I'd like to say that once I had that mountaintop experience, feeling God's message and the power He instilled within me so clearly, that it carried me through til delivery (and beyond). Unfortunately, though, I'm only human. I've always felt like I play this game with God of understanding and awareness, then taking my own will back. Even though my will is often fraught with doubt, fear, insecurity, disillusionment, and confusion, I still want to go back there and dabble with it. Think that I must know better.
So here I was, coming off this big high from the retreat, but within days I was back into indecision and fear. I knew that I had a choice. That Jim would understand termination. In fact, after my aha moments of the weekend, I'd had to talk *him* into keeping the baby. In many ways, I still feel as though he was just playing "devils' advocate" so that I didn't feel any pressure from him to go through with it, but in that first week after the retreat, I was definitely the one that said, "This is God's will made from our love. We can't kill it."
And then I'd have a bad week. I'd decided that I needed to quit smoking. In the past, I'd easily quit when I'd first found out I was pregnant with Ian and Mariah (taking it back up eventually with both) but this time felt forced. The pregnancy was still often a fearful thought for me; to then be urged into giving up my "last crutch", it wasn't an easy undertaking. However, I knew it was the best thing I could do to ensure that the pregnancy was healthy. I can still remember that (hopeful) last cigarette.
It was the Monday after my Sunday high. Kids and husband gone, I'd decided I'd have my last cig in blissful solitude, sitting in the hottub with a cup of coffee on a gloriously sunny (but chilly) January morn. Raced my naked butt out our masterbathroom door, the rich scent of coffee wafting behind me, cig in hand and jumped quickly into the steaming water. Only to find that the water, steaming against a chilly air, was less than 90 degrees. That's not too hot in January against your 98.6 degree body. My temperature of choice in the winter is a steamy 102.
Shock. Damn it! The electric was out on the hot tub. Within moments my body was shivering. Yet I was so determined for my image of solitude, that I wouldn't give it up. I sunk deeper into the water, just my chin and smoking fingers of my right hand peeking above the surface. Fingers beginning to numb, my lips shaking, I sucked away my (intended) last ciggie in "glorious solitude".
Goes to show ya how determined I am for my own way. Funny, that.
Later that day, in the car on the way to an AA meeting later and once again after, I'd had cravings, but not so bad that I'd had to light up. I could easily pass it off as habit. That's where I usually smoked. It's just normal associations. Car = smoke.
However, later I travelled to the grocery store to prepare for a late birthday meal for Jim. We'd not celebrated that weekend because of the retreat, so I had the intention to create a special evening for him. Complete with his favorite dinner and well-thought out gifts (that I'd not thought out prior to that afternoon). I wanted him to know how greatly I appreciated his support and love. While waiting in the check-out lane, I was met with a beligerant, screaming (tired) toddler. Just as adorable as she could be, but mad as hell. Watching in trepidation, I thought, Oh God.....I can't do that again! Furthermore, and more importantly, a very strong thought: I didn't WANT to. I felt compassion for the mom, trying to converse my understanding of her tiredness, embarrassment and frustration through my gaze, but moreso, I had a very intense sense of "Better you than me!"
The more my skin crawled in the screaming and the thought of being in that very same position within a year, I REALLY needed a cigarette. At the same time, I beat myself up, knowing that I really should quit, should use the motivation of pregnancy to help me quit, needed to give up spending all that money on another addictive drug, hated to be feel guilty with any part of my life anymore, needing to hide the smoking from my kids. Knew that it would affect my pregnancy. Then thought, if God really wanted me to have this child, that He'd also keep it from harm while I obstinately held onto that last addiction. And felt guilty for that, too.
But I couldn't handle it....I gave in, grabbing a pack from the shelf in line, and bursting into it with a great fury on the way home in the car. Giving myself forgiveness because I was able to acknowledge the amount of stress I was under (which was a new skill), I puffed away til I got home, running through my mind what kind of help I'd need to quit this time. Acupuncture? Hypnosis? Some ear thing I'd heard about from my internist? I wasn't sure, but was able to acknowledge needing acute help since I wasn't internally motivated to quit.
The rest of that day was spent in a rat race trying to complete my picture of "special" for Jim - which I never could entirely fulfill. I was feeling far from God, far from my 12-step program, and generally far from serenity as I ran the guinea pig's wheel round and round, feeling my efforts weren't good enough and that I didn't have much time left. Add to that frenzied emotional turmoil a son who was anxious to have over a handful of friends. My adamant "No" was a shock to him and myself. I could feel the stress of the day building. Whether hormonal or after shock of reeling so high, I could do nothing more than sink to my knees in tears. What a weak tit! Then sneak outside around the side of the house to have yet another smoke. Once again, needing to forgive myself - after two full cigarettes of beating myself up. I realized I needed to give myself a BREAK! I run around nutty, trying to push myself so hard to be "perfect", undermining what I might be feeling, so that I can do more for others. I couldn't see that it was a tremendous task to put together what I'd had in mind in ONE day. I didn't give myself the allowance of going through one helluva week - full of a myraid of emotions; the contradiction of shock, panic and pure joy to name a few.
What the hell had I been learning up til now?!
I was a basketcase.....and we wanted to have a BABY?!
Thinking of that, I was still so very scared. I knew in my heart that God would carry me through, that things would be different, but heck...I knew that wouldn't erase all the hard stuff. Those tantrums. The long nights. The tiredness. The need to work counterintuitively on a daily basis. Like salmon swimming upstream. I just wasn't sure all the time that we should do this.
I marched forward, though, and later that week went to my OB/GYN to confirm the pregnancy. Though she had identified the gestational age a bit younger than I'd anticipated, everything looked fine. We even saw a small beating heart under sonogram. Twinges of love, guilt, sadness, and excitement intermixed within me then, as I watched that small blip beating on the screen. I looked down at my still flat belly covered in jelly, thinking I'd never be this thin again. (sigh) I could kiss that meth weight goodbye forever.
In private, one of my husband's friends, an ostetrician, told me that I could take a pill that would abort the pregnancy up to 7 weeks gestation. I was shocked - I thought it was just a few days past a missed menstrual cycle. Going online later to research it, I understood that there'd be heavy bleeding and cramping, but that it could happen within the quiet of our home with Jim at my side. However, the more I read of this RU-486 pill, for the first time since becoming pregnant, I became horribly nauseaus, even to the point of feeling as though I might faint. I hurriedly switched off the screen in angst, dropping to the floor with my head between my knees. I felt sure that I was so attune to the Holy Spirit right now, that it was a strong message to me to quit looking into killing this fetus. I had power beyond my wildest imagination if I only leaned on Him; I had only to remember my weekend, standing in the pulpit to affirm that.
But in the same breath, knowing in my gut that this was VERY MUCH in His plan for whatever reason, I'd begin to feel more fearful for the next hurdle. What IF the baby is "damaged" in some way? What if I, given my age and who knows WHAT I'd done in a year and a half of meth, delivered a special needs baby? For some reason, I could imagine that scenario well because I used to work in the field. Of course God would think I could handle that. Yet I felt that would be the last straw - I just couldn't handle the time and energy a special needs child would require. I'd have to terminate -- yet, how would that decision at that time be any less of a thwarting of His will? How can I live THAT decision down any easier than the selfish reasoning of not wanting a baby altogether?
I just wanted all my bases covered. I wanted to fully research all my options.
I visited Planned Parenthood next. In a way, it felt like wasted time because I'd almost fully come to the conclusion that we were going through with this pregnancy. 99% of the time, I felt I was being led by the Holy Spirit. To just trust. But I still needed to talk openly to someone about options. She told me, "God doesn't make mistakes! You may feel unable to handle it - but when does He ever hand us large tasks that we feel ready for??" Yet she did, without preamble, objectively lay out the options. And recommended against RU-486. Although yes, you could do it within the quiet of your home, she said it could take anywhere from a half hour to 8 hours. With no pain medicine. You are on your own. And it's not pretty.
She told me about amniocentesis and CVS. CVS could be done as easly as 10 weeks old, with results by 12 weeks. (I made an appointment that afternoon.) She also gave me recommendations of facilities that perform abortions if I chose that option.
I walked out feeling assured I was doing the right thing, and well versed on what to expect and where to go if I should need to make a different decision further along.
My parents, when I told them, were incredulous. Thought we were crazy to think about having a child right now. Though my parents had no knowledge of the full reason for my recovery, they knew that Jim and I were on an uphill climb at that point and shouldn't be thinking of adding insult to injury. I could tell that she wanted to be able to keep quiet about her opinion, but her anxiety for me, for the two of us, radiated through the telephone lines. All of my reassurances that it would force us into making radical changes fast didn't seem to alleviate those concerns. I still got a strong sense of doom from her.
So, moving forward, I was up and down the rollercoaster. Excited on many levels and scared for all of us on others. It was a true test for me of "Letting Go and Letting God".
******************
Update: Shortly after this, I did go to my internists recommendation to quit smoking. It's a place in St. Louis called, Leslie-Cam Smoking Cessation clinic, that used Auricular Therapy -- or an ear zap -- to cure the desire to smoke. www.lc-stopsmoking.com/lesliecam.html I highly recommend it. Zapped me once and cured me forever. I don't think it was more than 75 bucks. I never looked back - not one craving. I've been smoke free now for 4 years, and I can't tell you how proud I am of that accomplishment! To be free - forevermore - of that smelly, expensive habit that only serves to take months off your life and add wrinkles to your face -- hurray! Run, don't walk to an auricular therapy clinic near you if you are still under the deathgrip of nicotine.
Thursday, February 4, 2010
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
In the Pulpit
Following His lead, ignoring my fear and thoughts of "You don't really have to do this", I plunged forward. Sat beside Dana in the pews until my name was called.
You could have heard my heart beating throughout the sanctuary on that long walk to the pulpit. I'd brought my journal with me, marked with highlights over the important stuff throughout, hoping that I wouldn't go tongue tied and forget what I wanted to say. I know that I referred to it - had to refer to it - but delightedly, the words flowed from me. I made eye contact with the congregation, smiling and almost feeling at ease once I'd begun. You'd have thought I'd been doing this my whole life - well, at least stood in the pulpit for more than just dress rehearsal for choir.
I admitted my insecurity of speaking with them, sticking out my foot from the podium to share my wild socks that gave me the strength that Edna assured me. I'd told them what I shared with all of you about being Edna's liason. And my doubt with Dana. My first impressions of this eccentric little woman. And the mass WOW of our grouping once she began speaking.
I continued:
"Just days before coming to the retreat, I had been given a calling - a major one that I could NEVER imagine myself fulfilling at this time in my life - still can't wrap my hands around it. And her topic on "Timing is Everything" impacted me to the core. The suggestion, she said, that God's timing is impeccable and if we waited for everything to be perfect, nothing would get done. (Eccl 11:4) I'd wanted to say, no...really, I think His timing really STINKS, big time!
(Laughter)
But isn't it amazing - miraculous even, if you allow yourself to believe in those things - that maybe He knows what you need even better than you? That possibly He was waiting for THIS specific time in my life in order to offer it to me? Though I feel ill-equipped for the job, possibly NOW is the time of my life when I'm best able to tackle it because of all my experiences - even the *mistakes* - of my past.
I'd never have gotten here without the spiritual growth that I've gained through my small group. I went into that experience somewhat begrudgingly - and they've grown to be the people I look to for support most in my life right now.
Cuz you know..... I've never been like all of "you". Those who seem to, every Sunday - just GET it. Walk in His ways, speak and pray with eloquence, always doing the right thing. And heck, I didn't WANT to be one of you either. I'm a rebel, a colorful, sometimes *irreverant* thinker! (gasp)
But over the last two years in my small group I've realized, He doesn't want to change the authenticity of you or me! He wants to use you - and me - *just as we are* to be in service to Him.
Five years ago, I'd never have dreamed I'd spend a whole 24 hours in a *religious* woman's retreat - yesterday, I'd never have believed I'd be up here speaking to all of you! I just knew I was missing something - something really important in my life. And if I hadn't allowed myself to be open to Him - then I'd never have been able to see the blessing He's given me in the last two years of my life......even those I'm not willing to see as blessings.
I'd like to propose a challenge to all of you, as Dana did to all of us yesterday. If my sharing here today has spoken to any of you for some reason - that maybe you feel that you're missing something and you are not connected *somewhere* in the small group opportunities offered here at church, then seek it out. Whether it's a personal interest in singing or quilting or scrap booking or the children's ministry or a Bible study, strive for it with a gusto. Move beyond whatever fear holds you back and seek it out.
Life is too short, my friends. And I strongly believe that it's through our Christian fellowship that our spiritual growth takes off - our connections - letting it all hang out with others willing to do the same. Don't wait and hope it comes to you through your passivity, sitting in the pews gathering what you can from the sermons each week. There's so many of His blessings in store for you - we just have to have the openess...the GUTS...the lack of fear in the *moment* to discover it.
And at the very least, ladies of (our church) - sign up for the women's retreat for next year. I think we're having *HER* back!"
I did it. And in writing it here, I honestly can't believe that I said all that. That I was that gutsy, that bold, that brash and open about myself. It makes me wonder if I could do it again.
Of course I could...God does for us what we can't do for ourselves.
After that sermon, we had two people request which small group I belonged to.
You could have heard my heart beating throughout the sanctuary on that long walk to the pulpit. I'd brought my journal with me, marked with highlights over the important stuff throughout, hoping that I wouldn't go tongue tied and forget what I wanted to say. I know that I referred to it - had to refer to it - but delightedly, the words flowed from me. I made eye contact with the congregation, smiling and almost feeling at ease once I'd begun. You'd have thought I'd been doing this my whole life - well, at least stood in the pulpit for more than just dress rehearsal for choir.
I admitted my insecurity of speaking with them, sticking out my foot from the podium to share my wild socks that gave me the strength that Edna assured me. I'd told them what I shared with all of you about being Edna's liason. And my doubt with Dana. My first impressions of this eccentric little woman. And the mass WOW of our grouping once she began speaking.
I continued:
"Just days before coming to the retreat, I had been given a calling - a major one that I could NEVER imagine myself fulfilling at this time in my life - still can't wrap my hands around it. And her topic on "Timing is Everything" impacted me to the core. The suggestion, she said, that God's timing is impeccable and if we waited for everything to be perfect, nothing would get done. (Eccl 11:4) I'd wanted to say, no...really, I think His timing really STINKS, big time!
(Laughter)
But isn't it amazing - miraculous even, if you allow yourself to believe in those things - that maybe He knows what you need even better than you? That possibly He was waiting for THIS specific time in my life in order to offer it to me? Though I feel ill-equipped for the job, possibly NOW is the time of my life when I'm best able to tackle it because of all my experiences - even the *mistakes* - of my past.
I'd never have gotten here without the spiritual growth that I've gained through my small group. I went into that experience somewhat begrudgingly - and they've grown to be the people I look to for support most in my life right now.
Cuz you know..... I've never been like all of "you". Those who seem to, every Sunday - just GET it. Walk in His ways, speak and pray with eloquence, always doing the right thing. And heck, I didn't WANT to be one of you either. I'm a rebel, a colorful, sometimes *irreverant* thinker! (gasp)
But over the last two years in my small group I've realized, He doesn't want to change the authenticity of you or me! He wants to use you - and me - *just as we are* to be in service to Him.
Five years ago, I'd never have dreamed I'd spend a whole 24 hours in a *religious* woman's retreat - yesterday, I'd never have believed I'd be up here speaking to all of you! I just knew I was missing something - something really important in my life. And if I hadn't allowed myself to be open to Him - then I'd never have been able to see the blessing He's given me in the last two years of my life......even those I'm not willing to see as blessings.
I'd like to propose a challenge to all of you, as Dana did to all of us yesterday. If my sharing here today has spoken to any of you for some reason - that maybe you feel that you're missing something and you are not connected *somewhere* in the small group opportunities offered here at church, then seek it out. Whether it's a personal interest in singing or quilting or scrap booking or the children's ministry or a Bible study, strive for it with a gusto. Move beyond whatever fear holds you back and seek it out.
Life is too short, my friends. And I strongly believe that it's through our Christian fellowship that our spiritual growth takes off - our connections - letting it all hang out with others willing to do the same. Don't wait and hope it comes to you through your passivity, sitting in the pews gathering what you can from the sermons each week. There's so many of His blessings in store for you - we just have to have the openess...the GUTS...the lack of fear in the *moment* to discover it.
And at the very least, ladies of (our church) - sign up for the women's retreat for next year. I think we're having *HER* back!"
I did it. And in writing it here, I honestly can't believe that I said all that. That I was that gutsy, that bold, that brash and open about myself. It makes me wonder if I could do it again.
Of course I could...God does for us what we can't do for ourselves.
After that sermon, we had two people request which small group I belonged to.
Edna Blake
That following weekend of this very same week, I was scheduled to attend a Women's Retreat through our church. I emphasize the timing specifically because I can see the wise hand of God who reached in with magnificent timing once again, giving me awareness beyond my understanding. And strength beyond my imagination.
I was on the retreat committee that year. By default, I'd become the liason between our church and our speaker, Edna Blake, because my good friend, Dana, who highly recommended her, was going through some family issues of her own. I'd spoken a number of times to Edna on the phone and began to question Dana's judgement. Listening to this woman on the phone, her voice crackling, her confusion over directions or which church group we were, I thought, what the heck, Dana. This woman is OLD! She's confused! How is she going to be the dynamic person our church needs? What *I* need?!
When I met her at the door of the Mercy center, her arrival a relief given her concerns for driving there (despite the fact that she only lived 10 miles away), her appearance did nothing to help me in my general initial impression of her. Imagine, if you will, a small Dr. Ruth type woman. Bespectacled, hair set, voice small, this little woman couldn't possibly be all that Dana said that she'd be.
Yet this tiny dynamo, speaking in her colorful socks and Birkenstocks, had the power to catch all of us that weekend - no matter if we were in our 20's or 60's, making our eyes weep, in unabashed laughter or aching, shocked awareness, opening our eyes to God's message to each of us - that message being something completely individual to all. Her socks, she explained, were her "I-can-do-anything!" socks; a reminder to herself that God is with us all the time, even if we need some colorful reminder of it -- even to the point of wearing those ridiculous pair of loud socks in front of a large group of expectant Lutheran women. Women waiting to hear the magnanimous word of God from a tiny, old, forgetful being such as herself.
Of course, my ears were open to any message I could glean to help me deal with this tiny - unwanted- child growing within me.... the floodgate of messages were thrust open as she spoke.
She talked about our never knowing God's plan for our lives, but that He really does know the right time for everything. We're all being called to a task, she said, that we rarely feel prepared for - but He uses those weaknesses to keep our eyes set upon Him.
Wow....I'm listening, I thought to myself. Jim and I were lucky for 11 years. 11 years of "pull and pray", essentially. Why now? I did NOT feel at all prepared or ready to have another child; not at this time in my life, not now as chaos in my head exploded around me in early recovery. I allowed myself to wonder though, if I let Edna's message sink in, that maybe I was more prepared than I thought I was. More than I'd ever been in my life.
I was more aware of who I was, what I wanted/needed from others, than ever before in my 41 years. I was involved in three 12-step meetings a week, went to a personal therapist, my husband and I involved in counselling together, and my church ladies were behind me all the way. I had more support than I'd ever had in my life!
Maybe this is the one thing that is completely out of my hands; maybe it's the one way in which God can show me that I have no control; that I just have to sit back and trust my Creator, knowing that He'll take care of me and help me through it all. That the understanding, the strength, the patience will be there if I lean on Him. That I needed something as - impossible in my eyes - to fully ask for His help.
The next day, the message kept hammering home.
Ecclesiastes 11:4 Whoever watches the wind will not plant; whoever looks at the clouds will not reap.
In Edna's words: If you wait for perfect conditions, you well never get anything done.
I wanted to be further along in recovery, in counselling. I didn't feel ready for this!!
She stressed that the Holy Spirit is our trainer. We needed to be free of busy-ness so that we could listen. When we can do that, a sense of joy, happiness, peace, kindness and *self-control* will develop. God rested. We needed that too.
God didn't choose the perfect, the well prepared, the confident of the Bible to help Him meet his goals. He chose those that were broken, and in that broken-ness, He knew would look to Him for help.
As in a favorite Peder Eide song of mine, "As Is", God didn't choose the confident, perfect, all-knowing to help achieve His missions. He chose "Moses, a stutterer, David, a murderer, Jerahiah, suicidal, lying naked in the street, Lazereth who was *dead*, Sampson, a long haired womanizer, Noah, a drunk, Abraham who was old, Jacob, a liar, Leah who was "second best"... He chooses us As is. Infuses us as His. No excuses, he uses us as is."
Youtube the song. It's wonderful. But bottom line, I'd never feel ready. And that was the point. I'd put my self in His hands so far in recovery, handed everything over to Him. I'd trusted Him to get me this far. Maybe this was that last thing. The one thing that I said I'd NEVER do.
As I'd started into recovery, looking back over my life, how much He'd been there despite my resistance, the pitfalls He'd saved me from, I just knew in my heart that I was being "saved" for something special. Something BIG, I thought.
Yet, as I listened to Edna, I began to wonder. Humble myself. Maybe *this* was it. Motherhood. Maybe this was supposed to make me slow down and realize what a gift, how important *Motherhood* really was. I'd denigraded it ever since they'd gone off to elementary school. Put myself down for not doing something *really important*. Maybe this was the revisit I needed to help me realize what a gift it really was. And how truly special it was to nurture up another of His little souls. How arrogant of me to think that I had bigger dreams in mind than one so significant as that.
I really needed to hand it over to Him, knowing that I didn't have the outcome, but trust that He did. As all things, if He brought me to it, He'd bring me through it -- and show me as He had so far in this short time of recovery, a wonder that I'd not anticipated. Never dreamed of.
I still wasn't completely trusting in Him that I'd be able to carry a disabled child full term. Because of my age, I'd make sure to have any early diagnostic tests done to make sure the child was healthy. I'd schedule an amniocentesis. And take my will back into my own hands at that point if I needed to....
But right now, I could see all signs pointing to this being right. This child being born out of love - a new developing love of seeing each other truthfully - that Jim and I created. That there was no way I could destroy that. No matter my feelings of inadequacy, or fear of painting the same mistakes, that God would surely see me through if I leaned on Him.
And very possibly, a chance for me to revisit motherhood and fully embrace it, knowning how short it lasts, instead of resenting it and wishing it forward. It really didn't have to be the old picture. It would give a reason for Jim to change around his schedule, to offer me more help. To refigure his life so that he would be more of an active part of our family.
And to give my kids the opportunity to see that they weren't the be-all, end-all. That they needed to think beyond themselves. A healthy dose of reality to care for themselves and others around them.
In those terms -- it was exciting. I still didn't want to be SIXTY with a high school graduate, but ah well. Having a graduate at that age would probably keep me young.
It truly was in His hands.
At the end of the retreat, my friend Dana asked if anyone had something special that we'd like to share with the rest of the church the next morning. She challenged any of us to stand in the pulpit the next morning if we wanted to, if we had something we felt we needed to share.
Well sure, I thought. I had a HUGE message to share.
But call me on the phone. I'd even take you out to breakfast - and pay for it as well.
I had lots to say, an amazing message to tell of God's awesome presence in my life, but hell no. I wouldn't give myself over to public speaking, stand in the PULPIT, for God's sake. Me? Did they have any idea that I was a drug addict? Someone that espoused His name, but dragged her fingernails in the sand, yelling, NOOOO don't take me?! Surely I'd disintegrate to ashes in the pulpit.
(Did I have no memory of the messages I'd JUST heard?!)
I went home, only to be "gifted" for one more night. My family, thinking I'd be gone for TWO nights rather than one, went to the lakehouse leaving me alone for a full other night. Only too happy for another night of solitude, I procured a rental movie and some Oriental food, planning to sit back in delightful oblivion, losing myself in some romantic comedy.
Damn it, if I couldn't stop thinking of Dana's challenge.
I kept the movie running though, telling myself, no.... you can't do that. Don't be stupid. You're not a speaker. And in a pulpit?! Pfffft.....I nearly giggled aloud.
I wasn't even following the movie. I couldn't tell you what the plot was about.
OK, dammit. I hear You. I put aside my food, dug out my journal and started jotting some thoughts down. More and more, it poured out of me. I laughed, I cried in memory.
This was good. I knew I had something to say. Something that needed to be said. To be heard. That it might touch a few people. Inspire them as it did me. That my feelings - of inadequacy and self-doubt - would find a familiar tone in many a heart.
Could I, I dared to ask myself? Could I speak in front of all those people? In a pulpit, no less?? As a singer, I'd rather sing it in a solo!! Public speaking was just NOT my thing! And heavens, it might be long, I thought, as I looked back through the pages I'd written. There's nothing I wanted to leave out though. What if the pastors were disappointed that I was going on and on?
With a quiet sense of inner power, I thought, maybe what I had to say was equally as good as what the pastors did.
Finished and satisfied with what I'd written, I set my journal aside saying to myself, decide in the morning. No one has to know that you had this back and forth argument with God tonight. I can keep quiet about it, and no one would be the wiser.
In the morning, I searched for my wildest pair of socks. They were even *toed* - just in case I needed to feel His presence when I couldn't see that reminder.
"I need some time this morning to share," I told our diaconal minister when I arrived in church that morning. "God's telling me I have to do this thing....so here I am."
Here I am Lord. Lead, and I will follow.
*******
An update on Edna: Our entire church group was so moved by her that weekend, we invited her back a second time the following year. The first time ever we'd engaged the same speaker twice, and in consecutive years! She was the same humble inspiring dynamo. Though my own personal beliefs have grown outwards from hers, I'm still so touched by her inspiration and action in my life. With awed reverance, I give thanks to God for sending her my way - especially at that time in my life when I needed this message so much.
I was on the retreat committee that year. By default, I'd become the liason between our church and our speaker, Edna Blake, because my good friend, Dana, who highly recommended her, was going through some family issues of her own. I'd spoken a number of times to Edna on the phone and began to question Dana's judgement. Listening to this woman on the phone, her voice crackling, her confusion over directions or which church group we were, I thought, what the heck, Dana. This woman is OLD! She's confused! How is she going to be the dynamic person our church needs? What *I* need?!
When I met her at the door of the Mercy center, her arrival a relief given her concerns for driving there (despite the fact that she only lived 10 miles away), her appearance did nothing to help me in my general initial impression of her. Imagine, if you will, a small Dr. Ruth type woman. Bespectacled, hair set, voice small, this little woman couldn't possibly be all that Dana said that she'd be.
Yet this tiny dynamo, speaking in her colorful socks and Birkenstocks, had the power to catch all of us that weekend - no matter if we were in our 20's or 60's, making our eyes weep, in unabashed laughter or aching, shocked awareness, opening our eyes to God's message to each of us - that message being something completely individual to all. Her socks, she explained, were her "I-can-do-anything!" socks; a reminder to herself that God is with us all the time, even if we need some colorful reminder of it -- even to the point of wearing those ridiculous pair of loud socks in front of a large group of expectant Lutheran women. Women waiting to hear the magnanimous word of God from a tiny, old, forgetful being such as herself.
Of course, my ears were open to any message I could glean to help me deal with this tiny - unwanted- child growing within me.... the floodgate of messages were thrust open as she spoke.
She talked about our never knowing God's plan for our lives, but that He really does know the right time for everything. We're all being called to a task, she said, that we rarely feel prepared for - but He uses those weaknesses to keep our eyes set upon Him.
Wow....I'm listening, I thought to myself. Jim and I were lucky for 11 years. 11 years of "pull and pray", essentially. Why now? I did NOT feel at all prepared or ready to have another child; not at this time in my life, not now as chaos in my head exploded around me in early recovery. I allowed myself to wonder though, if I let Edna's message sink in, that maybe I was more prepared than I thought I was. More than I'd ever been in my life.
I was more aware of who I was, what I wanted/needed from others, than ever before in my 41 years. I was involved in three 12-step meetings a week, went to a personal therapist, my husband and I involved in counselling together, and my church ladies were behind me all the way. I had more support than I'd ever had in my life!
Maybe this is the one thing that is completely out of my hands; maybe it's the one way in which God can show me that I have no control; that I just have to sit back and trust my Creator, knowing that He'll take care of me and help me through it all. That the understanding, the strength, the patience will be there if I lean on Him. That I needed something as - impossible in my eyes - to fully ask for His help.
The next day, the message kept hammering home.
Ecclesiastes 11:4 Whoever watches the wind will not plant; whoever looks at the clouds will not reap.
In Edna's words: If you wait for perfect conditions, you well never get anything done.
I wanted to be further along in recovery, in counselling. I didn't feel ready for this!!
She stressed that the Holy Spirit is our trainer. We needed to be free of busy-ness so that we could listen. When we can do that, a sense of joy, happiness, peace, kindness and *self-control* will develop. God rested. We needed that too.
God didn't choose the perfect, the well prepared, the confident of the Bible to help Him meet his goals. He chose those that were broken, and in that broken-ness, He knew would look to Him for help.
As in a favorite Peder Eide song of mine, "As Is", God didn't choose the confident, perfect, all-knowing to help achieve His missions. He chose "Moses, a stutterer, David, a murderer, Jerahiah, suicidal, lying naked in the street, Lazereth who was *dead*, Sampson, a long haired womanizer, Noah, a drunk, Abraham who was old, Jacob, a liar, Leah who was "second best"... He chooses us As is. Infuses us as His. No excuses, he uses us as is."
Youtube the song. It's wonderful. But bottom line, I'd never feel ready. And that was the point. I'd put my self in His hands so far in recovery, handed everything over to Him. I'd trusted Him to get me this far. Maybe this was that last thing. The one thing that I said I'd NEVER do.
As I'd started into recovery, looking back over my life, how much He'd been there despite my resistance, the pitfalls He'd saved me from, I just knew in my heart that I was being "saved" for something special. Something BIG, I thought.
Yet, as I listened to Edna, I began to wonder. Humble myself. Maybe *this* was it. Motherhood. Maybe this was supposed to make me slow down and realize what a gift, how important *Motherhood* really was. I'd denigraded it ever since they'd gone off to elementary school. Put myself down for not doing something *really important*. Maybe this was the revisit I needed to help me realize what a gift it really was. And how truly special it was to nurture up another of His little souls. How arrogant of me to think that I had bigger dreams in mind than one so significant as that.
I really needed to hand it over to Him, knowing that I didn't have the outcome, but trust that He did. As all things, if He brought me to it, He'd bring me through it -- and show me as He had so far in this short time of recovery, a wonder that I'd not anticipated. Never dreamed of.
I still wasn't completely trusting in Him that I'd be able to carry a disabled child full term. Because of my age, I'd make sure to have any early diagnostic tests done to make sure the child was healthy. I'd schedule an amniocentesis. And take my will back into my own hands at that point if I needed to....
But right now, I could see all signs pointing to this being right. This child being born out of love - a new developing love of seeing each other truthfully - that Jim and I created. That there was no way I could destroy that. No matter my feelings of inadequacy, or fear of painting the same mistakes, that God would surely see me through if I leaned on Him.
And very possibly, a chance for me to revisit motherhood and fully embrace it, knowning how short it lasts, instead of resenting it and wishing it forward. It really didn't have to be the old picture. It would give a reason for Jim to change around his schedule, to offer me more help. To refigure his life so that he would be more of an active part of our family.
And to give my kids the opportunity to see that they weren't the be-all, end-all. That they needed to think beyond themselves. A healthy dose of reality to care for themselves and others around them.
In those terms -- it was exciting. I still didn't want to be SIXTY with a high school graduate, but ah well. Having a graduate at that age would probably keep me young.
It truly was in His hands.
At the end of the retreat, my friend Dana asked if anyone had something special that we'd like to share with the rest of the church the next morning. She challenged any of us to stand in the pulpit the next morning if we wanted to, if we had something we felt we needed to share.
Well sure, I thought. I had a HUGE message to share.
But call me on the phone. I'd even take you out to breakfast - and pay for it as well.
I had lots to say, an amazing message to tell of God's awesome presence in my life, but hell no. I wouldn't give myself over to public speaking, stand in the PULPIT, for God's sake. Me? Did they have any idea that I was a drug addict? Someone that espoused His name, but dragged her fingernails in the sand, yelling, NOOOO don't take me?! Surely I'd disintegrate to ashes in the pulpit.
(Did I have no memory of the messages I'd JUST heard?!)
I went home, only to be "gifted" for one more night. My family, thinking I'd be gone for TWO nights rather than one, went to the lakehouse leaving me alone for a full other night. Only too happy for another night of solitude, I procured a rental movie and some Oriental food, planning to sit back in delightful oblivion, losing myself in some romantic comedy.
Damn it, if I couldn't stop thinking of Dana's challenge.
I kept the movie running though, telling myself, no.... you can't do that. Don't be stupid. You're not a speaker. And in a pulpit?! Pfffft.....I nearly giggled aloud.
I wasn't even following the movie. I couldn't tell you what the plot was about.
OK, dammit. I hear You. I put aside my food, dug out my journal and started jotting some thoughts down. More and more, it poured out of me. I laughed, I cried in memory.
This was good. I knew I had something to say. Something that needed to be said. To be heard. That it might touch a few people. Inspire them as it did me. That my feelings - of inadequacy and self-doubt - would find a familiar tone in many a heart.
Could I, I dared to ask myself? Could I speak in front of all those people? In a pulpit, no less?? As a singer, I'd rather sing it in a solo!! Public speaking was just NOT my thing! And heavens, it might be long, I thought, as I looked back through the pages I'd written. There's nothing I wanted to leave out though. What if the pastors were disappointed that I was going on and on?
With a quiet sense of inner power, I thought, maybe what I had to say was equally as good as what the pastors did.
Finished and satisfied with what I'd written, I set my journal aside saying to myself, decide in the morning. No one has to know that you had this back and forth argument with God tonight. I can keep quiet about it, and no one would be the wiser.
In the morning, I searched for my wildest pair of socks. They were even *toed* - just in case I needed to feel His presence when I couldn't see that reminder.
"I need some time this morning to share," I told our diaconal minister when I arrived in church that morning. "God's telling me I have to do this thing....so here I am."
Here I am Lord. Lead, and I will follow.
*******
An update on Edna: Our entire church group was so moved by her that weekend, we invited her back a second time the following year. The first time ever we'd engaged the same speaker twice, and in consecutive years! She was the same humble inspiring dynamo. Though my own personal beliefs have grown outwards from hers, I'm still so touched by her inspiration and action in my life. With awed reverance, I give thanks to God for sending her my way - especially at that time in my life when I needed this message so much.
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