Cell Phone Pharisee

More and more lately, my big secret is coming out.

"Why don't you have a cell phone?"

"How can you manage?"

My reasons for not carrying a mobile device are many and varied. Here are a few I've said lately:

•  because I don't want to be available to people all the time
•  because I know my addictive nature and it's just easier to not have the temptation
•  because I choose to spend money on other things

As these conversations keep coming, I am finding a different, deeper reason. One that I must confess. I LIKE not giving in to the current culture that demands I instantly return texts, calls, beeps. It allows me to pretend that I'm morally superior to you. I can roll my eyes when you check a text cause "it might be important." I can snigger at the lady in the awards ceremony rooting through her purse because it's decided to play a symphony all on its own. I can laugh about the friend who answers the phone IN THE SHOWER, knowing that I will never be like that.

You see, in my eyes, cell phones have become a great evil in society. And I stand pure, unadulterated by the insidious, omnipresent portal to all things. I read articles and stories that back up my skewed view. Cell phones cause cancer, addict preschoolers, change our thought patterns so we cannot focus on one thing, make walking zombies out of pedestrians, and so on. I knew all along that they were trouble and I will stand against the overwhelming masses -- a pure, focused, productive member of society.

Only I'm not. I have become a Pharisee. I use my choice to not use a perfectly normal tool to make myself seem holier, closer to God and others, just because I don't give in. And other people help me distance myself when they say, "You must really trust your husband if you're not going to check on him while you're away."  "You are so strong. It must be very hard."

I don't need a cell phone to tune you out while we're supposed to be talking. I want you to wait for my time to return that call/ message/ whatever cause I want to control the situation. Oh, and I want you to know that I'm too important of a person to drop whatever it is I'm doing (probably nothing) to respond to you. From the outside I look strong, independent, and holy, but it's all a façade.

And I'm sorry. I'm sorry for considering you dependent, or less of a person because you have a cell phone.  I'm sorry for thinking that you don't trust your husband with your kids because you call to connect. I'm sorry for the anger that bubbles up in me when we are having a conversation and you look at your phone instead of being constantly riveted by my eyes and words. I'm sorry for this barrier in the way I think of you, or look at you.

I would love for you to look at me and not see some backward thinking, suspicious holdout. And I will try to no longer judge you. I will treat you as a real friend, who makes different choices than me because we live different lives. Unless we're stuck on the side of the road, with no where to turn. Then I will be grateful for your cell phone.

2012 Advent Readings

I wrote these for our weekly advent readings at Blue Mountain Community Church. I wanted to share them with you.

 Prophesy – Week 1

Like a child waiting for Daddy to come home, or a pregnant woman ready to meet her child, a time of waiting is most marked by the arrival of what we have been waiting for. The time can be frustrating, agonizing or distracting. However, this time can also be exciting, filled with possibility and wonder, and a building sense of joy. How do you choose to wait?

Since the beginning of time, generations have waited for the coming of the promised one. The delight of God’s promise of freedom from sin, of a reunion with Him, were worth waiting for. But how long would He be? Thousands of years pass with no promised one, then God seems to be silent. Could He have forgotten his promise?  Sometimes, in the darkest of winter, hope is the only thing we have to know that spring is coming. And come he did, though not in the way that most people expected. Many people from all over the world were watching and waiting and yet when Jesus came, few took notice.

For thirty-three short years the wait was over and the Promised one came to earth and did what God promised he would do. He leaves us with another promise, “I will come again.” And so we return to waiting. Another couple thousand years of waiting. Perhaps there is something in the waiting: something that teaches us to hold on to hope and promise, that encourages us to always be preparing for the fulfillment of our longing, to keep us from thinking we have arrived and settle into complacency. Perhaps this waiting is core to the very nature of Christ- followers, of Messiah seekers.

So another winter has come and before you break into celebrating, pause and remember that the best celebration is yet to come. Embrace the wait and prepare your heart to see Christ as you’ve never seen Him before.

 

Peace – Week 2

There is nothing quite like the sound of snow falling. It makes no noise at all and yet, it has a palpable presence. When the snow begins to fall, it seems as though all the world stops. Plans change, people look up at the sky or settle in to something warm. If there’s enough snow, an unplanned holiday takes place. Schools and businesses close and a whole new world of possibilities open up. Suddenly our schedules cease their clamor and we can simply be.

It’s those moments when we are quiet, when we simply are, that God speaks. Or maybe it’s then that we can really hear him. As with the shepherds on the hillside, our encounters with God can forever change us: our perspectives, our desires, our priorities. One of his gifts in these encounters is the gift of peace. Not an absence of striving kind of peace, though that may be true, but this peace is a fullness of purpose, a sense that things are as they should be. A peace that settles in, just like a snowflake on a field.   

In our culture, quietness and peace are a rare commodity, a luxury few can afford, a short term reward for completion of a major undertaking. What if the truth is that peace is a necessary foundation, an integral part of what makes us human and a more fitting home base than busyness? What if peace was at the core of who you were this Christmas, instead of an exhausted afterthought? What would be different? What would stay the same?

Let’s approach this Christmas with the peace that God intends for us. Yes, there are presents to buy and wrap, cookies to bake and relationships to invest in. Those things can still happen, but the focus can change if you let God’s peace settle in and “be” Christmas instead of “doing” Christmas.

 

Joy – Week 3

Is there anything more beautiful than seeing the joy on a loved one’s face when we give them the perfect gift? Something that they have desired for a long time, yet could never have bought for themselves. Made more precious by the fact that this treasured item is now connected to a valued relationship.

Can you imagine the excitement God had in making his plans to send his Son? It is the perfect gift. Just what we needed and something we could never have even thought to ask, it cost so much. We could never have got it on our own. Made more precious because it gives us a relationship with God that we could never have without this gift.  Imagine His delight as you opened his gift and realized that it is just for you.

Better yet, as much as this gift is designed specifically for you, it is equally designed for the person next to you: your neighbor, your family, your friend. And God asks you to share it with them. You can keep it and give it at the same time. You can share God’s joy as you see others receive the gift.

And yet, how much of your life shows this joy, gratefulness for this perfect gift? Smack in the middle of the busy Christmas season, would those who looked at your life be able to see joy?

That’s what the angel was talking about when he said in Luke 2:10, “I bring you good news that will bring great joy to all people.” This joy is radiant, life changing, bursting delight that comes from God, through you, to others. This joy is uncontainable, unexplainable, unbidden. It is the joy that started with one Christmas night, in a manger in Bethlehem. Gifted first to a husband and wife, then a strange mix of kings and shepherds, eventually a loose group of followers and finally the whole world.

 

Week 4 – Love

The heart of Christmas is love. A.W. Tozer once said, “I can no more do justice to this awesome and wonder-filled topic than a child can grasp a star. Still, by reaching toward the star the child may call attention to it and even indicate the direction one must look to see it. And so, I stretch my heart toward the high, shining love of God so that we may be encouraged to look up and have hope.”

God’s love is amazing, unconditional, transforming, sacrificial, humbling, uplifting and more. How does one even begin to describe it? It is offered, even to those who reject it over and over. It is abiding, even when circumstances overwhelm and sadness lingers. It is always choosing the best for us, even if that best is hard or unfamiliar. It is unending, unquenchable, celebratory and solemn. And it reveals itself just when we need it most.

Human love is often self seeking, emotion driven, changeable as the wind. How comforting to know that God’s love is not like ours. But God’s love could be ours, if we learned from him how to really love our world.

Imagine how it could be if each of us took the people around us and loved them like God does. How could we influence our neighborhoods, our families, our schools, our friends if we saw each situation through God’s love and used that as our guide. How would your relationships be different? How would you spend your time?

And that may be the biggest miracle of Christmas: that God, through Jesus, showed us how to love our world and re- create it to be as he first imagined it. That his love through us would change hearts and minds and actions, propelling us to be kinder, more compassionate, more accurate reflections of Christ. And as we explore that love, we call others’ attention to it, as a child grasps for a star.

 

 

Christ Candle – Christmas Eve

He came. In fulfillment of the promise and in honor of the waiting generations he came. In response to the obedience of teenagers he came. To the lowliest of places he came. During political occupation he came. Heralded by angels and shepherds, not kings or emperors, he came. From perfection and beauty and light and love to brokenness and horror and darkness and hate, he still came.

And it changed everything.

Because he came, we can know God. Because he came, we have peace. Because he came, we are free. Because he came, we have purpose.

Jesus’ coming shows us how humanity was meant to be, how we could be if we trusted and believed God. He shows us how God wants to interact with the world: intimately, individually, personally. Jesus’ coming not only tells us of a better day coming, but also includes the possibility that today could be a better day.

Christ is our model, our teacher and our hope. He is God as well as being the fulfillment of humanity. He is the first one among us, yet he valued the least ones. He is the cornerstone of our faith, the rock on which we stand.

Because of Christ, we have Christmas.

Remembering Grandma

I Will Rise
by Chris Tomlin

There's a peace I've come to know

Though my heart and flesh may fail

There's an anchor for my soul

I can say "It is well"

 

Jesus has overcome
And the grave is overwhelmed
The victory is won
He is risen from the dead

And I will rise when He calls my name

No more sorrow, no more pain
I will rise on eagles' wings
Before my God fall on my knees
And rise
I will rise

There's a day that's drawing near

When this darkness breaks to light
And the shadows disappear
And my faith shall be my eyes

Jesus has overcome

And the grave is overwhelmed
The victory is won
He is risen from the dead

And I will rise when He calls my name

No more sorrow, no more pain
I will rise on eagles' wings
Before my God fall on my knees
And rise
I will rise

And I hear the voice of many angels sing,

"Worthy is the Lamb"
And I hear the cry of every longing heart,
"Worthy is the Lamb"
And I hear the voice of many angels sing,
"Worthy is the Lamb"
And I hear the cry of every longing heart,
"Worthy is the Lamb"

 

This song came to me as I was walking the other day and it reminded me of my Great Grandma Myrtle whjo went to be with Jesus last week. It reminded me of the truths of scripture that for my grandma, the day has come, pain is gone and she has risen to be with Jesus. Even though my heart and eyes will miss her, I can say, “It is well.” Great Grandma Myrtle lived her life well and fully. She completed her mission here and left quite an amazing legacy.

 I remember two special things about Grandma Myrtle that I wanted to share with you. As a young teen, I spend much of one summer in Happy Camp with the grandparents. One week Grandma Myrtle and I taught VBS together; A 12 year old and a woman in her mid seventies teaching 9 and 10 year olds. This taught me that God can use anyone at any age to share his love. For the first time, I felt like a leader and a teacher and that is a major part of who I am today. Grandma was not disappointed by my lack of experience or my youth. She saw it and me as a great asset, a valuable partner and modeled for me leadership, compassion and dedication.

The second memory that sticks with me even now is of the day my husband and I got engaged. It just so happened that Grandma Myrtle was staying with us and was one of the first people to know. She was so excited for us and blessed us with her words and her support. And that’s just the kind of person she was; incredibly supportive, always encouraging, seeing and rejoicing in the best life had to offer.  I only hope that I can do as well.

Beauty for Ashes

Isaiah 61:3 New Living Translation (NLT)

³ To all who mourn in Israel,
    he will give a crown of beauty for ashes,
a joyous blessing instead of mourning,
festive praise instead of despair.
In their righteousness, they will be like great oaks
that the Lord has planted for his own glory.

I always read this verse and thought, “What a beautiful figure of speech. God takes the broken, destroyed things in my life and can make them beautiful.” What I didn’t know is that God does it physically too. Last week, a huge ash cloud settled over our valley, ash drifted through the air, in what moviemakers show to be the end of the world. It swirled around and collected on cars, railings, sidewalks. My family felt it with every breath – headaches and weariness consumed us. Our world was grey and dim and felt so heavy. My eyes burned from just being open and I was quite prone to tears – not that that’s a big stretch normally, but I could feel the difference. In the midst of this gross depressing atmosphere, my child said it best,” Wow, the sun is so amazing. I can look directly at it and it’s so beautiful!” And it was. A glorious orange ball in the day.  Awe inspiring pinks and purples as it set. I could see the outline of the sun and, for a few seconds, look it straight in the face. What a wonderful illustration of God.

When we are in the midst of ash, our world grey and we can hardly breathe, God is there – visible in a way that is unique and beautiful. Does it make the ash go away? No, but this magnificence is only possible because of the combination of ash and God, of destruction and light. This is true in my life. I never see God so clearly as when I am coming through trouble. And I think God knows this, cause he made me this way. He lets the wreck happen until we come to him. Then he says, “Now watch and see what I will do.” So we watch, look God in the face and see him as we’ve never seen him before. It gives us hope and joy and an overwhelming appreciation and love. We see the beauty that comes from the ash.

And that’s, I think, part of the answer to why God allows suffering in the world – in innocent lives and unexpected places – so that he can show us how he can redeem even the most horrifying of events, how ash becomes beautiful.

This story happened almost nine years ago.  I was just finishing up my final year in college.  Nick and I had been married only a few short months, but we had plans.  I was to take a year off of school, then go back to get my masters and begin a teaching career.  It was a beautiful plan for my life. 

Only one problem: I might be pregnant.  It was possible, but not likely.  I remember worrying about the possibility one Sunday morning, when I heard God speak to me.  Only a few times in my life have I actually audibly heard the voice of God.  This was one of those times.  What He said was, “It will be okay.  I will take care of you.” So naturally I believed this meant that I was not pregnant.  It threw off my whole life plan to be pregnant now.  Surely God knew that.

Do you ever take the words God says and twist them to mean what you want them to?  I was pregnant, I discovered to my shock a few weeks later.  Now you have to know that we had no way to provide for this child.  Nick has just left a terrible job situation and was looking for employment.  I had just graduated and was working at a retail store as a temporary thing.  We had planned to move back closer to our families after a year.  How could we continue to live this way when we were going to be responsible for another human life?

But I remembered the words of God “It will be okay.  I will take care of you.”  Piece by piece, things started falling into place.  Nick got a job, our church family supported us as well, if not better than our biological family.  Although it was a new plan, I recognized that it was God’s plan and relinquished my own timetable. 

At 8 months, my child stopped growing and the doctor became concerned.  Something was wrong and we went through several tests to find the problem.  For some reason, her intestines hadn’t fully developed and the chance that she would need surgery right after birth was high.  I was terrified.  God had told me that everything would be okay.  I changed my stubborn heart and rejoiced in this child, this gift from God that just might be taken away.  What was God playing at?

36 hours after our Kaeldra was born, she began to throw up everything she had eaten.  Our worst fears were confirmed.  We would have to fly her to Spokane for surgery.  I was, as you can imagine, a complete mess:  seeing my daughter in the incubator bed, knowing that her life was in jeopardy and that there was nothing I could do about it.  My family came to support us during this time and the church rallied and prayed.  But nothing changes that moment when you’re all alone with this helpless child, facing the thought of losing her just after you’ve met her.  You ask God why, not an angry why or a justified why or even a self righteous why.  This is the honest confused cry of a human to her maker because she cannot see around the corner.  But God had promised me that it would be okay.  This was not in my definition of okay, but it was in God’s.

Since many of you know Kaeldra, you know that this story has a happy ending, though not all stories do.  She is well and healthy and a blessing to my life.  Because of her, we stayed here in Walla Walla and I have found a calling and a passion that was never part of my original plans.  Two years after her birth, I was diagnosed with rheumatoid arthritis – another story for another time.  But I know that God gave me my child at the healthiest time in my life when I could have a baby without severe pain.  That was a gift that I didn’t know I needed.  My greatest crisis produced a new grateful time in my life and I know that I am no longer the person I was.

I don’t know where you are in life, but I guarantee that there will be a time when your back is against the wall; when you find yourself in dangerous circumstances not necessarily of your own making.  At that time I want you to know that God’s promises never fail.   He may speak a word to you, or you may read it in the fabulous promises of the Bible.  But either way, that promise is just for you and is the strength you will need to stand through the storm.  God knows what He is doing, even and especially when it looks like all hope is lost.  Trust who God is and His care for you and He will carry you through.  I don’t know the answer to the question why, but I do know that God will be there with me, and use who he’s made me to be for his good and his glory.  Somehow that makes the why not so important. 

That’s how you can bloom where you’re planted.  You see, for a seed, the planting process is traumatic.  You are buried underground, unable to see the light of day.  Then you get drowned, drowned so much that you begin to break apart.  You are dying.  You die completely and form your death new life sprouts forth.  This new life grows and grows and looks completely different than the seed, though they both share the same DNA.  But a seed is just a seed, full of unrealized potential.  A living plant is realizing its true potential and producing fruit – fruit that nourishes others.  It also produces more seeds. 

This is a concept Jesus taught with his life.  He died to bring us a new kind of life, so we can grow into the kind of people God had in mind in the Garden of Eden. People who die to their seeds, and sprout up with his life, bearing fruit and new seeds, until soon you have a whole garden of blooming, living, nourishing people.

" Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles. And let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us, fixing our eyes on Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of faith. For the joy set before him he endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God." Hebrews 12:1-2


I am not a runner. But I love the imagery of a runner that God uses in this passage. Running is an individual sport, and at the same time, a community sport. Have you ever been there for the start of a marathon? There is a sense of energy and excitement as the runners prepare.

I think that’s why this passage starts where it does, “since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses.” This is the energy at the beginning of a race. I am stretching out, warming up and here beside me is Abraham, he ran the race just like me. If you look back at Hebrews 11, you will read what is nicknamed the “Hall of Faith,” remembrances of people who took God’s call and ran with it. Many of them are named, but not all. But the heroes of our faith aren’t the only ones I’m running with.

I am also running with you. Maybe you started the race at a different time than me, but the race is the same – “let us run together.” I can’t begin to tell you all the advantages of running together, but here are a few: we can encourage each other to go father, to keep going, not to give up. We can pick up an injured comrade, we can sing and share stories and laughter. We can follow the path better when we see the people in front of us.

Once when I was six, my family went off Volksmarching. I will never forget the day I decided that my parents were going too slowly. I had places to be and energy to burn, so I powered on ahead. I followed the signs to the best of my ability, but I missed one. There was no one around to tell me which way to go, so I gave it my best guess. After wandering for a few minutes, I saw another sign. I must have gone the right way! An hour later, I was still on the trail. What I didn’t know is that I was almost to the finish line when I lost my place, only to find part of the trail very near the beginning. I was going in a 4K circle. But there were no guides, no people to ask. I had run the race twice that day because I needed to do it myself.

Next we come to what we are supposed to do – “throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles.” This is a necessary first step to running a good race. Practiced runners don’t bring any unnecessary things with them. They don’t pack a boom box and snacks for lunch. They don’t bring extra clothes, or their laptop, so they can stay connected during the race. They understand that extra stuff is going to hold them back. They also know that they have to focus – a distracted mind leads to a distracted body. So how do we break away from that sin that reaches out to get us?

“Let us fix our eyes on Jesus.” I can’t say from experience (because I’ve never actually tried) but I have heard that a hurdler who focuses on the hurdles will never get over them. You have to place your gaze beyond the hurdle if you ever want to soar over. Now we see our end goal – the finish line is Jesus and when we run straight for him, we can cross the hurdles, we can disentangle from the sin, we can be free of the hindrances that bind us down.

Now hear how Jesus is described, “the author and perfector of our faith, who for the joy set before him, endured the cross, scorning its shame and is seated at the right hand of the throne of God.” Jesus is not only the one who dreamed up the race, he ran it and is helping us run it too. He will keep working with us, like a dedicated coach, until we reach our goal. In Jesus’ race he mounted the biggest hurdle, the cross, because of the joy he was focused on. Do you know what that joy is? That’s his relationship with you. Because he saw the joy that would come from our relationship, he endured the pain of the cross, accepted the shame of humanity. For the joy of you. Now if that doesn’t inspire you to run, I don’t know what will.

Maybe this. Jesus is now seated at the right hand of the throne of God. That’s where the race ends and the joy continues forever. I don’t know where you are in your race: Are you distracted? Hindered? Knocked down by an unexpected hurdle? Let us together refocus on Jesus and run the race with perseverance, just as we are called to do. Endure what we must, shed what is unnecessary for the joy of relationship with God.

The one thing our joys, frustrations and disappointments have in common is that we were never meant to go through them alone. Do you have “together people”? Those friends who will run alongside you no matter the weather. If the answer is yes – keep running with them. If the answer is no – maybe it’s time to find some. To pick each other up, to spur each other on, to keep us from running in circles.

The Beauty of Pain

Here it is again, the writing awen. When sentences come unbidden to my brain and nothing save writing them down will drive them away. Oddly, only half those sentences make it to the page, but the relief remains. Mind you, this story is not complete, but it is enough to begin to tell, so tell it I must.

I am broken and restored, in ways I don't understand. And I am grateful. Even as I write this it boggles my mind, how can I be grateful for being broken? But there is no mistaking the joy and freedom and thanks in my heart for my brokenness. Let me go back.

I had the perfect life. Glory days of high school, storybook courtship and marriage to a wonderful husband, the gift of a beautiful child, it was much like happily ever after. Of course, I would not have said it at the time. Maybe the recollection is brighter than it should be, but it is there nonetheless. Then one day, my body failed me.

At first I believed I had overextended myself. It would not have been the first time. Rest, I needed rest, so that's what I did. For a week. No improvement. As a matter of fact, it only made the pain worse. So I tried acting normal, still no improvement. The pain and the fatigue from constant pain drained me everyday, until I had nothing to give. No energy to be a mother to my 18 month old. No energy to be a wife to my husband. No energy to be other than a lump that moved from bed to couch and back again. I was an invalid. And I feared it would last forever.

And it seemed like it would. Slowly, reluctantly, I entered the medical world. This world does not run on normal time like the world around it. This world has no sense of time, only pain and waiting. I learned during this time that no matter how technologically advanced we are, how many things we've discovered, so much of modern medicine is poking in the dark, guessing at what might be going on. So many times I was told, “You're too young for this to be happening.” Not really a helpful statement. Or “We don't know what it is, but we could try this.” Also not too encouraging. I felt like a medical experiment as I went through tests and treatments for a year and a half, finding either no effect, excruciating pain that brought no benefit, or a momentary relief, only to return to the now normal pain all too soon.

In my best moments, I prayed for healing. I knew all the stories where Jesus healed people because they asked. So I asked. Day after day. No response. In my worst moments, I imagined a life of this pain. Riding in a wheelchair. The family I was meant to care for now caring for me. Slowly withering away, as my body chewed itself to death. Not a pretty picture. It was during this darkness that I learned to cling to God's promises when I couldn't see clearly. To cling to hope when all is hopeless. It was also at this time that I learned to accept help from others. Being physically incapable of helping another, I found great blessing in accepting the help that I knew I needed.

At long last, the medical community figured out what was going wrong in my body, kind of. To this day, they have no name for it, only it acts like and responds to treatment for rheumatoid arthritis. So I began treatment, and started to find relief. “You will deal with this the rest of your life.” They said to me. I don't know what it is about doctors, but sometimes they say the most unhelpful things. Now the pain was held at bay, but by powerful medicine that came through injections. Did I mention that I'm needle phobic? Week after week, I steeled myself for a moment of terrible pain to avoid the seven days of nagging pain. It didn't always seem like a worthwhile trade off. Because of my fear, I depended on friends to give me my medicine. Without them, I don't think I would have done it.

This state of affairs continued for years. Over time and with technological advances, I learned to give the shots myself, but I always, always put it off as long as possible. By this time, I had given up on praying for healing. Obviously if God hadn't answered my request by now, He wasn't going to. So I agreed to accept it, and learn from it. In this time I learned compassion for others' pain, having never experienced this level before. I learned strength, fortitude and forbearance in ways only chronic pain teaches. I learned about true friendship, that rides the waves with you. These were all gifts that would not have come had I not been through this unwanted degeneration. As I saw and began to appreciate these gifts, I embraced this disease, seeing that I had gained wisdom, understanding and a new heart. I would not reverse time, if I had the choice, and undo this trauma.

I met a woman who shares my particular malady. She did not have the advantage of our modern treatments and her gnarled hands are the result of a lifetime struggle. But that is not what I noticed about her. I was struck by her joy and enthusiasm for life, her energy and effervescence. If she could go through life with my pain and have so much joy, why couldn't I?

I think God is a very funny guy. See the platypus for example one. Once I learned to embrace my lifelong struggle, the disease loosened it's hold on me. Remember, I put off shots as long as possible. Soon I was going for a month between treatments, instead of a week. Over two years, I continued to wean from the dependency on medicine, and now I have stopped taking it altogether. I have not felt this healthy in seven years. The medical, scientific part of me knows that this relief will not last forever, but instead of worrying about how or when it will come back, I choose to be thankful for the reprieve and believe that, for the time being, God answered my long abandoned request.

My doctor says that I'm a very lucky lady. He doesn't know that I am blessed beyond imagining. He doesn't know that my all powerful God loves me, knows what I can handle, and pushes me to the brink and even a little bit further to show me just how far I can trust Him. This disease doesn't travel backwards, but my God is bigger than my disease and He can do what he wants with it, increasing or decreasing pain as He sees fit to show me the world I need to see. That sounds like an amazing adventure that I wouldn't miss out on, for all the pain it may cost.