Tag: Christian living

Grieve Any Way You Want…

A year or so ago I went to visit a friend who had just lost her son. I felt like I was to share two things with her. One was private, just for her ears. The other was “We all grieve differently. You can grieve any way you want so long as you don’t sin.”

I saw her a few months later. She told me – with a grin – that I’d ruined grief for her. Everything she wanted to do was sin – yell at her husband, throw things, isolate, stop caring for her other children. We both laughed. I completely understood.

Then she thanked me. She said many times she’d stopped to think about how she was grieving. She had asked herself, “Am I choosing sin? Or am I glorifying God?” It was not always easy to do the next right thing, but she had tried to do just that. And in the choosing, she had begun to experience healing.

No, we do not choose this journey; no one would choose to experience the death of their child or other loved one. No one would choose cancer. No one would choose to lose a parent to Alzheimer’s. We don’t choose our trial, but we can choose how we will act while going through it.

We can choose to practice sin, to be slaves to sin. Or we can choose to behave in ways that glorify God and bring healing to ourselves and those around us. We can choose to rejoice in our suffering, knowing that suffering will bring about a hope that does not fail.

“Therefore, since we have been justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ. Through him we have also obtained access by faith into this grace in which we stand, and we rejoice in hope of the glory of God. Not only that, but we rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not put us to shame, because God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us.”

Romans 5:1-5

What If….

What if eating healthy food, getting off the couch, going outside, and moving a bit isn’t just about living longer?

What if God knew every one of your days before one of them came to be? What if He determines the number of your days?

What if self-care isn’t just about being more emotionally stable? What if learning and mental exercise isn’t just about being smarter?

What if we work to be physically, mentally, and emotionally healthy not so we can live longer but so we live better? So we can do good? So we can do what God has called us to do?

What if we choose to do things to be healthier so we can help others, feed the hungry, clothe the naked, and care for widows and orphans without feeling worn out, overwhelmed, and burnt out?

What if it’s not all about us? What if we are alive not serve ourselves but to serve others and to glorify God?

What if what the Lord your God asks of you is to fear the Lord your god by walking in all his ways, to love him, and to worship the Lord your God with all your heart and all your soul?

What if being physically, mentally, and emotionally healthier starts with being spiritually healthy?

What if being spiritually healthy helps us be mentally, physically, and emotionally healthier?

What if what is required of us really is to do justice, and to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your God?

Just my thoughts tonight.

Choosing to Trust, Even in the Valley

So. Yesterday I was reading Numbers. Aaron, Moses’s brother, climbed a mountain and died. I’m sure this is a sign that we should never climb mountains. Or even small hills. Just to be safe.

(Just a bit of humor for your day.)

Seriously, though. This got me to thinking.

Others often believe if they understand how our child died, they can do something to prevent their child from dying.

Most of us did the right things: we prayed, we taught them right from wrong, we took them for checkups, we made them wear seatbelts and bike helmets. Yet our children died. Nothing we did prevented their death.

We may never understand the WHY. We may never even know the HOW.

But we can know that God loves us. And He loves our children. We can trust Him, even as we walk through the Valley of the Shadow of Death.

Today I am choosing to trust Him as I do the next right thing.

There Was No Heartbeat

At ten weeks there was no heartbeat.

My doctor ordered an ultrasound. They found no baby. The baby whose heartbeat we had heard a week before was gone.

I was cramping and bleeding. Not enough to be life-threatening, but definitely uncomfortable and definitely something to monitor.

My doctor was slow to order a D&C in these cases, unlike many of his partners and unlike most doctors today.

Instead, he ordered blood work and an additional ultrasound. Internal this time. My hormones indicated pregnancy, but they could find no heartbeat and no baby.

Over the next couple of weeks I had four more ultrasounds. Still no heartbeat and no baby. “Not a viable pregnancy,” my medical records stated.

Then, at fourteen weeks, we heard a heartbeat! The ultrasound showed a perfect baby.

Andrew Raymond Duncan was born six months later.

I am grateful my doctor was pro-life. I’m grateful he was cautious regarding D&C procedures and believed they were often used too soon and possibly ended viable pregnancies. He believed God designed a women’s body to handle pregnancy and miscarriage. He believed we should wait and give my body time. He monitored my health carefully and waited. His caution kept us from killing my son.

I am pro-life.

And I am grateful I got to be Andrew’s mom for twenty plus years.

(There are cases where a D&C is medically necessary and life saving. In my case, it was not.)

Andrew was born on Christmas Eve 1992. He lived for more than twenty years. He brought joy and laughter everywhere he went. He died in The Accident which occurred on August 12, 2013.

Dear Musician Friends

Dear Musician friends,

I’ve heard many of you play. I’ve been to your performances. You are very talented.

You must practice often. I know you do. Sometimes you practice for an hour or more each day. Sometimes you practice alone, sometimes with a few other musicians.

Have you considered spending time one day each month playing at an assisted living? Maybe one day each month your practice time could be spent performing for a small audience of older people. Maybe you could play for those who cannot come to your performances. Older folks who love music but don’t get out much any more.

There are hundreds of seniors living in these communities even in a small town like Wichita Falls. Thousands in cities like Denver, Atlanta, Chicago, or Dallas.

The staff of these communities welcome folks to come and play or sing. Most facilities have lovely pianos waiting to be played. Or you can bring your cello, flute, guitar, violin, etc. You could simply sit and play for whomever listens. Soft music. Hymns. Broadway hits. Or oldies they know and may sing along.

Call Brookdale, Elmcroft, Rolling Meadows, Royal Estates, Presbyterian Manor, House of Hope, Texoma Christian Care Center, or Arbor House. Google “Assisted Living near me” to find facilities in your community. Ask to speak to their Executive Director or Activities Director.

Explain that you are a musician and would like to come play for an hour. Nothing fancy. Just you and your instrument. Or maybe you and a few friends and your instruments. Have a list of dates and times you are available. (2:00 or 3:00 in the afternoon is a great time as it rarely interferes with meals and other activities.)

Some have weekly hymn singings or music happy hour. Others schedule performances when volunteers are available. Are you willing to be available?

These people love musicians. They love music. They love art. And they love visitors.

Thank you for sharing your music.

Sincerely,

Someone whose loved one lives in an Assisted Living and who loves music

#careforwidowsandorphans
#notjustduringholidays
#musicallyear

He Is Right. Again.

In the past couple of days I’ve received phone calls, messages, and texts from half a dozen women who need comfort, help, or love. Some of them I hadn’t heard from in months or years. I like them all. They are wonderful ladies.

Here is a conversation between my husband and me:

Me: It’s like God is doing something. Like he wants me to love and care about these women. But I suck at that.

Ron: Maybe God isn’t satisfied with you sucking at that.

Me, looking very dejected: Yuck! When God isn’t satisfied with me sucking at things, it’s usually painful.

Ron: It’s less painful depending on your obedience.

Me: Thanks, honey. You’re so helpful.

He was right. I know he’s right. Again. And sometimes I hate when he is right. I don’t like when I’m wrong and he’s right, but most times I’m grateful to have this man in my life.

My husband speaks truth to me, gently calls me on things when I’m wrong, and encourages me to let the Holy Spirit change me as I do the next right thing.

I am loved. I am grateful.

And in case you are wondering, yes, I do the same for him.

Breathing Treatments. And Practical Love.

Day four of breathing treatments.

I don’t have asthma, but since a short bout with pneumonia ten years ago, when I get a respiratory infection I need breathing treatments. It rarely happens, but when I do get this kind of sick, it can be scary.

I have one now. I’ve had it since Sunday night. And yes, I’m on antibiotics and steroids.

Christmas morning started with a breathing treatment. The week has consisted of spending time with kids while trying to manage being ill and cheerful. Thankfully my kids are old enough to help cook Christmas dinner.

Each time I deal with respiratory illness and breathing treatments I think of my friends with babies who have to do this. And I pray.

Why do I pray?

Let me tell you about using a nebulizer to deliver albulteral to my lungs so I can breathe.

In the hour leading up to treatment time, my breathing becomes labored. It can be terrible to not be able to breath. My breath become raspy. It’s an ugly sound.

I have to set up the machine, preferably in a place where the noise won’t wake up those who are still sleeping. I attach the tubing and pour in the meds. Then I sit, taking deep breaths of meds. More steroids.

Each treatment takes 20-30 minutes. By the end of a treatment my whole body is shaking. My heart is racing.

My lungs open up and my body tries to rid itself of the infection. I cough a lot, sometimes to the point of vomiting.

I continue to shake. The shaking lasts for more than an hour. I am filled with a sense of anxiety and hyperactivity.

The steroids cause me to be constantly hungry. I want to eat everything I see.

The whole thing is uncomfortable but necessary if I want to breathe.

My point: I am a 56-year-old woman with the understanding of what’s going on and enough self control not to act on these feelings of anxiety, fear, hyperactivity, and constant hunger. I do give into the hunger at times, but I can manage my medications and give myself breathing treatments while everyone else sleeps. I take my meds as directed without help or throwing a fit.

So what does this have to do with praying?

Babies don’t. They can’t. Sick babies need an adult to help them take meds and do breathing treatments. They can’t do this on their own. They don’t understand why they can’t breathe or that the loud machine will help them. All they know is they don’t feel right.

Imagine what it’s like to be young mom who has a very sick two-year-old. A baby who can’t breathe without these kinds of breathing treatments. A baby who is acting out because they are sick and can’t breathe.

Imagine having a two-year-old needing these breathing treatments every two to four hours around the clock.

Imagine being a mom in the middle of the night trying to get your two-year-old to sit still long enough to breath in the meds while you wonder if this time he’ll end up in the hospital again.

Imagine having your child cough to the point of vomiting. You know the coughing is good as it gets the junk out of their lungs, but your child cries so hard while coughing you wonder how he can breathe. And then you have vomit to clean up.

And then imagine dealing with that same sick child for an hour after each treatment. Trying to help him calm down and get back to sleep.

Imagine how little sleep you and your child get each night. And imagine trying function the next day. Caring for other children. Caring for your sick child. Trying to be a kind human despite sleep deprivation and the fears that come with a sick child.

Then imagine being that same mom and having an older mom call to tell you she heard your baby is sick and she’s been praying for you both.

Imagine having her offer to bring a meal or to pick up your family’s dirty laundry to wash and fold and return by dinner. With dinner.

Imagine she offers to come play with the babies while their exhausted momma takes a nap.

Imagine she offers to pick up your order at Walmart or your child’s prescriptions at the pharmacy.

Or perhaps she offers to simply listen as you cry and spill your heart to her over the phone, knowing what you share is for her ears only.

Imagine the feeling of love that you, a young, exhausted mom, have knowing you’re not alone in this parenting thing. This older woman has offered to walk alongside you and help you.

Perhaps this winter, when we see posts by tired mommas with sick babies, we can do more than scroll by.

We can pray.

And we can offer practical help.

Perhaps we can love them and their babies by offering to wash some dishes.

His Will Be Done

The past few weeks I’ve wanted vengeance.

I confessed my weaknesses and need for help.

Friends prayed. One rebuked me (in love).

My attitude changed. Not by my will, but, I’m sure, because of friends who love me.

Now I want to be a minister of reconciliation. This is what I wanted at the beginning of this journey. I believe it’s what God wants.

I’m at peace with His will be done.

Thankful

The Accident happened on August 12, 2013. My son was dead.

For months I grieved. I wept. I sobbed. I cried out to God. My life had changed forever in one moment.

For ten months I got depressed beginning around the tenth. I dreaded the twelfth. Then, in July 2014, I decided to do things differently. I decided to do the next right thing: I chose gratitude. I began writing a list of Twelve Things I’m Grateful for on the 12th. That first month it was hard to come up with twelve things. But I did it. And I did it again the next month and the next and the next. For four years I wrote a list each month. Choosing gratitude helped me find healing.

Last summer I faced a new challenge, one I cannot yet say much about. I can say that someone I love very much was harmed and I was thrust in the middle of a very difficult situation. I’ve spent many days next to a hospital bed and many hours alone in hotel rooms. I’ve driven a dozen times to and from a state ten hours away. I’ve dealt with lawyers and investigators and a magistrate. I’ve spoken with caregivers and doctors and therapists. I’ve missed events with my family in Texas. I had to stop my Monday night study group.

And I stopped writing.

I stopped writing on my blog. I stopped writing out my Bible Studies. I stopped writing my gratitude lists.

A few weeks ago, in a support group for Christians who are caregivers, one gal wrote of her mother’s death. She’d been writing about her sweet mom for months as they faced her death. This woman’s faith amazed me! In the midst of very hard things she kept her focus on eternal things. After her mom’s passing, she wrote of all the things she was grateful for in her mom’s last days.

Her list reminded me that making lists of things I’m grateful for helped me through grief. Perhaps it would help me through this trial.

And so, today I am choosing to be grateful.

In the middle of some very hard things, I am grateful.

This list is not easy to write. My heart is breaking for a young woman who did not choose life. I’m hurting for a young man whose wife chose to leave and go back to her old life. I’m hurting for a family in conflict. I’m hurting for a family whose son is in jail. I’m hurting over the things I’ve been accused of by others who do not know me. I’m hurting for one I love who was treated poorly.

I’m hurting.

But I choose gratitude.

  1. I am grateful for my husband who supports me as I walk through this trial.
  2. I am grateful for a safe vehicle in which I drive through mountain passes.
  3. I am grateful for forgiveness for all who repent. Forgiveness for even horrible things. I am grateful for the forgiveness I have received and forgiveness I must offer others.
  4. I am grateful for understanding and kind lawyers who are very good at their job.
  5. I am grateful for caregivers – nurses, CNAs, therapists, and so many more.
  6. I am grateful for reconciliation and having a wonderful relationship with some very special young men and women.
  7. I am grateful for AirB&B hosts who are kind and welcoming.
  8. I am grateful for a church body who welcomed me on Wednesday evenings this summer without expecting anything in return for their kindnesses.
  9. I am grateful for friends who know what’s going on and who pray.
  10. I am grateful for my adult kids who call and text regularly.
  11. I am grateful for plane tickets to see my youngest next weekend in SLC.
  12. I am grateful for the love of Christ and the healing available to me even as I grieve and hurt and walk through hard things.

What are you grateful for today?

Fighting a Battle

I’ve been in a battle since early July. On the outside it looks like a simple legal battle, but it is really much more.

I am battling with people over something very important; the outcome of the battle will affect me and others I care about for many years. There is no winning in this battle, but there has already been great loss.

I didn’t want this fight; I didn’t ask for it. Others made choices. Now I must fight for one who cannot fight for themself, one who trusts me to fight for them.

Though I am battling with people in this matter, God keeps reminding me my true enemies are never people.

People are made in His image. He loves people so much that He sent His Son to die for our sins, not just yours and mine but for those of the whole world, even those people on the other side of our private battles.

This may look as if I’m at war with people; however, I war not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world, and against the spiritual forces of evil in heavenly realms. (Eph 6:12)

I wish it could have turned out differently. I wish they knew a different way to behave. I wish they would have chosen a different path months and years ago. If they had, we would not be in this place. But they made choices, and choices have consequences, so here we are.

I have been called to protect one who cannot protect themself. So I will fight. I will fight with everything in me. I will sacrifice, and I will not give up because God put me in this fight.

Yet, I have this strange compassion for the people on the other side. I do not hate them for what they have done; they don’t yet know a better way. I pray for them. My husband and I pray for them. I grieve for them and those they have harmed. Their behavior makes me sad. They are losing something they dearly wanted. Something that was never theirs to begin with. Something they were entrusted with yet did not cherish. Something precious to me and to God.

I suppose my point is that in the midst of this battle I must remember truth. I must remember I have been bought with a price. I am not my own and did not deserve the grace shown me by Christ.

And so, I will not rejoice over the pain of others. I will not celebrate a victory when others are hurting. I will try, with God’s help, to overcome evil, not with evil, but with good – with love, kindness, compassion, and healthy boundaries. And I will seek God for wisdom and discernment, patience and peace, grace and mercy as I fight the battle He has called me to fight.

And I pray that some day all those involved may seek forgiveness and be reconciled as brothers and sisters in Christ.

May God be glorified in me through this battle.

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