Peace when under fire

Peace--vertical and horizontal. So often I have thought of peace as merely peace within myself, peace with myself, peace in me. While that peace is important and essential to being open to God's grace, it is a very narrow view of the peace God can and will give us. Peace vertically--being at peace with what God does and does not do in my life, peace with His plan for my life. Peace with God. Peace in my heart, peace that assures me He is in control, that He has me in His hand and his plan is perfect.

Horizontal peace, peace with others, with our situation, with the world, can only emanate frm my heart if I am at peace with my God; if I do not trust Him to provide and lead me and clear any obstacles, I will not have peace with the world around me. If I am worried and anxious about anything in my life, I must surrender to the peace I have with my creator to experience "peace that surpasses all understanding," a peace that calms my soul and tells me God has a plan. Now does that mean I never worry? That I never get upset? Heck no! I am human, I have doubts, I foolishly think I can control my life better than the One who gave me life.  I go to His word and rely on the promises in the Bible. Many who profess to be Christians do not yet possess that peace--they continue to depend on the world for solutions.

Election results, inflation, sickness, war, natural disasters, marital strife. I see it on the news, on social media, and in person every single day. One friend is terrified of what the current administration will mean for the safety of her childen's futures. Another friend is frantic about what the immigration crisis and newly formed policies mean for her family in Houston. Still others post memes celebrating their apparent victory in the past election, lauding the newly elected president as the solution to all the country's problems, while the opposite predicts all is lost and claims half the country are evil. Friends in India have familty members in northern India affected by ethnic wars and poverty. The ongoing strife in Gaza and Israel, the war in Ukraine, human trafficking in Asia and the US, genocide in Africa, childhood cancer, global unrest, starvation--the list is endless. All of these are evidence of a broken world, a fallen human race that rejected God in the garden, and nothing will fix it until Christ returns as He promised.

Yes, I too am affected by the brokenness of our world, by unfairness and strife and sickenss. I grieve the loss of my parents, the estrangement of my siblings and stepdaughter, the mental and physical burden of caring for my brother and the apparent lack of resources. But I continue to return to that peace, that wonderful peace that washes my worries away. I am sad for those friends of mine who do not possess this precious peace becaue they choose to reject God; they worry and fret and are frightened and angry at the things in the world, and they are incredulous at my lack of concern. I pray constantly for them to receive and accept Jesus and to receive the wonderful FREE gift (I know, that is redundant...a gift is free by definiton) of God's grace.  

Peace. Breathe. Peace. Rest. Peace. Trust. 

“Be still, and know that I am God. I will be exalted among the nations, I will be exalted in the earth!” (Psalm 46:10 ESV)

IDD and caregivers

While the majority of FaceBook posts lately seem to focus on political rants and memes and a general sense of "that's not fair", let me just take a little time to talk about what over one million households in the US deal with every single day, 24 hours a day. That is the number of households with an adult with IDD, and caregivers are normally aging parents or siblings.

(Quick definition: IDD stands for Intellectual and Developmental Disability; an intellectual disability is when limitations in mental abilities affect intelligence, learning and everyday life skills. The effects of this can vary widely. Some people may experience minor effects but still live independent lives. Others may have severe effects and need lifelong assistance and support.)

Our house is one of the households--when our parents died in 2018/2019, I became my IDD brother's guardian. Since January 2018, I have banged my head against a wall (several walls actually) trying to get support, help, assistance, respite, education...you name it. And despite all the pretty websites, links, brochures, and the multitude of agencies funded and commmissioned to do just that, I am, more often than not, on my own. There is no one-stop shop, no single point of contact, no real expert in obtaining even the simplest of services for my brother. Something as seemingly simple and basic as Depends required a multitude of forms, assessments, and phone calls for weeks--I gave up and just get them from Amazon's Subscribe and Save. The really important needs like housing, healthcare, respite for exhausted caregivers are so hard to obtain and have so many roadblocks that most of us just give up and lean on other equally overburdened caregivers.

The lives of me, my husband, and my brother were turned upside down and inside out seven years ago. At the age of 66, my brother had to leave everything familiar and move in with us. Suddenly we had to rearrange our schedules to ensure someone is with him all the time. We managed (barely) until COVID shut everything down and made everyone withdraw into their own little cocoons. It became too much for us, and with nowhere else to turn we tried assisted living facilities; I won't even tell you what a nightmare that was. By divine providence we were pointed towards a wonderful program in Henderson County and blessed with a family who took David in as part of theirs in 2021 for nearly four years.

But like everyone else, my brother got older, and with age came the familiar age-related issues: UTIs; skin tears; nutritional challenges; poor vision, hearing, balance, and flexibility; weakened immune system; and cognitive decline, and we knew it was time to move him back in with us, albeit temporarily. Two months ago I began (again) the search for options for my brother to have the quality of life he deserves, and for us to be able to have our own life and fulfill our God-designed purposes. Those same brick walls and seas of red tape are still there, but I will not give up, no matter how hopeless it may seem. I cry, I scream, and I stay awake most nights, praying for a solution, and the wisdom and discernment to see and implement it. Maybe that will happen soon. Perhaps it won't.

No I am not complaining or whining--I am raising my voice to advocate for families caring for IDD adults everywhere. We are fortunate. David is highly functional. He is verbal (sometimes too much so). He can dress himself (sort of), take care of his hygiene (to a point), and feed himself (even if he is messy). He is grumpy and funny and irritating and lovable. And most importantly, he is a child of God, fearfiully and wonderfully made. He deserves more. And I aim to get it for him.

Please, if you know a family struggling with caring for an IDD adult (even if it looks like they are not struggling, they are), gift them with 30 minutes or an hour of respite. Send them some Bojangles chicken for dinner. Pray for them. Listen to them talk about their day. Hug them. Fold their laundry. Anything that shows you care.

Here is a photo of David and me in Middletown, Ohio, in 1956/7.

When there is nowhere else to turn...

When you've called everyone you know, and there's nothing else you can do, when you've exhuasted all your resources, and you feel completely defeated and lost, where in the world can you go? Who can you turn to when the world is so dark and no one has any answers or even seems to care? When your house has been destroyed, when your child has cancer, when the bills outpace your ability to pay, when your loved one is in jail, when your church disappoints you, when your grown child no longer wants you in her life, when your family betrays you, when your health gives out, when you are in a hopelessly impossible situation with no way out...WHERE DO YOU GO? WHO DO YOU CALL? 

(and no, the answer is not Ghostbusters.) 

The answer is JESUS, friends. It is, was and always will be Jesus Christ, son of the living God.  He is the light of the world, the way, the truth, the Redeemer, our friend, our Savior, who will never leave nor forsake us. 

Yeah, you knew I was gonna say that, right? And we Christians are always so happy and carefree because we always, ALWAYS give our worries and our cares and our problems to Jesus. We never try to handle those seemingly impossible problems, or climb huge mountains without our Guide, and we never EVER think we are hopelessly stuck with nowhere else to go.  

Right. If you believe that, I'll give you a great deal on some farmland in Antartica.

I know my past sins are wiped clean by the death and resurrection of Jesus. 

I know my future lies in heaven. 

The problem? Like many (most?) believers, I trust my past and my future to Jesus Christ, but I often neglect to trust Him with my present in both good times and hard times. When life is good, when things are going smoothly like butter on a hot skillet, I forget who created me and everything around me. I chalk up my successes to my intelligence, my experiences, and oh yeah, to my wonderful walk with God, wonderful because of all the things I do--going to church, reading my Bible, writing in my journal. Oh yeah, I have the inside track on getting God to help me with my trials and tribulations. And when things are tough, when my life is falling apart, do I turn to God first? No. Again, because I am so intelligent, so creative, and such a real problem solver, I can figure it out myself. Until I can't. Then I turn to Him, ashamed, embarrassed to tell Him I failed, that I need His help. I picture God looking at me, shaking His head, sighing a big sigh, and saying, "C'mon, child, give me your hand, and all your problems and your joys, and I will carry them for you, and I won't ever scold you."  (yes, my paraphrase of Matthew 11:28-29). 

The past 15 months have tried my heart, brought me to the breaking point. Last October, my stepdaughter and her kids told me (while I was in the hospital) they wanted nothing to do with us anymore--I was suddenly the evil stepmom. Three months later, back in the hospital for routine surgery, I nearly died from "surgical complications" and ended up with chest tubes, a lengthy hospital stay, and months of recovery. My oldest daughter and her family are experiencing employment issues overseas, and my youngest daughter is facing a trial of monstrous proportions.  Sure there were happy times intermingled in there...beautiful daughters and granddaughters, taking one of them to fulfill her dream at Universal Studio's worlds of Harry Potter, visiting my oldest and her beauties in Malaysia, and being married to the best husband I could ask for. And just when I thought life couldn't hand me any more challenges, my mentally challenged 73-year old brother had to move back in with us--worsening cognitive decline. And although I have prayed and and prayed and was confident in my faith,  trusting God to help me figure this one out, I hit yet another brick wall of bureacratic red tape. Medicaid. Medicare. RHA. Vaya Health. NCDHHS. DSS. All dead ends. Today I went out to my car in the school parking lot and cried until there were no more tears. And I gave it all back to God...again, for the umpteenth time. 

He is always there, and although He would love to have us turn to Him first, He will always be there, when there is nowhere else to turn. 

Wrinkles

One of my favorite grandchild memories is when then 3-year old Isabella retrieved her play iron and put it on my face, announcing, "Nana, I'm going to iron out all your wrinkles!" Oh how I laughed (and secretly wished it were true.) But, the reality is that wrinkles are proof we've lived and felt and somehow survived the trials life has thrown at us. 

But what about the wrinkles we encounter in our daily lives? Those unexpected curve balls seemingly coming out of nowhere, zooming dangeroulsy close to us, threatening to knock us on our butt (and sometimes succeeding). Recently I asked for prayers to help me manage a new wrinkle in my life, one not totally unexpected, but a wrinkle nonetheless in my otherwise smooth, orderly life (go ahead an laugh). My brother, age 73 and completely dependent on others for everything, moved back into our home. I was certain I could handle it all, that I could smooth that wrinkle out in no time flat (pun intended). After two days I knew what a bunch of hogwash that was.

Despite my countless professions of faith in Christ, despite my identity as a daughter of God, redeemed by the One who took my sins and struggles on His shoulders, despite me KNOWING I do not control anything--in less that 12 hours I forgot who I am and who I am not. I cried, I shouted, I despaired, and foolishly I convinced myself I could handle it all. So I picked up my giant iron of pride and attacked that wrinkle with all my might, pushing, pressing, forcing it into submission, determined to make it smooth and perfect. When it wouldn't budge, I tried even harder, but like those stubborn clothes you iron only to have more wrinkles pop up somewhere else, or worse yet, creasing the wrinkle permanently, it was no use. So I gave up. It was hopeless. I was neither willing nor able to figure out how to manage what a week prior I was confident I could.  

Until I stopped pushing back, stopped trying to control the situation, stopped feeling guilty for being inadequate, and stopped beating myself up for not having perfect endurance. You see, like many Christians (probably all of us), I have a "large hole in the center of my Gospel," as Paul David Tripp wrote. We understand we received forgiveness (past), and are sure of our salvation (future), but we forget Jesus is in the here and now...in us...in the present.

Life is full of wrinkles, folks. Some can be smoothed out, but most of them are creased firmly into our history, proof of having lived; looking back, that wrinkled tapestry, though not perfectly smooth, is beautiful in its own way. And if I could impose on the reader to allow me one more reference to my "ironing" metaphor, that wrinkled, torn, frayed tapestry will be exchanged for new and perfect robes when we join God in heaven. So don't try to endure or control what life throws at you. Rest. Allow the perfect God to walk with us through this imperfect yet perfectly planned life.

Out of my distress I called on the Lord; the Lord answered me and set me free. (Psalm 118:5)

When trust is broken

“It is better to take refuge in the Lord than to trust in man. It is better to take refuge in the Lord than to trust in princes” (Psalm 118:8-9). 

"Let each of you not look only to his own interests but also to the interests of others." (Philippians 2:4) 

Countless verses instruct Christians to share their good fortune, help others in need, shine their light, and love one another...and to trust in the Lord with all their hearts. So how do I reconcile the two? We reach out and trust others to do something, build something, and be honest about something, but that trust is broken it is so easy to be hurt, bitter, resentful, and to feel foolish for being taken advantage of.  

We invest our time, love, energy, knowledge, and yes, money in our community in so many ways, helping others get on their feet, providing shelter for those who have no place to go, giving those in a new business venture a chance by hiring them, teaching and mentoring. In other words, reflecting Christ in all we do. And no we do not do these things for recognition, personal gain, or even appreciation; the joy is in the giving. But, we are human too. And when those we reached out to end up taking advantage of our generosity and no-strings-attached trust, it hurts. A lot. 

When people take our money and give nothing in return except for excuses and sad stories, I want to kick myself for trusting them. I feel stupid and used and foolish. When my husband trusts someone to do home repairs that he could do, but wants to give that guy a leg up, and months later we have nothing to show for it but less money in savings, I am angry. And he feels foolish. And sad. Used. Confused. I want to just give up on the human race. To not help anyone anymore. To just do it all myself and the heck with everyone's sad sack stories. To not give advice or share wisdom learned over nearly seven decades of my life. 

But that is where the trust in the Lord part comes in. I have to trust in God to make all things new and good for those who love Him. I must take refuge in the Lord when someone betrays my trust or does not follow through on their promises. Cast all my cares and anxieties on him, and believe that in the end what we do with a pure and clean heart will bring glory to God. Because when it comes right down to it, we don't do these things, help others, give of ourselves, or share our good fortune for any earthly awards, recognition, or honor. We do these things because we are of Christ and the Holy Spirit in us leads us to do good works. 

But I still feel discouraged and let down by my fellow man.

“You are the light of the world. A city set on a hill cannot be hidden. Nor do people light a lamp and put it under a basket, but on a stand, and it gives light to all in the house. In the same way, let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father who is in heaven." Matthew 5:14-16)

Easy to read, hard to put into practice. So many times when I do good works ostensibly for the glory of God I really want the light to shine on me, for people to appreciate me. Over the years, Alex and I have weathered serious financial setbacks by trusting others. But it is not about being recognized or repaid. We do what we do (at least try, anyway) to reflect Christ. And to help wherever we can.

Light dispels darkness.

Election Day

Election Day. A day I used to look forward to, excited to cast my vote as an American citizen, taking advantage of a rare and wonderful privilege: to be part of the process in choosing our country’s judicial, legislative, and executive leadership. Not just at the federal level, no, but at every level, down to the smallest county seat and school board. In previous elections I’d spend hours gathering ballot and platform information to make informed decisions about nominees and proposals. I would attend rallies, talk to friends, watch debates and programs, and of course pray. If i supported a candidate, I’d put a sign in the yard or a bumper sticker on my car. I may even have worn a campaign button. My parents and I would talk about issues, but no one ever got too upset or slammed anyone who had a different point of view. And we respected others’ opinions, and knew to never bring up money, politics, or religion in polite conversation. 

Now I dread Election Day,and all the days leading up to it. I used to think the NBA had the longest season. Or that Christmas started obscenely earlier than it should. But since 2012, election mania has pervasively infected every aspect of our daily lives far too prematurely, sometimes as early as two years before the expiration of the incumbent’s term  honestly, since 2016, I believe it has been nonstop. I’ve stopped watching the nightly national news, something I used to enjoy, because it is anything but news. I cringe when I overhear political comments as they are often laced with vitriol and untruths, and I sadly watch as our country has been torn in two, whether it is on social media, in a sports bar, in church, or at a restaurant. People are now labeled and judged solely based on who they vote for, as if that parameter describes every facet of a human being. The titles of respect for those in office, from a city mayor to our country’s President, are no longer seen as relevant. Or elected officials are called by their last name or worse yet, called derisive names as if we were in a school playground.  Nominees are dehumanized so thoroughly through media—YouTube, FaceBook, the major news outlets, their opponents—it has become commonplace to call them names, draw disgusting cartoons, or even attempt assassinations. And now, anyone who supports these nominees are of course seen as less than human as well. Oh how Screwtape must gloat!

I love my country. I love America. I respect the office of every elected official, but especially that of the President of the United States. How could I not? I am a veteran and the President is the military commander in chief. Democrat or Republican. But more importantly, I am Christian, and scripture instructs me to do so. Yes  I voted Republican, all the way. I voted for former President Trump. Not because I think he is perfect, not because I think Vice president Harris is evil or stupid, but because of my beliefs.  In four years we do it all over again. And again after that. But Jesus will always be the King. Whether you vote for Him or not.

“Let everyone be subject to the governing authorities, for there is no authority except that which God has established. The authorities that exist have been established by God.” (Roman’s 13:1)

But God...

Eleven days since Tropical Storm Helene made her unwelcome, dramatic entrance into Western North Carolina, causing catastrophic damage with rain, wind, and flooding not seen for over a thousand years, I remain overwhelmed with sadness by the sheer magnitude of it all. Whole towns gone, others barely touched; cadaver dogs amidst the mudslides, the seemingly random tragedies, bodies of pets, farm animals and people in the water, the mud and the wreckage; trees down, crushing homes and vehicles and people; power lines down everywhere, no WiFi, internet or cellular service; boil water advisories, schools closed, some indefinitely; a local Subaru dealership flooded with 5 feet of water; area substations under water, a million without power; horrors seen that can never be unseen;  communities sharing and visiting and giving instead of texting or facebooking; cash only, gas and food shortages, communities and people unreachable except by donkey; ironically, election signs still standing while houses float away

Thursday I dropped some supplies off at our church and met a young woman in the parking lot; she was carrying two large bags full of clothing to donate to disaster victims.  We chatted and I told her drop them off at the church taking clothing donations. We talked about loss, about being fortunate, about our love for WNC, and I thanked her for the clothes, mentioning they were for survivors of a town destroyed by a mudslide. That a friend of mine was working with cadaver dogs. She burst into tears and we held each other. But God…

Driving by a home with a tree crushing its roof I spied a young boy swinging in a wood swing, laughing, barefooted, blonde hair blowing, while two adults stood with their hands and arms limp at their sides, mouths open, staring at their ruined home.  But God…

While at our church aiding others pass out supplies and providing free hot meals to whoever showed up, I saw a man sitting alone at a table, eating his BBQ and fixins. I sat down across from him, asking if he minded if I joined him. He was kind and articulate but you could tell he’d had a hard life and was in a bad place.. But God…

People arriving for free hot meals, I greeted these strangers, these neighbors, hearing their stories. A grandma who drove an hour around roads blocked by power lines and trees, all to pick up supplies and a meal for her granddaughter, who lived downtown in a now flooded basement apartment. An 81-year old woman and her disabled husband just looking for some toilet paper and water.  A family with a little boy who had just been to urgent care for a burn and was screaming and inconsolable, overwhelmed with the strangeness of the past 10 days. Two older ladies holding hands and quietly eating their meals, thanking us profusely for a few basic supplies. All wanting to share their stories, all walking around with the same stunned, shell-shocked looks on their faces. But God…

 A young woman moved to Hickory to be near her fiancé; they bought their first home; planned their October wedding for months; wedding venue was underwater. Another couple, newlyweds who'd only a month earlier moved into the house of the bride's grandparents where she'd spent many happy years, the house she and her new husband fixed up and made their own, all of it gone in a flash. But God…

People lined up outside the grocery store waiting for their turn to go in and pick up a few essentials, cash only because the internet is down. Shelves nearly empty, ATMs not working, gas stations with yellow “out of order” plastic bags on the pump handles, an 8 o'clock curfew because roads are out and it’s dark. But God…

Neighbors using their own equipment and money to work 15-18 hour days with search and rescue operations, body recovery, debris removal, providing hot meals, clothing, basic supplies and compassion. Almost no help from our federal agencies. But God…

Schools closed, food ruined, water contaminated, and children’s worlds turned upside down. But God…

Pregnant women within 4 weeks of their due dates and families with newborns urged to leave WNC and go to South Carolina, hospitals crippled by lack of power, water, generators, and staffing. But God…

“But God…”. Those two words bring hope, and remind me that God is sovereign, that He controls the universe, and that He uses all circumstances to bring glory to His name. It is a powerful phrase assuring us God is sovereign, all powerful, just, and merciful. Look in the BIble and you will find this little two-word phrase any time the situation seems hopeless, from Noah (Gen 8:1), to Joseph (Gen 50:20), to King David (Ps 73:26), to Christ's crucifixion (Acts 13:30).

As we get through this tragedy, (through being the operative word, as opposed to being in, or being stuck) remember that God has done many things much harder. He is never surprised by what happens, or clueless about what to do, or ignorant of how we are hurting or feeling, or unaware of our needs. We will recover, rebuild, renew, and remember. We depend on God

“But God, being rich in mercy, because of the great love with which he loved us, even when we were dead in our trespasses, made us alive together with Christ—by grace you have been saved” (Ephesians 2:4-5)