Framing the Years

There have been lots of changes in my world since I last
wrote. I can’t believe it’s been almost four years since I posted here – or anywhere
for that matter. I found myself a little bit blocked, ok maybe actually
paralyzed. There are reasons, and I am honestly in “recovery” mode. Pain can
come from the most unexpected places, you know? And pain is pain is pain.

A little over two years ago, I found myself sick. Really
sick, and no one could figure out what was wrong. I got diagnosed with lots of
different things like MS, all of them scary but none of them right. Finally I
got to the doctor that not only diagnosed me immediately, but possibly saved my
life. The condition is called neurosarcoidosis, which is super rare and progressive.
We never expected it of course – one never does expect these kinds of things –
and so many adjustments have been necessary.

I’ve had to get used to a round of doctor visits and tests galore every six months. (I’m up to 13
doctors, last time I counted.) I’ve had to get used to listening closely to and
respecting my body. No longer can I “push through” tired, like I’ve always been
able to do easily. Instead, I am chronically exhausted, and that has been my
biggest challenge. To set the bar on the ground, not just lower it but DROP IT,
so many times. To hold every plan I make so loosely and to not be too disappointed
when they don’t work out. To not be so darn hard on myself every time I need to
rest.

BUT as of right now, I am relatively stable. I am so incredibly
thankful for that and if I have learned anything, it is to watch for the bright
side (there always is one) and to live each day, each hour even, not just to the
fullest but with abandon.

I’m also learning that if I don’t set my priorities
carefully, if I don’t keep my plans in line with my energy, I will end my day
having dealt with the urgent things, but perhaps not the important ones. It’s usually
more important to drop whatever I’m in the middle of doing to take a kiddo to
work … because then I get 15 minutes in the car with them and that is precious
time when they’re teenagers and hard to catch long enough for a hug let alone a
meaningful conversation.

So today I sit before this keyboard, tired but hopeful. I
participated in the Kingdom Writers Conference recently, at the encouragement
of a friend, and I came away energized, so ready to put my hands on the keyboard
again. I have millions of ideas and not a lot of clear direction yet, but I am
prepared to go wherever God leads me.

One of my biggest takeaways from the conference was that I
am simply a Priestly Pen – we who belong to Jesus are also priests – see 1
Peter 2:4-5 – and that this pen is a fountain pen. It is not disposable and it
never runs dry, even if it sits on the shelf for a while. And my most heartfelt
prayer is that the words will pour forth from that pen, the words the Lord
gives me, and that they would minister somehow, some way, to someone somewhere.

I got a visual recently of a sky filled with dark clouds, heavy
and full of rain, about to burst – and it is not raindrops that fall, but WORDS.
My head and heart are full of the things God has shown me. He’s taught me much,
and he’s shown himself to me even more.

I’ve realized that many things remain Mystery. I capitalize
that intentionally, because they are the things of heaven that either are not
meant to be unwrapped until we get there, or perhaps more often, the things
that I simply cannot understand even though all the clues are there. This is
how he keeps showing himself to me – unfolding one Mystery after the next,
coaxing me to put aside the ones that are not meant for now. One at a time.
Here’s a good one (Isaiah 40:28-31):

Have
you never heard? Have you never understood?

No
one can measure the depths of his understanding.

He
gives power to the weak and strength to the powerless.

Even
youths will become weak and tired, and young men will fall in exhaustion

But
those who trust in the LORD will find new strength. They will
soar high on wings like eagles. They will run and not grow weary. They will
walk and not faint.

I’ve been operating out of that
last promise – yes, those are all three promises – the walk and not faint part.
Sure, I still soar sometimes. Literal running, not so much, especially these past
few years, but I hope I am running well toward the finish line of this life. For
now, I am grateful that on the weary days I can count on the One who NEVER grows
weak or weary to keep me upright and moving forward, even if that means he
tells me to rest for a bit so I can walk the next length of my day.

And so I repeat … I sit here
today hopeful. Hopeful that I HEAR. That I UNDERSTAND. And that as I lean into
him, his words will fall down like rain.