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)