God's Incredible Gift (02/09/2012)

“You won’t be here in five weeks”, he said. “You may not even be here tomorrow." And then he added, “You might not even be here tonight. We have to do this now!” The expression on his face was one of alarm and grave concern; but I was hesitant and just not ready to trust this determined stranger.

It was our first meeting. My cardiologist was away on vacation and I was scheduled to see him in five weeks for a routine six-month stress test evaluation. However, agonizing and escalating chest pains prompted me to consult the doctor on call, even though I was confident that my heart was not the issue. Just five months prior, after several heart tests, my cardiologist gave me great news: my heart was “pristine” – “a heart of gold” – “the heart of Wonder Woman!” he exclaimed. But now, a new doctor, who had just finished an EKG, wanted to send me immediately to the hospital for an angiogram. His diagnosis was Acute Coronary Syndrome.

Something just wasn’t right.

“How did this come to be?” I silently questioned while lying in the hospital bed of the cardiac care unit and waited for the nurses to do all the necessary things they routinely do for heart patients. I had followed all the rules, kept to a heart healthy diet, exercised, carefully guarded my cholesterol levels, and did everything I was supposed to do - and I was pleased with my efforts. Now, unbelievably, I was counting every grueling heartbeat and labored breath as I waited to be transported to the cath Lab.

As I silently prayed, Isaiah 58:8 came to my mind. It says, “Then your light will break forth like the dawn, and your healing will quickly appear; then your righteousness will go before you, and the glory of the LORD will be your rear guard.”

I was comforted. God’s word has served me with great wisdom, comfort, and healing in all situations and through every trial of my life. “Continue to guard my heart, Lord” I prayed, “It belongs to You.”

The cath lab was cold but warm blankets covered me and I was at peace. The Creator of all that is was in control. I closed my eyes and after what seemed like seconds, the cardiologist performing the procedure spoke into my ear. “Marie, your stent is 99% blocked with scar tissue and blood clots. We have a decision to make.”

He told me of the options and risks. He could restent or wait and do open heart surgery. 

“This heart belongs to God,” I said, “and He’s not finished with it yet.” I chose to restent even at the great risks that I was told might happen. 

The Sovereign Lord guarded my heart.

A couple of days later, as I stood at the window of my hospital room, gazing out at the gloom of a cloudy and rainy day, I heard a familiar voice behind me. “Marie, what happened to you?!” There was that familiar face that I trusted with all my life - my cardiologist - returned from his vacation.

“”You’re back!” I said with great delight. We had much to talk about. He was just as puzzled as I – if not more so, that this had happened to me. He was surprised to see my name on his list of hospital patients, he said, and when he saw it there, he rushed to look at my records and films. My heart, he explained, had been close to dying; but an extraordinary thing happened. The front part of my heart, where the blockage was, protected itself by going to sleep instead of dying – like in a state of hibernation. 

That was the gift God gave. He gave my heart the ability to protect itself by putting itself to sleep instead of dying! The God of all creation guarded my heart and preserved it!

My cardiologist and I sat together going through my chart. “This should not have happened!” he said. But after exploring my medical records, we discovered the cause of my problem. And it was not of my making. A few short months earlier I’d been taken off one of my heart medications by another doctor because of an adverse reaction. The medication, vital to the well being of my heart, was not replaced with another. The result is that my heart was unprotected and scar tissue built up very rapidly.

All-in-all, it was an extraordinary experience. And the best part is that I was in a situation that presented an incredible gift – God’s mercy and His love in a unique and astounding way!

My cardiologist held my hands in his and said, “You have a book to finish writing!” (My book is a story about God’s redemptive power on multiple levels in a little village called Kodera, Kenya in Africa). I briefly shared the story with my cardiologist several months ago and he remembered. And I remembered that he wants to read the final draft when I finish it. It’s time to get back to work. God's story needs to be told and He has appointed me to tell it. Thank you, Elohim, for keeping a safeguard on my heart and for preserving it for Your purpose.

The Greatest Treasure

During the first retreat day I could hardly wait for some free time to head off into the forest with my camera. That time came shortly after breakfast. Ah! The perfect time! Morning sunlight!

With my camera in hand, I headed off toward the path that led into the woods. At the start of the trail I heard a distant voice behind me calling my name. It was Martine. She needed a forest walking partner and asked if she could come along. Of course she could join me; but I warned her that my focus would be on the flora and fauna of the forest and I wouldn't be a great companion for conversation. That was OK with her. She just didn't want to walk alone.

The forest was everything I had expected and more. We found unexpected treasures scattered along the way - some of which I posted in my photo album titled, "Retreat Center and Treasures in the Forest." The woods were enchanting and I felt richly blessed to be on this journey through yet another of God's wonderful and awesome creations - the dense woods of Rainbow Lodge Retreat Center in North Bend, Washington.

We were in the midst of the thick woods when I suddenly became overwhelmed by the things of the forest. My lungs began to shut down. It happened that quickly and without warning. An avalanche of realities slapped me very hard during that frightening moment. In my eager quest to capture the forest scenes, I had foolishly forgotten some very important facts and issues: (1) I have asthma. (2) I left my inhaler in my backpack which was still at the lodge. (3) My cell phone was also at the lodge and I had no way of calling for help. (4) I have absolutely no sense of direction. I might have gotten lost in the forest if it had not been for Martine who has a very keen sense of direction. 

Martine proved to be of more worth as the seconds dragged by. She saw that I was in trouble and asked, “What’s wrong?”

“My lungs are shutting down,” I gasped. “I have asthma and I left my inhaler behind. 

Martine reached for something in her pocket and produced an albuterol inhaler. “I have asthma too,” she said. Use mine.” 

My airways opened again with the first puff of the inhaler. Relief was only a breath away.

Martine also had her cell phone with her and had walked the forest during the previous day and knew the paths well. We headed out of the forest as soon as I had regained my strength to make the journey. This time, Martine took the lead. However, I was still a bit shaken by the experience and it took a few moments for me to settle back into that place of inner peace.

As we walked across a mossy bridge that spanned a little brook, I spotted a heart-shaped rock on the muddy bank. I pick it up and studied it for a moment. It was covered with mud. Kathy, who had caught up with us on the trail, was closest to the brook so she volunteered to wash the mud from the rock in the icy cold water. Such a loving gesture!

The rock reminded me of the Greatest Treasure that is always with me – even when I do foolish things. That greatest treasure is God’s incredible love, demonstrated in so many ways:

When I wandered off alone in an overly eager quest; and foolishly forgot some very important live-saving factors, He was there watching over me. 

When Martine called my name, He was there giving me a companion to help me through the trouble ahead.

As I struggled with that first labored breath in the woods and when Martine handed me her inhaler, He was there showing His care for me.

When I spotted the rock resting on the bank, He was there teaching me another lesson.

When Kathy washed the mud from the rock in the frigid stream, He was there reminding me that though the mud of life often splatters us He washes us clean again.

There is so much more to this story. I love when God teaches me in these ways and continues to love me and guide me through my foolish times. 

The rock sits on my desk and serves as a reminder of that time in the forest. It’s not a perfect heart-shaped rock. Rough and pitted places dot the surface of the rock and a deep brown scar cuts across its face. But it is beautiful. And as I hold it in my hand, I contemplate its journey - rolling, tumbling, and tossing along rivers, streams, and brooks; and smashing into other rocks that break off pieces at just the right places in order to form it into a heart-shaped rock. This beautiful forest rock could not have been shaped in any other way.

We are each as this rock with its rough and pitted places. We are still being shaped by life’s lessons while being blessed by the greatest treasure of all: God’s amazing love and grace.

Being Faithful In the Smallest Of Tasks

Bein

Nature is the canvas God paints on and I love photographing His work, especially in the early spring when the season begins to awaken the sleeping things of the earth and tiny new leaves and buds begin to appear.

It’s magical!

I’m amazed at how the tiny things begin as infant bulbs that slowly cultivate petite and fragile petals as they grow. I took special care in noticing how new little buds of every growing thing hold their petals together as in a gesture of prayer before opening themselves into full bloom to expose their inner beauty.

We could glean a mighty lesson from nature.

Little buds take days to fully flourish. I’ve spent some time observing them; and as I say this, I envision the tree in front of my house. It is adorned with numerous newborn buds. I’ve been watching and recording their progress in photographs. Some of the buds have blossomed into clusters of tiny delicate yellow flowers. There are several of them on each of the branches. Soon they will mature into leaves and the tree’s seasonal cycle will repeat itself each year until the tree ceases to exist.

I’ve been in this location for a while so I’m privileged to see the changes taking place on this particular tree throughout the seasons of the year. The little yellow flowers become tiny leaves that fill the tree and grow into bigger leaves that provide beauty, shade and housing for the birds of the air, and a frolicking place for the little squirrels. It’s invigorating to watch these exquisite leaves dance, and listen to them sing whenever a gentle air current wafts through their branches. It’s like a chatter of song giving praise to the season of summer sunshine.

Fall enchants me with a glorious display of colorful leaves on the stately tree. I sit on the deck or view this magnificent tree from my patio window and marvel at the spectacular display of gold, red, pink, yellow, green, brown, tan, and lavender leaves quivering in the breeze as gusts of wind snatch them, one by one, from the arms of the tree. They soar on the wind or twirl as a ballerina in a pirouette as they dance along the streets and walkways. And then they are gone forever, never to return again. The same leaves will never return. New ones will come and take their place. We can be sure of this, as long as the tree remains.

We could glean a mighty lesson from nature.

Winter comes too soon. All the leaves disappear, withered, disintegrated, and dissolved into dust that blends itself back into the earth. Then the branches become heavy with snow as soft, cold mounds of white recline on frozen branches and glimmers as sunlight momentarily peeks through the gray cloudy skies. Winter has its own beauty.

After the winter, spring sings in celebration of its return and the cycle begins again with new little buds.

It’s a faithful tree, that extraordinary maple tree in front of my home. It continues to be faithful in all the little tasks that have been assigned to it throughout the seasons of its life; and it isn’t discontent with its assignment, nor does it uproot itself in search of an accomplishment that it might consider to be of greater value. It is content to be a Maple Tree and flourish in the way God intended it to do. And I, for one, am blessed that it exists.

We could glean a mighty lesson from nature.

God’s propose for us, I believe, is to love Him, and to learn from all His creations; and like the maple tree, to be faithful in all the little tasks He assigns to us through every season of our life. By doing so, we bless others; and we are exceedingly blessed in return.

Walking In the Light Of Miracles

Meet Fred, an amazing guy and a cancer survivor - three times in his lifetime. He won the victory over leukemia after a hard battle - twice! Much later, Fred battled and won the victory over non-Hodgkin's lymphoma. Fred is an inspiration and an encourager of hope and peace in the midst of life's toughest battles. He tells his story to all who will listen, crediting His Creator for the healing in his life. I saw him briefly while I was in California a few weeks ago. He had to leave for rehearsal so the visit was short. The next visit will be longer. Fred is an accomplished musician and an award winning water-colorist. But more than that, Fred is an amazing guy with an ever-ready smile and and inner joy that spills over to others.

Fred is my cousin.

Looking back on the growing up phase of our life I remember the horse episode most. Fred was ten years young at that time and I was fourteen. He'd selected a horse for me for my very first ride - a horse called Diablo. I didn't know the horse's name when I climbed up on his back, but Diablo lived up to his menacing name. However, I was a determined kid and Diablo didn't get  the best of me. I stayed on that frolicking horse until someone brought him to a halt. Fred got into trouble for selecting Diablo for me to ride but the experience gave me further insight into myself and I gained a greater confidence in my ability to cope with difficult situations. I'm confident that Fred had no malicious intent. He was just being a  ten-year-old with no insight into possible consequences. My belated and much wiser thanks to Fred for that opportunity to gain an important insight into my coping skills.

A more recent example of strength happened a few short weeks ago. I'd been very sick in past months and was getting progressively worse. My strength and energy were gone and I was in pain most of the time. In months past, doctors couldn't seem to locate the source of my progressing symptoms. But now it had a name. One doctor finally looked in the right place and found it. Its name was cancer.

When I was told that I had cancer, that I needed to have surgery, a lengthy hospital stay, radiation therapy, and possible chemotherapy as well. I refused to panic at that shocking news. I remember taking in a deep breath and slowly letting it out as the doctor was busy with a referral to an oncologist. I remembered that this situation was in the control of my Creator and I just needed to claim His peace in the midst of this difficult situation and trust Him in the process.

As I was leaving the doctor's office, he said this to me, "We're sending you to the best place and putting you in the best of hands."

I turned to the doctor and with the greatest of peace and confidence, I replied, "The best hands I'm in are in the hands of my Creator."

It was during that very moment, as the words left my mouth: "...in the hands of my Creator" that I felt a physical change taking place within my body. A gentle source of energy and strength, powerful enough to displace the sickness, was being poured into me. It was an incredible feeling! I knew at that very moment, that the biopsy was going to prove that the cancer was gone. I felt physically strong, spiritually energized, and filled with that powerful peace that passes all understanding - the peace of God.

Because of all the high risk markers (my symptoms, test results, and the doctor's findings) the oncologist had me sign permission papers for surgery and for radiation therapy. I signed the papers, still confident that I had been healed. The oncologist did the biopsy that very day and the report (a few days later) was negative for cancer. I thank God for His Divine healing and for the strength He gave me to trust Him while in the midst of that ordeal.

Today, I continue to experience the healing. I have more energy, strength, and stamina than I had in past months. The pain is gone and all the other symptoms I had have left. Whatever the illness was that I'd had (cancer or otherwise) is healed.

The photograph of Fred and me is one of triumphant joy and gratitude. I'm not new to experiencing God's miracles in my life and I suspect that Fred is no stranger in this area either. As we shared our stories with one another, Fred agreed that we had both been healed of cancer. I believe that there is more work for us to do for God's Kingdom purpose. I look forward to that purpose with great anticipation and excitement as I walk in the Light of God's incredible miracles. He's already put things in place for me and I'm already heading off into that direction. I'll share more of this at another time.

God's Word says,

"For I know the plans I have for you," declares the LORD, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future" (Jeremiah 29:11). 
I believe this and I have seen the evidence of it.

My life is in your hands

Moving Forward

I believe that everything happens for a reason. I think the stressful things in life happen to test the limits of our souls or to help us see more deeply inside of who we think we are so that we can grow in a different direction if we need to do so. I've learned to be grateful for these growing times, as trying as they are, because I believe that means I’m moving forward -- not sinking helplessly in a stagnate pool of hopelessness.

In spite of the storm, I know that I can make it!

A Most Magnificent Thing

Driving home from a doctor's appointment with several medical test request forms lying on the seat next to me, I found myself feeling discouraged and a little frustrated with life and the misery that illness brings. As I contemplated hosting a small pity party for myself, something gliding overhead and just in front of my view caught my attention. I glanced up, being careful to keep most of my focus on the road ahead as I entered the freeway overpass. It was a dark image flying low and across my path as it headed in a northern direction. At first glance I thought it might be one of the f117 stealth fighter planes because it had a most unusual shape. Then the thing moved its wings and I recognized the mighty wing span and the feathery white head -- a very clear image of a mature bald eagle. I had never seen one of these superb creations outside of captivity -- and especially flying over the city!  It was a most magnificent thing!

Continuing my homeward journey, I thought about the eagle flying across my path. I looked up through my windshield at the blue sky again, hoping to catch another glimpse, but the eagle was no longer in view. It flew across my path so swiftly, so briefly, but the memory is a treasure I will always keep. One legend has it that eagles deliver messages from God. With this in mind, I thought about the many times God sends me His peace and comfort during difficult times. The Sovereign Lord had, again, reminded me that there is nothing outside of His control as this scripture from His Holy Word came to my thoughts: "But those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint." (Isaiah 40:31) NIV.


As I let go of the discouragement and frustration that bound me like a heavy chain wrapped around my chest, my heart began to sing the song, "It Is Well With My Soul," and my spirit began to soar with renewed strength.

For more information about bald eagles go to http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bald_Eagle

Philip Yancey On Prayer

I Believe

I believe that in the face of overwhelming challenge, we will be okay; that in the path of that which we perceive to be completely destroyed, there is hope; that believing we are going to make it is what gives us strength to go on. But more than this, I believe in the God of the impossible who takes us through those challenges and those perceived destructions with renewed strength and demonstrates His power over weakness and impossibilities. mg

For God who said, "Let light shine out of darkness," made his light shine in our hearts to give us the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Christ.  2 Corinthians 4:6

A Miraculous Recovery

My dear friends, Larry and Priscilla Larsen, are the featured story on Healthy Outlook, a quarterly magazine published by Overlake Hospital Medical Center in Bellevue, Washington.

Larry suffered a sudden cardiac arrest in January 2010. A number of miraculous events occurred during those critical moments that led to Larry's rescue and subsequent healing. They would be too numerous to list in this short account. I was blessed to have been a part of the prayer team interceding for Larry and Priscilla during those minutes, hours, and days. Priscilla was a tower of strength, demonstrating the power within her -- the power of the Sovereign Lord sustaining her through that time, and besides staying by her husband's side and encouraging him, she also took the time to send email updates to everyone.

An excerpt from Healthy Outlook article says this:

"The team raced against the clock in those first few minutes, but Larry still wasn't entirely stable. On his fourth day in the Critical Care Unit, his heart started quivering erratically; he stopped breathing and flat-lined three times in six hours. Doctors shocked him 24 times and worked tirelessly to save his life. Ten days after the heart attack, Larry's cardiologist delivered the welcome news that Larry was well enough to go home. Hours later, Larry walked out of the hospital."

"Larry's cardiologist said, Clinically speaking, Larry died in the car -- and three more times over the next several days while in the hospital."

Larry and Priscilla tell their story:

Larry can hardly believe his recovery. "I'm biking a few miles a day, and by the end of the summer, (my doctor) says I'll be able to hike up the nearby mountains again."

Priscilla adds, "I'm so grateful to all the doctors and nurses who healed Larry's body, but I also believe the fact he came back to me with his mind intact is truly a sign that God gave us the miracle we asked for. Just think, six and a half weeks after he died, and the doctor has just given him the go-ahead to continue his life as before! And once again, I am observing the miracle which our loving God granted us."

It has only been six months since Larry's death and life experience. Not many people come back from the dead. But he did -- several times. His healing is a witness to God's loving mercy, compassion, and Divine healing.

A little more about Larry and Priscilla Larsen:

 Priscilla is the chairperson of the Global Missions Department at her church. She and Larry travel the globe, visiting several mission ministries that they have helped establish, and lend their help and support through short-term mission trips and financial contributions.

For further reading about Larry's miraculous recovery, go to:

http://sammamishreview.com/2010/02/08/larry-larsen-comes-back

Dandelion Wind

Dancing In the Rain

Two years have passed (all to my surprise) since my last entry. It’s not that I’ve been so busy that I haven’t had time to write. In reality, I’ve continued to write, I still suffer, I continue to be strengthened in the midst of it all and I’ve delighted in receiving power and wisdom through the journey. I scribbled notes here and there about my voyages and stored them in various journals and sticky notes so that I can transfer my memos to somewhere more secure. However, regrettably, I’ve not been able to remember where I put them. I’m confident that they’ll show up when the time is right for them to appear.

It seems to be my assignment in life to suffer. I have a very intense awareness, however, that this is not the final purpose for my life on earth. I’m a listener, an observer, a learner, and an encourager. Life has many things to teach and I think I learn best in the storms of life. I have a new diagnosis concerning my health, but I'm grateful that there is treatment. At the present time, I'm waiting out the time of tests and test results and researching information.

A dear friend often says, “Life isn’t about how to survive the storm. It’s about how to dance in the rain.” I frequently find myself praying for strength to dance in the rain until the sun shines again. Strength dosen't come often so I am content to enjoy the sun-breaks during the waiting. Fortunately, I don’t have to wait very long for a sun-break to happen. Living in the Pacific Northwest means that we have frequent, glorious sun breaks during the rainy season. At the same time, I know that being a child of The Most High and keeping my focus on eternity instead of the passing things of life means that I have frequent Son breaks during the darkened storms of life.

Let me describe the joy of a sun-break in the midst of a dark, gloomy, rain-soaked day:

Within minutes, the stormy clouds begin to dissipate and the gloom of a drab world is transformed into bright, wonderful hues of blue. Tiny patches of white fluffy clouds dance across the sky on the breath of a quiet wind and a long bold arch of radiant colors appear on the horizon. Bird song joins the celebration and all the vegetation shines and shimmers with astonishing brilliance in the glow of the sun. Tiny raindrops cling to the tips of every pine needle and sparkle in the small breeze that brings the scent of clean, refreshing air. It is during this time that I feel the Master's tender, loving touch upon my heart and I am reminded of His words, "I am making everything new!" (Revelation 21:5). I breathe in His goodness and mercy and I know, deep down in my spirit, that after the storms have passed, God's loving mercy will open doors to new beginnings; and I am at peace with the world and the circumstances of life and joyful to be in the presence of the Sovereign Lord who shows me great and mighty things as He reminds me that He loves me with an everlasting love.

Now who could possibly resist dancing in the rain in joyful anticipation?!

Sometimes I want so much to dance in the rain, twirling with the strength of my youth and with new-found joy at the freedom of dancing in a downpour. I did that once, as a child. Well, as a young adult, actually. I was looking out the window, watching the torrent of rain as it pounded my little corner of the world. My younger sister came into the room and sat beside me. We had just returned home from church that stormy Sunday morning.

"Would you like to go for a walk with me?" I asked.

She gasped with surprise that I would suggest such a thing. "It's pouring rain outside!" she exclaimed.

"All the more fun!" I answered, as I reached for her hand and raced toward the door with an astonished little sis in tow.

Still dressed in our Sunday best, we greeted the rain with laughter and giggles as we twirled down the sidewalk, jumping and splashing in puddles and in streams of running water trickling down the street. Our clothes were soaked with rain and our carefully coiffed dos were stretched into lengthy strings of limp wet hair. But it was a treasured moment. We were dancing in the rain and absolutely nothing could have snatched that joy from us. All the troubles of the world disappeared in that wonderful time frame.

It's a memory I still love to visit.

It is now 50 years later since that cherished time, and I find that the strength and energy just don't always come when I need to dance in the rain. It comes less and less lately. During those times, I have to tell myself that it's OK not to dance in the rain when I absolutely cannot; that it's sometimes better just to be still and enjoy the stillness, knowing and trusting that the sun breaks will happen again... and maybe, just maybe, during another downpour -- I will be able to twirl.

At The Edge of the Journey

The discomfort increased in intensity and duration over time and my doctor kept telling me it wasn’t my heart -- even though all the symptoms indicated that it was. During my last exam, I lost patience. “Something in my chest is screaming for attention and the screaming gets louder every day!” I said. “If it isn’t my heart then let’s find out what it is and fix it.”

My physician prescribed Nitroglycerin tablets for “Just in case”, she said, and asked me to schedule an appointment for further tests that were not heart related. And then she added, “It isn’t your heart.” I was growing very, very tired of hearing that.

That incident happened a few days earlier. Now I sat with my friend, a very wise and sympathetic RN, who listened compassionately while I purged frustrations. The discomfort was still in my chest, just behind the sternum. It felt like an elephant was resting its foot on my chest. As with previous episodes, I’d found it increasingly difficult to breathe. I’d break out in a cold sweat, experience nausea, dizziness, and an overwhelming feeling of weakness and fatigue. Still, the words echoed in my memory, “It’s not your heart.” Something inside me bought into that so I ignored significant warnings. It was easy to do when an EKG indicated that my heart was OK. Yet the pain was getting worse as time passed -- month after month after month. It didn't matter what I was doing, the pain persisted. One particular evening an episode of chest pain lasted more than an hour as I sat quietly reading in my lounging chair at home. Even when the pain went into my jaw and I struggled to breathe, I kept hearing, "It's not your heart." I'd become programmed into believing it wasn't my heart, so I did nothing.

Days later, as I sat chatting with my nurse friend, I experienced another episode of chest pain. “Do you have Nitroglycerin tablets with you?” She asked. I did, and took one at her urging. The chest pain subsided, but five minutes later I had another episode and took an additional nitroglycerin tablet that aleviated the pain. I was experiencing unstable angina, she said. I knew the symptoms. I'd had them many times before.

With my friend's concerned urging, I called my cardiologist. She called my cardiologist too, and expressed grave concern as a medical professional. An angiogram was scheduled. And there it was -- the problem was my heart after all. A stent that had been implanted a year earlier was now 99% occluded with scar tissue. The stent had been placed in my coronary artery because the artery had been 85% blocked with plaque, even though my cholesterol and triglyceride levels were perfect.

My cardiologist calls me a mystery, but he performed an angioplasty with a new stent implant inside the old one. Afterwards, he told me I had been only minutes away from a fatal heart attack. Fortunately, there was no damage done to my heart. "If we had not done this procedure today," he said, "you would have been dead tomorrow."

Psalm 121: 7,8 says: "The Lord will keep you from all harm – he will watch over your coming and going both now and forevermore".

I believe this. I am living that promise.

After a nuclear stress test just a few months ago, my cardiologist turned to me with joy dancing in his eyes and said, "You have the heart of Wonder Woman!" He pointed to the computer screen to show me the images of my heart, and there it was in amazing glorious color on the screen, a heart completely healed!

Discovery and Recovery

It isn’t so important to write about the details of my discoveries on the way to healing the inner child as it is to acknowledge that recovery is possible, and most importantly, it is attainable. The time frame for this process is however long it takes; and the journey is one that is taken with courage, strength and trust. Opening the door of one’s soul to walk through past storms is never easy. Storms can be severe and frightening. Ah! But there is so much to learn in a storm! I began that inward journey with great determination, jumping in with both feet on the way to becoming real. Those who know me describe me as one who is very much in touch with my feelings. Being “in-touch” was a gift that blessed my efforts and brought timely discoveries that led to effective recovery. Long forgotten wounds that had festered for a time were opened, grieved, cleansed and healed.

The wounded past waits to be discovered. Everyone has one. That marred period of time is destined to be relived and anxious to be healed. Think about a garden where weeds abound. Look at the garden and visualize how beautiful it can be with an array of flowering plants, shrubs, fruit and shade trees, and maybe even a fish pond or a fountain. Now look at the all the weeds. The weeds, if not removed, will eventually take over the entire garden and sabotage all attempts to grow flowers. If we grow a garden full of weeds, all we have to give away are weed stalks that have weed seeds attached to them; and the weed seeds germinate in other gardens; and the cycle continues.

Gardens are completely dependant on those who care for them. We are the keepers of our garden. Some keepers never see the weeds. Others work to keep the garden as free as possible of weeds. But we all know the resilience of weeds. They come back! The work is a continuous event. Then there are others who see the weeds but leave them in the soil and bitterly complain. Weeds flourish in gardens such as these. Using this analogy, here’s what I see happening in a weed garden: The bitterness stick strikes the stink weed that fills the garden with a putrid stench that causes the angry plant to spew out venomous thorns that strike the hurt plant that cries acid tears that terrifies the fear plant that emits a cloud of poisonous gas… and any flower left in the garden withers and dies.

What happened during that time of weeding that helped me through that process of discovery and recovery? How was I able to walk through those terrible storms again and have the courage to open closed doors to explore the places that I’d kept hidden? What was it that gave me the strength and endurance to continue weeding a garden with weeds?

The story continues…

Discovery Two

The pain was urgent and was demanding release, so I decided to purchase one of the books and return to the privacy of my home where I could explore the words and the stories. I had to find out why I was seeing myself in the books I had chosen to browse through.

It was difficult to decide which book to buy. I grabbed two of the books and took them to the check-out counter and asked the sales lady for a recommendation. I explained about the radio program I’d stumbled onto and my curiosity about certain words and phrases. The words that struck my spirit most were the words “dysfunctional” and “the responsible one.” I don’t know why they struck me but I was desperate to explore this new-found territory and take the first step in the journey of discovery. As I began to speak, another sob came rushing to the surface with the full force of unrestrained grief and agony. I stood there in that little book store, trembling and fighting the tears and the pain that demanded release. I’d been a happy person up until that moment – or so I thought. Then I did something that seemed so inexcusable, so unlike me, I buried my face in my hands and sobbed in a public place as though no one else was present.

As I cried, gentle arms reached around me in a tender embrace and a soft, compassionate voice whispered into my heart, “It’s OK. It hurts. It’s OK to cry. Let it go. There’s healing in letting go. There’s healing in tears.”

When I uncovered my eyes, two people were hugging me: the nice sales lady from behind the counter and a giant man. Both had tears in their eyes. Both wore expressions of compassion and understanding. I felt protected and I felt loved. Days later, I discovered that the lady and the giant were married to each other and were owners of the bookstore that bore the name “Stepping Stones.” They’d been through their own healing of the wounded child and they knew and understood my pain.

Both books I’d selected were recommended as starters, and the sales lady even gave me some literature about various support groups in the area. When I returned to my home I opened one of the books and started reading, turning the pages very carefully as if each page were a very fragile thing. With every turn of the page, little red paper hearts spilled from the book onto my chest -- right over the area of my heart. I giggled and cried at the same time. I was being loved by people I didn’t know and probably would never have taken the time to meet. It was a blessed moment.

That began my process of healing the inner child and of learning to trust people, and of gaining a world of love.

Story to be continued...

Discovery One

Several, if not all, of my friends are struggling with past painful issues. I hurt for them. I've been where they are -- but it's been so long ago. After asking myself how I can help them in their journey of pain, an inspiration came to me this morning. Having walked that valley of pain, I can write about my discoveries and recoveries and share them here. Hopefully, my stories might provide a form of encouragement for someone who is walking that path of discovery.

So here it is, Discovery One:

It’s been several years since I made a significant breakthrough that began the process of changing my life. For many years, I used to say, “I don’t need people in my life.” Interesting thing to say, isn’t it? I never gave it a thought until that fateful day.

It was in the early 1980s when I discovered the wounded child. I was out for one of my daily walks and spotted a bookstore along my usual route. I hadn’t noticed the bookstore before, but being an avid reader I walked into the store to investigate. All the books and literature on display were about dysfunctional families and drug and alcohol addictions. The word “dysfunction” caught my attention. I heard that word while scanning for stations on my car radio just the day before and wondered what it meant. I found it fascinating that I’d been hooked by a word and I wanted to know more. Though I can't remember where I read this or who said it, the statement has much wisdom and definitely applied to me at that specific moment: “When the student is ready, the teacher will appear.” I think I reached the point of readiness that day.

As I flipped through the pages of several books in the bookstore I saw bits and pieces of myself in every book I opened. An undeniable pain began to surface. I fought the tears, got angry at them, tried to choke them back, and felt a dreadful anguish struggling to escape. It was a battle I thought I’d loose, but I’d been trained very well in holding back tears, so the only thing that escaped was a very distressed sob.

After that, I was composed and in control once again. But, what on earth was that anguish about?

Story to be continued….

More about Mountains and Valleys

I settled into the chair and took that first small sip from the warm cup of steaming aromatic tea. It comforted me as I gazed out the window of the little tea shop. Only minutes ago the sun illuminated the landscape, brightening the rain soaked places that sparkled in the sun. All too soon, however, the accumulation of rain clouds rolled across the sky and closed it up again and the earth darkened. I'm forever thankful for the sun-breaks that frequently happen during the day. They help brighten up the earth when the gloom gets too heavy.

This was a pensive morning. I had just left a friend who shared deep sorrow -- sorrow so deep that she was still wrapped in the raw pangs of it and unable to accept comfort. I thought about her shattered life and continued looking out the window with thoughts about sorrow and suffering. There is so much pain in the world. Everyone hurts. This, I suppose, is my day to think about pain and why it happens. Sorrow and suffering happens to everyone. There's no escaping it. It's part of life. It comes and it goes. It comes again, and it goes again -- like the ebb and flow of the ocean tide.

One thought, the thought that comforts me, is that pain and suffering is the only way our faith can grow. It's in the lowest valley of humility where we find God's comfort; it’s in the darkest shadow of the mountain where we experience His peace; and it’s in climbing the dusty journey up the mountain where we know His power and His strength. Grace comes as we completely surrender to God's will. It's in this time of submission that we are given His vision for that which we can become, and it's where we hear His voice as He guides us into becoming all that we can become in His design.

I've traveled with sorrow and suffering all of my life and I consider myself most blessed. You see, I've had many Son breaks during those dark days and I discovered that there is joy in the midst of suffering. I pray this joy for my friend -- frequent Son breaks as she heals. She will see that at the end of her journey there will be peace and she will look back and see how much she has grown.

The Foot of the Mountain From the Top of the Hill

As I stood at the foot of the mammoth mountain, watching my team mates ascend the steep rocky slope, my breath caught in my throat and every muscle in my body tightened. I questioned my ability to climb the mass of earth that soared before me. Doubt immobilized me in that single timeframe and in those speeding seconds my thoughts took me back to another chapter of my life where I stood at the foot of a different mountain.

Twelve stair steps were easy to climb, but during that episode of my life they soared above me like an impossible feat. An attempt to climb even one single step exhausted me to the point of collapse. It was the illness, the severely exacerbated asthma that robbed me of my life as I used to know and enjoy it. Because I trusted in the God of miracles I had refused to enter the plastic bubble that was prescribed for me in order to prolong my life. “One day,” I said to my doctor, “I will climb a mountain.” He considered the fact that I couldn’t even climb a single stair step but he accepted my decision.

In the months and years that followed that declaration of faith, I was blessed to be gifted by the measured return of all the things I had grown allergic to. I hugged a pine tree and wept as I took pleasure in its fragrance, burying my face within its still-tied-up branches while it stood in the narthex of our church at the start of the Christmas season. The following spring, I stood under a pale blue sky in the center of a large enclosed garden of roses and breathed in their sweet perfume while praising my Heavenly Father for His grace, His goodness, and His mercy. During the summer I traveled to the Pacific Ocean and sat on a sandy slope, delighting in the sights and smells of the sea and listening to the song of sea gulls soaring overhead. Fall brought winds that hurried multicolored leaves along the way as they danced in the breeze, bounced across lawns, and twirled down every walkway and street. As I walked along a path in a local park, a large flock of sparrows flew to the sky from behind me, soaring over me and ahead of me on both sides. The child's heart in me giggled with delight to be graced with the privilege of being a participant in this magnificent and glorious panorama of birds in flight. The world was new, fresh, exciting, and exhilarating! I’d been given the opportunity of rediscovering all the thing I'd been told were lost to me forever. Tears of joy fell each time God returned a gift once-lost. As I think on these things I’m reminded of a verse from Francis Thompson’s The Hound the of Heaven which says, “All which I took from thee, I did but take, not for thy harms, but just that thou might'st seek it in My arms...”

The illness and my weakness gave God the opportunity to demonstrate His power. He used all the things I had become allergic to as teaching tools to help me grow; and then He gave them back to me again one by one. My health had been restored. Now came the test of the mountain.





The year was 1999. I’d been selected as one of three artists from the US to travel to Bethlehem Palestine to paint the Millennium Mural for the year 2000. A gifted local artist joined our team when we arrived in Bethlehem. The photograph in this entry shows the four artists with selections of the mural that was painted on the BBC campus (click on the photo to enlarge it). Looking back, I find it absolutely illogical that I’d gone before the Lord three times, reminding him of the asthma. For several long years I had not traveled anywhere without the watchful accompaniment of a family member. Traveling alone was still an area that had not been tested. Each time I went before the Lord in prayer about traveling to a foreign land with a group of strangers who knew nothing of what had gone before in my struggle with asthma, His answer was always the same: “Trust Me.” I chose to trust, and in that splendid moment the burden of uncertainty suddenly released itself so powerfully that I felt like I was floating. In complete surrender to His will, my soul fastened tightly to The Shepherd’s leading as I traveled to Bethlehem Palestine to paint a mural inspired by Psalm 23 on a concrete wall that measured 102 feet in length by 22 feet high. We finished the mural in three and a half weeks and then went on tour of the Holy Land.

The mountain towered before me like a menacing monster and its path was dusty, rocky, and void of vegetation of any kind. It was August, the hottest time of the year, and there was nothing to provide shade or shelter during the climb. Years earlier I predicted that I would climb a mountain, and now the mountain presented itself as a testing of the authenticity of my faith. We were in ancient Jericho in the Judean Dessert. The mountain was several feet high – perhaps the length of a football field – maybe less. It was a simple hill, a mound of earth easily scaled, but to me it was a massive mound of dread, an impossible attainment, and a terror filled journey of gasping for every breath. My team mates were already ahead of me by a couple of yards but my feet felt like they had bonded with the rocky soil at the base of the hill. As I looked up the dusty path I heard my Lord’s voice in my heart reminding me of His instruction to trust Him. I thought about the hill he climbed for me two thousand years ago. He brought me to his birthplace to paint a mural in honor of his faithfulness, and he was ready to climb another hill with me. Apprehension released its powerful grip and I took that first step. During the ascent, as I placed one tiny baby step in front of another, not a single breath was labored and I reached the summit of that dusty mound refreshed and energized and with triumphant rejoicing for all that God had brought me through.

Turning around to see the path I had climbed, I saw that the foot of the mountain from the top of the hill was not so vast a distance after all. Below the hill, at the place where I hesitated in trembling and fear, grew a beautiful little plant with glossy leaves and tiny white blossoms. While looking at the mountain, I'd missed seeing it there. Discovering it's existence reminded me that in every circumstance of our lives, God leaves His incredible fingerprints of love. Too often, while focusing on the problem, we miss seeing the hope, the possible, and the glory that comes with victory. I saw an impossible dusty mountain in the dessert. God saw the possible and proved it.

“Many, O Lord my God, are the wonders you have done. The things you planned for us no one can recount to you; were I to speak and tell of them, they would be too many to declare.” Psalm 40:5

A Spring of Living Water In the Desert

Several years ago, when my husband's doctorate was nearing completion and his job search had begun, I told him I would go anywhere in the world with him -- with one exception: I would never live in the desert. I learned an important lesson about the word "never" after that.

Here came the test. An exceptional job offer presented itself in Lancaster California. That little city is located in the Mojave Desert. When my husband told me of the offer, I found myself having to trust God's wisdom. As I packed our belongings for a move to the desert I remember saying, "God must have a plan for us there."

Within a few weeks after moving to Lancaster, I became increasingly ill. Every breath was an exhausting effort. The diagnosis of asthma was made a few months later, but by then, the asthma was well out of control. Allergy tests confirmed that I was allergic to everything in the desert. Asthma weakened my system so much that I became severely allergic to every plant and flower, all trees and grasses, all fragrances - natural or man-made, and nearly all the foods I had once enjoyed. The wet earth after a rain was a very serious threat, and the atmosphere became deadly for me whenever the wind blew. Every attack was a life-threatening episode.

Because of highly sensitive lungs, my physician placed me in complete isolation. Fortunately, it was my allergy proofed home and not a hospital room where I had to remain secluded during a long and dreadful year. Visitation was strictly prohibited because of the threat of allergens or irritants that could be introduced into my protective shelter. The only two people allowed to enter my secluded area were my husband and our twelve-year-old daughter.

At first I had great difficulty finding God's plan for me through this illness and solitude. I was very active before my affliction with asthma and the confinement made me very angry. I was angry because I couldn't breathe, angry because my life as I wanted to live it had ended, and angry because I couldn't express emotions. The expressions of anger, or grief, or laughter, stressed my lungs to the point of triggering life-threatening bronchospasms. Having to suppress the expressions of grief or laughter just didn’t seem fair. Most of the time, I couldn't even speak above a whisper. Climbing stairs was such an effort that I couldn't climb more than one or two steps before collapsing in sheer exhaustion while gasping for my next breath.

Because of the severity of the illness I was forced to inactivity; and that stillness went against the nature I had grown accustomed to. I had to relearn and put into practice the disciple of quietness. It's a discipline I took take great delight in during my prayer life a couple of years prior. However, working multiple tasks in service to the church became my focus and kept me from spending time with God and time in His Word. My spirit eventually became very stale.

In the silence of my sterile and isolated world, I grew to depend completely on God. I’d forgotten what that felt like. It was marvelous! As I listened, He revealed more of His infinite love for me. In the midst of grief I found joy, in my weakness I was being strengthened, and where a multitude of questions abounded, I was given answers. I had become parched and I was being revived by a spring of Living Water. My spirit danced!

That became the year of rediscovery. At the end of that year my allergist informed me that I needed to be enclosed in a plastic bubble for the remainder of my life. He justified this prognosis by stating that the outside world had become deadly to me and I would never be able to live in it again. I thought about that for a moment and then I made my decision. I said no, affirming that God did not create me to live my life inside a plastic bubble and He was certainly not finished with me yet. My doctor's response warned that I would die without the assistance of the bubble as my protected environment; but I had great faith in The God of the Impossible and I declared with great boldness, "Watch me. Some day I will climb a mountain.”

God took me to that mountain a few years later. But that’s another story.

Faith In The Midst of Terror

I received the following plea from my friend, Paul on January 28th. Paul lives in the heart of Bethlehem Palestine. He is 22 and the youngest of five children. He was a member of our Salt and Light ministry team when we served as missionaries in Bethlehem and he is YWAM trained in discipleship. Paul is a young Palestinian Christian and has a ministry of music – working to create the first Christian praise band in all of Palestine. He and his brothers have developed the first Palestinian Christian outreach to young people -- right in the center of a Muslim community.

Having visited in his home often, we know Paul and his Christian family very well. Here is the account of Paul’s ordeal and his faith in action.

January 28, 2008 6:17 AM: I was going home from the Bible College and there were Israeli soldiers and lots of jeeps that prevented me to go in the way of my home. One person asked me to stay there for a while, until this attack finish so I am here now for almost 2 hours hearing shooting and bombs all over. I was trying to call home and there was no answer! Later, my mom called me and told me that many Israeli armed solders entered our home and they put all my family in one room and they took the whole house until they could destroy a house next to ours. At this moment one or more family will have no home in this very cold weather and we don't know when this thing going to finish. Please pray now and send this email to people you know to pray for this. I love you all. Let’s trust God for a miracle. Blessing, Paul

January 29, 2008 4:24 PM. Thank you all for your prayers. There is good and bad news too but thanks God for it all: The Israeli soldiers left after 7 hours of the attack from 2:00 PM to 9:00 PM. few cars were damaged on the roads. One person was killed, 3 families became homeless in this very cold weather, many believers were unified through praying together for the same thing, God heard all our prayers and did what is best, my family all safe but there was some damages in the house . God can use it all for His Glory. I will be sending you another full update about it all but please send this out too for the people who prayed with us, and please keep praying for comfort to the family of the guy that was killed. Bless You All. Paul

There are so many thoughts that race through my mind as I think back on these times. I can only catch a few of those thoughts right now, but maybe that’s a good thing. This missive would be too long otherwise.

We tried not to get involved in the political issues, but it was difficult not to have a personal opinion at least. We visited many Christians in many Palestinian cities who expressed an eagerness for peace, and listened as they spoke of forgiveness and healing. We listened to several Israeli soldiers and felt compassion as they shared their desire to be at peace with the Palestinians. Many of them didn’t want to serve in the army, but the choice was not theirs to make. All of them: Israelis and Palestinians, said that peace could happen one day, but they didn’t know how that would be accomplished.

While crossing the checkpoint into Bethlehem one evening, one of the soldiers expressed his wish to visit Bethlehem some day. There were tears of sadness in his eyes and a longing in his voice for an end to the violence. We will never forget that.

The economy in Palestine was so severe that many were out of work. I very vividly remember a young Muslim man, about 19 years old, who had been out of work for two years. He was asking for money to pay his bills, to buy food for his family, and to pay for a doctor’s visit. His eyes were firey red and painful looking. It was disturbing to look at them. He had an infection in his eyes and was desperately in need medical attention. Without medical attention, he would lose his vision in both eyes. He wept as he told me this. My heart broke.

I painfully remember when our Christian friend, a graduate student from the Bible College, was detained at a check point and verbally abused by an Israeli soldier who had control issues. Our friend had done nothing wrong. He was just there to escort his new wife back to their flat. We watched helplessly and our hearts broke as our friend stood silently in the midst of that terrible barrage of insults. After it was over, our friend said to his tormentor: "I forgive you."

Anguish griped my heart with a stranglehold that nearly took my breath away the first time I stood in front of the towering concrete separation wall that was being constructed around Bethlehem and the entire West Bank. I looked around and saw people standing silently with shoulders slumped in grief before this great wall. They knew they were seeing their prison walls. Faces bore the strain of hope long vanished as despair crept into their eyes and took up residence in their souls.

On the other side of the fence, whenever we’d journey into Jerusalem, Tel Aviv, and other cities in Israel, we witnessed another kind of imprisonment as armed security guards blocked the entrance to every business establishment. Some of the stores had metal fences surrounding the establishment with a security guard at the gate of the fence checking everyone with a metal detector and examining handbags. Memorials with flowers marked the charred places where suicide bombings had occurred.

Many innocent people on both sides are caught in a conflict they neither started nor wanted. It stirs up feelings of sadness and anger toward the injustice that continues there. However, God has not abandoned that place. Look again at at the forgiving heargt of my friend Paul and the efforts he makes to continue the work of Jesus Christ. There are many Palestinian Christians just like Paul whose faith-in-action are having a mighty impact for God’s Kingdom in a land that is thought to be forsaken. We only hear of the battle that continues to rage there, and we are subjected to images of the horrible violence in that land. Rarely, are we given information of the efforts for peace by Palestinian Christians who are living there. They have found opportunity for God's Kingdom purpose and have equipped themselves with love, mercy, and forgiveness in the midst of chaos and persecution. These are the heroe of our time in God's mighty army, clothed in His Armor.