise for me.

Does Jesus care? Yes, dear ones, he does. Whether it is in the midst of deep grief or in the “minutia” – He cares. I wrote last time that Jesus gives God a face – and that face is often streaked with tears.” (Quote taken from Philip Yancy’s book “Grace Notes.”) Today I am here to also assure you that God’s face is sometimes creased with laugh lines – and his eyes are full of a twinkling joy, as he gives good gifts to his children.

Enjoy God’s good gifts today and thanks for listening. Caro

Does Jesus Care?

I have been away for awhile – once again life has interfered with my ability and desire to write. My last post, just days before Christmas, talked about how Jesus gives God a face – a face with tears streaming down it as he shares life’s pain. When I wrote that, I had no idea how I would need those words in the days ahead.

Christmas was beautiful for us this year; the best we have had in over a decade. We dialed the gift giving way back, spending time with cherished friends and family. Christmas carols rang throughout our house and laughter was the main ingredient as we celebrated Christ's birth. It was all so good.

And then the next day, December 26th, I received a call from my sister. My Father had had a heart attack and was not expected to live. With my husband, and my children, I raced to his side. I stayed there with my sisters and we held each other and held our Daddy as he struggled to live. And at a little after 1:00 in the morning on the 28th, surrounded by his children and grandchildren, he breathed his last and stepped through the front door of heaven.

My Dad was a wonderful Christian man and I loved him. I was much closer to him than to my mother, who passed just over 10 years ago, so this was incredibly hard for me. And it sort of capped the year I had had. If I am being honest I was tempted to be bitter and to ask why I had to go through yet another heartache. But my own words came sweetly back to me in the wee hours of the morning as I sat huddled and alone in a corner on a cold hospital floor, trying to wrap my head around what had happened. I clearly saw Jesus’ face – and could not miss his tears. And I was comforted.

I have chosen to thank God for the time we had, through his long life and for the chance to whisper my love for him into his ear and hear of his for me in return. Though I miss him, I am not lost in my sorrow.

Do any of you remember the old hymn, “Does Jesus Care?” Its words ease my pain and give me courage to begin 2012 with an expectant and hopeful heart, instead of a despairing one.

Does Jesus care when I've said goodbye
To the dearest on earth to me,
And my sad heart aches till it nearly breaks ¬
Is it aught to Him? Does He see?

O yes, He cares- I know He cares!
His heart is touched with my grief;
When the days are weary,
The long nights dreary,
I know my Savior cares.

Thank you Jesus, for weeping with me.

And thanks for listening. Caro

A Strange Kind of Christmas Post

This may be a kind of different Christmas post – but it is what is on my heart. I have debated for several days with myself, but feel God’s leading in this direction, so here goes.

Am I the only one who has struggled with incredibly low self esteem and feelings of utter unworthiness? I recently found a journal I had kept several years ago and was re-reading some of the entries from a time my life was at its lowest point, when everything seemed completely hopeless. Here is a sample from those dark days:

February 10, 2003 – “My heart is broken. You alone know my fears, my horror, my shame, my weakness, my stupid unworthiness. I am just a pitiful, ugly and stupid object, needing to be discarded. Useless and worthless. Valueless. No one could love me if they really knew me. Ugly. Stupid, Bad. Selfish. Not even strong enough to be weak. . . . I can’t go on, I have nothing left. I am nothing. I can never be trusted, loved or cherished again. Alone. I am so alone. . . . Why did you create me like you did? Why am I so ugly inside? I am powerless and I have no idea what I should do. So I wait, Oh Lord! I wait, but tell me – WHAT am I waiting for? I am so tired. There is never any rest for me, no sleep, no calm no peace.

From the depths, from this pit I exist in,

I beg you – heal me –
or end it for me.”

Dear ones, have any of you ever been there? My eyes flooded with tears as I read my own words from those awful days. I truly wanted to die, I felt so lost and alone. And then, when all seemed lost, hope burst in. Just a few days later, this is what I wrote: "I have confessed my sins to my family and to my God. I have been forgiven and relationships restored.”

Because God gave me a second (and third and fourth – and fiftieth) chance. Though I would go on to struggle more and face other difficult and heart rending times, I can see that God was at work, even back then in those bleak and desolate seeming days.

And this is the heart of today’s post. I want to share what I read just a few days ago, in Philp Yancy’s devotional book, “Grace Notes.” He asked “Does God really care?” Then he goes on, quoting from Psalm 77, where David is crying out (with words that could have come from my own journal) –

7 “Will the Lord reject forever?
   Will he never show his favor again?
8 Has his unfailing love vanished forever?
   Has his promise failed for all time?
9 Has God forgotten to be merciful?
   Has he in anger withheld his compassion?”

Mr. Yancy beautifully answers that question by saying this. “Jesus gives God a face, and that face is streaked with tears.” Matthew 23: 37 shows us how Jesus grieved for his children. I love the King James version – where he cries out,

"O Jerusalem, Jerusalem, thou that killest the prophets, and stonest them which are sent unto thee, how often would I have gathered thy children together,

even as a hen gathereth her chickens under her wings,
and ye would not!"

Jesus longs to show God’s compassionate face to us. Christmas time is supposed to be a time of rejoicing and celebrating. But I know that for many, the sorrow they feel is compounded at this time of the year. I challenge you to remember that Jesus gave up his glory, and was forever changed when he came as a tiny baby. He was born to show us the face of God. A face that is streaked with tears because of his great compassion for each of us.

At this season, I celebrate his birth, and I am so grateful for his death. But most of all, I am grateful that he heard my despairing words written in my darkest hours, when I felt so lost and hopeless, and so utterly bereft of any worth. I am grateful he heard me and gently and patiently led me through all the years, until I today I rest in his gentle embrace.

May each of you find his peace and rest today.  Have a blessed and restoring Christmas, my dear friends.

Thanks for listening. Caro

I Long To Complete the Song

I Long To Complete the Song

In all creation, there is song.

The waters roar and burble and tumble and they make a flowing harmony.

The birds sing, trill, chirp and tweet, and the melody, sweet and true goes on.

The leaves tremble in the breeze and great trees fall, providing the crash of percussion.

The earth’s cacophony sometimes resembles the discord of a

symphony as it warms up, the prelude to the beauty of the song to come.

             The ages pass, and from time to time the song becomes quiet, almost non-existent, seemingly hushed. Sometimes it plays softly, and only in hearts willing and able to hear.

But the song cannot be silenced; it continues. It must build and rebuild and rush toward           

                                                                                                           completion. 

            For Jesus is the Song, began before time was born. The Angels sang it as He created earth and life, and their voices filled the heavens at His birth.

           

The Song grew and became even more beautiful when He walked in the world. It thrived and flourished and there was

power in the Song.

Until a day, a terrible day came, when in one magnificent burst of evil, the Song was slain. Its beauty lay cold and silent and                   dead.

The Angel’s songs of joy turned to dissonant wails of mourning.  A cloak of darkness fell upon the earth and tried to bury the Song.

All music vanished. In its place, the screech of demons reigned in a VIle            

         parody of the Song.

For three dreadful days, the Song stayed silent and unheard drowned out by the shrieks and obscene rejoicing of the
evil
ones.

And then, almost imperceptibly, a few soft notes arose. The Song, the very

essence of earth’s melody, created by God Himself,  began to ascend.

The Song, with sweet and ethereal sounds, slowly, but triumphantly took up a new melody, and the power of that Song was stronger than ever imagined.

the Song demanded completion.

It pushed the demonic cries into oblivion. It grew and resonated with new

harmonies and new sounds.  

And now the Song races on, toward the crescendo that God has heard

from eternity’s reaches.

For at the very moment He thought me into being, He placed his Song inside me.

The Song weaves in and out of my life, as I learn it, sing it and make it

my

own life’s melody.

                     Then someday, some glorious day, as I stand in front of the Great Composer, my soul will cry out, trying to form the notes and words and harmonies that are too difficult for my lips to shape. Lest I lose myself in the despair of unworthiness, the Song Himself will take my hand and will sing it with me, and

IT WILL BE FINISHED.

How I long to complete the Song. . . . .



My Beautiful Pain

Psalm 51 is one of my favorite scriptures. In it, David, who is described as “a man after God’s own heart” in 1st Samuel 13:14, has just been chastised by the prophet Nathan for his sin with Bathsheba. David pours his heart out to God, lamenting his great transgressions. He confesses his sins and begs God to cleanse him with hyssop, so he will be whiter than snow. He implores God to create a clean heart within him and entreats him not to cast him away. He asks to be restored to the joy of salvation, and to be sustained.

I love David’s words, and in my own sinful and wandering ways, have often used them to beg for my own forgiveness. But what I find most wonderful about this passage is contained within verses 13-17. After David has confessed and must feel assured of his restoration, he then makes his own commitment. He states boldly that he (David) will now teach transgressors God’s ways, so that sinners will turn back to Him. He goes on to proclaim that he will praise God with his own lips and that he understands that God’s deepest desire of him is a “broken spirit, a broken and contrite heart” (vs. 17).

Here is what I find so very encouraging. No matter how I have sinned, no matter how badly I have messed up, God can still use me. In fact, he delights in using me, especially because of my brokenness.

These past few weeks I have had the opportunity to work closely with a man and woman who are struggling with alcoholism and codependence. He is in the grip of the disease of addiction and she is smothering under her own codependent ways. God has brought us together and because of my past, I have credibility with them. When I tell them that I truly understand their pain, and can indeed feel it, they believe me.

Sunday morning when I took communion, as I was thanking Jesus once more for his sacrifice for me, I was moved to tears as I thought of how these two precious people are struggling and hurting. I truly felt their pain as if it were my very own. And I know God heard my prayers for them, because he took care to comfort me as I prayed, with tears sliding down my cheeks. He assured me that they are deeply loved and that he desires nothing more than their healing; and he also promised me that the pain I have gone through in my own struggle with alcoholism and addiction is so very precious to him. He showed me how he is now able to use me in ways I could never have been available for without the affliction I’ve suffered from for years.

I have heard other alcoholics say they are grateful for their condition. When I first heard such words, I just knew they were lying. Later, I glimpsed some possible truth in it, but had not yet experienced it for myself. As I have grown and changed in these months following my new found sobriety, I started to understand and accept that is might be true.

But this Sunday morning, I experienced what I can only call a “beautiful pain,” as my heart broke for these two dear friends, and as I felt Jesus weeping with me and easing my sadness. For the very first time, I was truly grateful that he created me as he did, and let me suffer with such a terrible disease. For as hard as it has been, as much suffering as it has caused me and my family and friends, it is worth it as I see God using my sorrow to help teach others of His gentle ways,so they might turn back to Him, and also be comforted and healed.

Thank you Jesus, with my whole heart, for the beautiful pain you are allowing me to know and understand.

Thanks, as always, for listening. Caro

The Night Is Nearly Over

I was reading in my quiet time this morning. I “happen” to be in Romans. Today’s chapter was 13. Now I have read chapter 12 many, many times and can quote much of it verbatim. But if anyone had asked me what is in the 13^th chapter of Romans, I would have drawn a blank.

However, verse 12 took my breath away.  It says:

“The night is nearly over; the day is almost here.

So let us put aside the deeds of darkness

and put on the armor of light.”

As I have shared before, I am a pastor’s wife, married to my husband, Cliff, for almost 39 years. I am also a recovering alcoholic and prescription pill addict – and that combo (pastor’s wife & addict) has led to an interesting last 15 years or so. Combined with all the trauma and drama of Cliff’s recent brush with death, along with a lot of other, unrelated issues at our church and with our kids, I have been spinning a bit lately and sensed the darkness hovering ever nearer. So when I read this, I just felt this peace steal over my soul.

And God also took the opportunity this morning to remind me that he is the one who is actually in control of everything anyway – not me. This past Sunday, in an adult Sunday School class I am part of, I felt impressed to share just a few words about my recovery, and how God has been using it as a ministry tool lately. Most people in our church know of my past, but of course new people don’t and I don’t usually feel the need to say much. But this Sunday, there was a fairly new couple in the class, and afterwards, the wife approached me with tears in her eyes. She said she had gone to church for years and had been silently crying out for help but never felt she could share her heartache and pain with anyone. She lives with an active alcoholic as a spouse, and believed she had nowhere to turn; that there was no one who would understand. God granted me the opportunity to minister to her, and to invite them to our Celebrate Recovery group on Monday night. They both came, and for the first time, she sensed the tiniest glimmer of hope. I was more encouraged than she was, and have been praising him for this blessing in my own life.

The night can seem so long and so dark. Dawn can appear to be elusive and often comes cloaked in clouds. But I am here to testify that when God declares that the night is over, nothing can prevail against the precious daylight. On this Thanksgiving eve, I pray you all feel the sweet light of his dawning blessings.   

Thanks for listening. Caro

What If?

It was one month ago today Cliff suffered an almost fatal pulmonary embolism. Time passes, and it caught me by surprise when I looked at the calendar this morning. Life has been pretty uneventful for the past few weeks, and let me tell you, that is a really good thing!

Cliff has been recovering, at a slower pace than he would like, but that is to be expected. I have gone back to work and find the day to day “grind” a bit wearing. I have also discovered that I am not as young as I used to be! The ordeal we went through took a lot out of me. I didn’t sleep well for weeks and am just now starting to feel a little refreshed in the mornings when I rise. There are even some evenings that I come home and don't just collapse in a boneless heap in my chair.

Mostly though, these weeks have provided me with a lot of time to reflect. If I am not careful, my mind starts to dwell on a myriad of “what ifs.” “What if” the clot had caused significant heart damage? “What if” Cliff hadn’t survived the initial damage? ”What if,” when our children and I were gathered at his bedside whispering tearful goodbyes and assurances of our love to each other, those goodbyes had turned out to be permanent? “What if” I was alone now? But if I have learned one thing, it is how unproductive “what if” musings are.

In order to change my outlook, I am schooling my mind and my attitude to praise through those “what if” moments. When I feel the anxiety of such a thought, I purposely turn my mind toward my loving Heavenly Father. As those words “what if” start to form in my thoughts, before they take shape on my lips, I consciously choose to simply thank Him for being with me through all of it. How easy it would be to spend my energy fretting about what might have been, or even worse, what could still be. I have discovered that the enemy would like very much to march me down a destructive path. He would have me linger in those places in my mind that are unhealthy and negative.

So today, I join with the Psalmist in praising my creator for his constancy in my life. I don’t have to worry about the “what ifs,” or the “what yet might bes.” I need only to dwell in the protection and sanctuary of his arms.

Psalm 91
1 Whoever dwells in the shelter of the Most High
will rest in the shadow of the Almighty.
 2 I will say of the LORD, “He is my refuge and my fortress,
my God, in whom I trust.”

Thanks, as always, for listening. Caro

Surprised By Grace - Again

Several blogs ago, I wrote about how God had restored a friendship I thought was gone forever. At that time, he brought my dear, dear friend, Connie, back into my life. She surprised me at the hospital the day Cliff first had his surgery and it was wonderful how she so quickly fit right back into our whole family structure. She shared herself with me during that trying day, making me laugh, holding me while I cried and just being there for me, in spite of the hurt that had passed between us over the years. I am so thankful for the grace God showed me on that day.

But he was not through amazing me with his plan. I have another friend. A childhood friend named Laurie. I have known Laurie since I was a little girl. She and her then boyfriend, Mick, introduced me to my husband Cliff. Laurie and I did everything together as children and young women. We got married within five days of each other and had children together. The four of us were best of friends – since we all sort of grew up together we always had a connection. Even though we often lived on opposite sides of the country, and could be apart for years, when we reunited, it would be as if we’d never left.

Then Mick developed heart trouble. To make a long story short, he too had open heart surgery. Only Mick did not survive. He passed away days after the initial surgery. And friends, that is when things went from bad to appalling. You see, that was when I was in the midst of my alcoholism. The shock of his death was great, and I came to his memorial service drunk. After that, my shame prevented me from staying in contact with my oldest and dearest friend. I had promised to be there for her in her time of need; yet I never once called her in the years that followed. Eventually, I simply couldn’t face her.

As I have posted before, I went through chemical addiction treatment in January of this year. And this time, I’m doing things differently. That means I’ve been actually working the 12 Steps. And guess what? God, in his wisdom, managed it so I was on my 9^th step—the one where I begin making amends—in September. Laurie was one of the first few people on my amends list. I tracked her down shortly before Cliff’s surgery, and sent her a letter. A letter she received a day or two after his surgery. She called me immediately and came to see us in the hospital.

And guess what? God, in his desire for restoration and grace in our lives has beautifully brought us back together. When I told Cliff Laurie was on her way to see us; we both cried. Laurie and I spent a beautiful hour or two alone, talking, crying, and forgiving.  And now we are again part of each other’s lives.

My friends, life is too precious to waste in regrets. I have so many things I wish I had done better, so many things I’m ashamed of and that Satan would use to destroy me. But God does not want me to dwell there. He wants me to live today, in the moment. He wants me to look forward and to let him continue to soothe my soul and heal my life. Today, I am resting in his amazing, astonishing and beautiful grace. May you rest there as well.

Thanks for listening. Caro

Bits and Pieces

What a whirlwind this has been. Today I returned to work for the first time since Cliff’s surgery and have been running non-stop since my feet hit the floor this morning.  I have hardly had a moment to catch my breath.  Cliff has been recovering well, although he caught a bad cold while in the hospital the second time and his cough has kept us all up at night. Coughing when you have recently had open heart surgery is just not fun. But he is on the mend and I’m pretty sure my biggest problem now is going to be making him get enough rest.

Somewhere in the middle of all of this, I developed a severe infection in my jaw and had to drive back to Portland to have “emergency” root canals last Wednesday—three of them. It has not been a fun experience without pain meds. But because of my history, I try to stay away from those.  Last Wednesday, as I was sitting in the specialist’s chair waiting for the anesthetic to take effect, I began to feel just a little sorry for myself.

I have been pretty much living out of a chair in ICU, have been on an emotional roller coaster and sleep deprived for three weeks. I have been caring for my very sick husband, as well as providing comfort for our kids and grandkids, and just trying to keep up on all the day to day stuff at the same time.  I had to give up my dream of going back to school, temporarily – but it hurt to drop out of classes I was so excited over, and I kind of figured I had really just about had enough.

But before the self pity got too bad, I was suddenly overcome with the humor of it all. As I walked out of the doctor’s office, with the left side of my face so swollen it looked like I had the mumps, I got a glimpse of the two of us reflected in a window. (Cliff had ridden along to keep me company.) He was holding his bright red heart pillow to his chest to stifle a cough and I had my hand to the side of my swollen face.  I just had to burst out laughing at how absolutely pathetic we looked.  And in that moment, I knew everything was going to be okay.  

After all, God never promises that all aspects of our lives will make perfect sense all the time. But he does walk with us through the parts that that are confusing and scary and downright painful.  And sometimes, he even reminds us to laugh at ourselves. I am thankful we are both alive and able to enjoy these funny, if ridiculous, moments together. Today, life—all the bits and pieces of it—is good.

Thanks for listening, and God bless you all for your care and prayers. Caro

A Pocket Full of Splenda

 

Hi friends. I know it has been a long time since I posted, and a lot has happened since then. As I said earlier, my husband Cliff had open heart surgery on October 10^th. He came through it beautifully and was discharged on the following Sunday, October 16^th. All went well on Sunday evening and Monday. But early Tuesday morning, the 18^th, at around 5:30, he developed sudden severe breathing problems.  He was gasping and very pale; he simply could not breathe. I called 911 and they took him to our small local hospital in Astoria, Oregon. After a CT scan the diagnosis was two pulmonary embolisms that had traveled from his leg to his right lung.

They prepped him to be life-fighted back to Oregon Health and Science University in Portland. It was then the doctor pulled me aside and told me to call the family in; that Cliff was in critical condition and there was a better than even chance he would not live. His mother and our children stood with me around his bed and tried not to weep while we said what we prayed would be temporary goodbyes. As the helicopter lifted off, we headed to Portland as fast as my son-in-law could drive. Let me tell you, that drive was the longest two hours of my life.

Well, dear friends it has been a very emotional up and down week, but God blessed us once again and he survived the flight. Though he was critical for a few more days until they could get him stabilized, he is now “out of the woods,” and expected to make a good recovery. We are still at the hospital waiting until his blood thinner medication (Coumadin) reaches therapeutic levels, which could be several more days yet.  He is getting stronger everyday and is breathing on his own now. He will have to remain on the Coumadin for the rest of his life, but that seems a very small price to pay.

You may be wondering about the title of today’s blog. A day or two ago, our daughter, Aimee, was in the room with us just after we got some coffee. She, like me, enjoys her coffee sweetened and with cream and was asking if anyone had some sweetner. As we searched, but came up empty-handed, her beautiful smile suddenly lit up the room when as she reached into her pocket, and held up a handful of the little yellow Splenda packets. “Oh look,” she said, “I’ve got a pocket full of Splenda.”

When I heard her say those words, I loved the sound of them and my imagination went into overdrive, wondering how I could use them. As I was praying later, thanking God once again for his grace and mercy to us, those words popped back into my mind. I could just see God smiling at me with his gentle compassion. I seemed to hear him tell me that not only was he pleased with my joy, but that he had a lot of other wonderful surprises in store. I could picture him telling me, “You should see MY pocket full of Splendor!”

I fully understand that God chose to intervene in this situation in a mighty way and the result is Cliff’s life was spared and his health is slowly being restored. But I am equally aware that at times God’s will doesn’t match our desires and it can seem harsh and unloving when that happens. I would guess those of you who have gone through the pain of losing a spouse must wonder why some live and some don’t. I have no answers. But I do know the one who does and I know he is trustworthy and faithful. As I have walked this road of recovery and discovery this week, I have become more and more convinced of that. Had Cliff died, I know it would have been a struggle to continue trusting, but I am also persuaded God would have held me close to him throughout the process. I know in my heart of hearts that he will never leave me or forsake me. And I am looking forward to more surprises from his pockets full of glorious splendor.

Thanks for listening. Caro

A Room With A View

I seems it was only a few minutes ago I was trying not to stress out about my husband’s open heart surgery. God was good to me and helped me to release most of my anxiety to Him, and allowed us enjoy such sweet fellowship as we waited together-Cliff, Jesus and me.

The surgery took place on Monday, October 11^th and all went well. The doctors were kind enough to update me throughout the 5 hours surgery, which helped alleviate much of my worry. It is now 3 days past the procedure and Cliff was moved out of ICU yesterday.

We are now in a room on the 11^th floor of Portland’s Oregon Health and Science University hospital, overlooking beautiful downtown Portland, the Willamette River and Mt. Hood (when it peaks out from behind the clouds). We woke up this morning to a perfect sunrise. The cloud formation combined with the orange glow to make the shape of a cross and I could feel God pouring his blessings directly into my soul.

I know my love still has a long road of recovery ahead of him, but I am confident that the one who has brought us this far, will walk right beside us as we travel it together.

As for me, I am rejoicing that not only do I have my husband still alive, getting healthier and looking toward the future with me, but I have my sobriety too. Not so many months ago, I could not have done this without some sort of chemical “help.” How grateful I am that I have been able to face all these trials sober. How grateful I am that I can be a help to him, instead of adding to his stress and worry. And how grateful I am for the love and support of our family and friends, and for the countless people I will never meet this side of heaven who have lifted us in prayer.

I very much like this room with a view. And I praise God for the bright tomorrow I can see on the horizon.

Thanks for listening. Caro