This is a haiku I wrote for a college class. Excuse the subject matter. It’s a beautiful sunny day here and I just came inside from harvesting flowers, tomatoes and peppers from our garden.
In the process of cleaning out some files, I found a folder of my writings from Creative Writing class in college:
Snowfall
Bits of white sky fall
Snow dances to cold music
Quickens to find rest
1984
One of the basic tenets of improv comedy is known as “Yes, and…” It’s a protocol that allows for anything to happen, and it goes like this: No matter what your fellow actors present to you, instead of negating it, belittling it, or disagreeing with it, your job is to say, “Yes, and…” Accept the scenario as it’s presented to you (regardless of where you wanted it to go), and then to add to it. Volley back with something your fellow players can respond to. Most of us say “No” a lot. We have to. Our energy is limited. In order to get things done, we have to be choosy about how best to utilize our time. (Learning to say “No” is the #9 key to productivity after all.) But, after the class, I became curious about what would happen if I applied “Yes, and…” to everything. How would it change my work? How would it change my relationships? Here’s what I learned: Letting go means less ego. In meetings and team scenarios, we naturally want to hoard control. We care about being right. We think that saying “No” to others gives our own opinions weight. The practice of saying “Yes, and…” inserted a bit of distance between my brain and my ego, and helped me hear other perspectives with openness. Openness yields unintended and positive returns. This type of open, positive approach to disagreement or conflict is a catalyst. It’s amazing how people respond when you listen and give their opinions credence. It’s a softening mechanism. It’s such an easy thing to do, with big and unintended returns.
Scott McDowell
One of my meditations this morning was from The Westminster Collection of Christian Meditations, assembled by Hannah Ward and Jennifer Wild. It was an excerpt by Neville Ward from his book Five for Sorrow, Ten For Joy.
“Acceptance is not resignation, which is a dead end in the sense that it has no life about it and nothing comes from it. Christian acceptance is a beginning. It is the taking up of a position preliminary to action, and the best possible position, since it is the concurring of the will with things as they are at the moment preparatory to attempting to find what God wants us to do with the situation. The concurring of the will means that the mind will be free, not tightly organized by resentment or fear but able to put the whole of itself into the fight or the work, able to use what it has already learned about life, and adaptable too, open to guidance, ready to change habitual attitudes that will not work this time, as it feels its way to discernment of the right course.”
That’s pretty dense writing. It took a few times through for me to really understand what he was saying. I especially love the phrase”not tightly organized by fear or resentment.” How beautifully written!
My point in tying these two things together is that we are presented with life as it is, not as we planned it or wish it were. Everyone is; this isn’t just reserved for those in the brain damage community. So what do we do next? That’s the constant question, no matter what the injury or situation. What now? What do I do, and how the heck do I do it?
The only thing I know to do is hold on to God. Especially in His role as sustainer of everything. When I had nothing…I could do absolutely nothing….He held me closely. He sang over me. My needs were tenderly taken care of by so many people He sent. So how do I respond? What do I do now? Whatever, no matter how small, that helps His people. In doing this, I find my healing. I haven’t been given a clear direction, one central thing to do. Just to flourish, and help bring flourishing.
I was handed a situation. A different existence. So….what now? Because my reflexes and responses are anything but quick now, I studied it. I prayed. I mourned. I waited. And the healing and hope started. I could see the next step, although not anything past that. So I started moving, very tentatively at first. Then with a little more clarity. And I’m still moving on this path, awed by the beauty around me. Every day I see more and more things to be grateful for. You, my friends, figure very prominently in that.
YES, AND…..
We are capable of so much more than we believe. We can do the hard things. Even though we don’t want to.
We want to define for ourselves what so much more will be. I do. You do. We all do. If it doesn’t meet our expectations we feel angry/sad/dejected. We don’t like it.
Someone once said “stress comes when there is a gap between your expectations and what you actually get.” That’s worth pondering. But don’t forget there’s God in every equation, and He’s the eternal wild card.
God doesn’t promise deliverance from our struggles. He tells us that He’s with us in the darkest places, and will help us. Sometimes it’s only in the darkest of places that we start to trust Him truly. And He is strong. Faithful. Constant. Calm. He’s not upset with you, or scared for you. He’s not angry with you.
Our oldest daughter and her husband, up in the beautiful Hudson Valley of NY state, are buying their first house right now. Their closing is scheduled for Friday afternoon after months and months of struggle. She is also due with their first baby on December 29. They’re just running steadily for the prizes right now, and thankful for all their blessings. It’s a beautiful thing to share.
We were laughing on the phone a few days ago that compared with Mary and Joseph, right now they are practically living in the lap of luxury. At least they have their small apartment if all else fails them, and they aren’t making a long journey on foot, or on a donkey’s back (I have always felt a stab of compassion and gratitude for that poor donkey.)
Unto us a child is born. Unto us. For us. Messy old us. A baby, born in the harshest of circumstances and destined to die in harsher ones. What an amazing thought. Impossible to comprehend, or to feel worthy of such a gift. And yet, we are. In His eyes we are worth everything. God made you on purpose, for a purpose. You’re not an accident. Not a mistake. You are His much-wanted kids.
Merry Christmas to you all. Whatever you believe or don’t believe, we could all use a little hope. And joy. And love. And….some peace. Actually, a bucketload of peace would be very welcome.
See that star at the beginning? He cared enough to come to a pretty terrible place, as that most vulnerable of beings, and manipulate the heavens to point it out for each of us. He would still have done all that just for you. Or me.
That’s pretty cool, don’t you think?
The first two lines of Psalm 23, KJV
1{A Psalm of David.} The LORD is my shepherd; I shall not want.
2He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters.
It was quite a while after my brain injury before I even regained these two lines; first there was blank nothingness. Then the long period where brief flashes of thoughts slid quickly across then disappeared again. Just like waking into an abstract painting.
After some weeks, things started surfacing again and staying with me. As a child at summer church camp, we had spent lots of time memorizing scripture. The first two lines of Psalm 23 came drifting back: “The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want.”
When I came home from On With Life, I had been encouraged to do yoga. At that time, I had very little use of my right side limbs; couldn’t climb stairs by myself or come down again. I had a very difficult time dressing myself, taking my clothes off again, getting in and out of the shower, let alone doing something crazy like sitting on the floor! And my thinking….where had my brain gone?
I had nothing to lose, and a lot to gain back. Plus….I had to fill all this time now with something. I had done a smattering of yoga before, but wasn’t at all familiar with how it was really done.
At first I could only do a small bit of the “yoga for beginner” online. I would stay in child’s pose for hours, just listening to our wind chimes outside, with those words “the Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want” looping endlessly through my head.
And that resonated with me. Boy oh boy, did that resonate!
I wanted. I WANTED!! With every quivering fiber of my body I WANTED!!!
I was terrified for our financial future. I wanted my music back, my life back. I wanted for people to respect my opinions and listen to me again. I wanted to drive, to run, to get down on the floor like everyone else, to walk normally, to play piano, to sing, to read, to teach, to be able to brush my damned teeth, get a drink for myself, or just go to the bathroom without it being a major event. I wanted to be warm again, to not be suffering so many pains. I wanted my lower right leg to stop hurting all the time, and to at least be able to tell hot from cold! I wanted people to not treat me like an idiot. Or at least not to talk slowly and distinctly to me, even raising their voices slightly sometimes. Brain-damaged. It was like a beacon always over my head. I was in pain, deeply ashamed, and feeling worthless and unseen.
I wanted to understand directions, and math, and written music, and be able to tell left from right. I was so bad, I didn’t even understand what I was wanting all the time, I just knew—KNEW–it wasn’t this.
Most of all, I felt so useless. Of no possible value to anyone in the world.
I was the very definition of “want.” Any good dictionary under “want” would have had my picture.
Fast forward to now (wouldn’t it be super if we could just do that?). Years have passed, increasingly good ones. God brings healing through time. I wish, I SO wish, that there was a shortcut from “there” to “here”! That we didn’t have to wake up every morning and just keep slogging through things, hoping for a better future. But……in all my looking I haven’t found a shortcut yet.
So, day by day, week by week, month by month, and then year after year hope came stealing slowly back. God began putting all my parts together again.
Sometimes I feel just like Red Riding Hood in Into The Woods (one of my all-time musicals that I’ve ever played for!) when she sings…
“I know things now, many valuable things That I hadn’t known before.”
The timing of this writing is after I’ve just met another polite refusal in my attempts to find somewhere I can be of use. As a volunteer, I mean.
There seems like a whole world of need out there, and our money is always welcome everywhere. But it seems I myself am not needed. So that’s difficult. Really, really tough. I always wish God’s time was MY time. I get it, I think. After all, what sort of a volunteer would I really make, having to help on a regular schedule? I’m not thinking I could be counted on for much. But weeks like this, when I have a stretch that’s weeks long with just the occasional grocery store runs and Sunday worship, when I go days with only seeing my husband’s lovely face, I start wanting more. Uh-oh. There’s that wanting again.
For times like this, the King James wording of “I shall not want.” is the best, because “want” can be both an action or a state of being. Not only do we have everything we need, in other words, we shall not want anything else.
It would be nice to have a regular, social thing that I could get dressed up for, talk to people, get out a little while doing something useful. Not just being dropped off at a store, where I see lots of stuff that I wasn’t wanting before, and suddenly just have to buy. Just a bigger “purpose”, God!
But then
“The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want; he makes me to lie down in green pastures; He lead me beside still waters; He restores my soul.”
And truthfully, I don’t know how much more He could possibly do to show me the my “purpose” now is to help everything in my little realm flourish and blossom. I just sometimes want more. Isn’t that totally human? Look at the garden of Eden story….After all, I live in a beautiful garden with my “daily bread” more than provided for! What more do I think I need? What a very annoying sheep I would be, I’m afraid.
So after the calls were finished, and I had again been very politely told “no,”and hung up the phone, after I finished yelling and crying, I got to work again. As I was pulling our trash out for collection, I saw several violets blooming in the grass. Which caused me to reflect that it’s so crazy cool that we’ve had enough little rains lately that it sparked their re-blooming! So THAT caused me to look for some pictures of violets that I took earlier this spring, which led me next into noticing all the wonderful things that have happened in our yard this year.
The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want. He makes me lie down in green pastures, He leads me besides still waters. He restores my soul; He leads me in the paths of righteousness for His Name’s sake. Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death I will fear no evil for You are near me. Your rod and staff they comfort me. You prepare a table before me in the midst of my enemies; You anoint my head with oil; my cup overflows. Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life, and I will dwell in the House of the Lord forever.
Just look at all the green grass and still waters. And lots more besides.
Hey everyone. I usually try to steer clear of the very divisive issues, and instead focus on the things that unite us. I will not wade into this debate, and I will keep my own personal thoughts close, because no one’s mind was ever changed by being bettered in an argument, and I believe this is theological quicksand that would be best served if I did not step out into it. I will just say I stand for love in all our ways, but this is one of those issues where “acting in love” has not been very simple for me to see what I should do or how I should act. So I was relieved to read this last week, and wanted to share it with all of you.
Our church sends out a weekly email, usually written by our head pastor, Mike Householder. His words were both healing for this gaping wound and an encouragement to action.
I will add though, that being mostly powerless, how I “behave in love” IS simple for me almost all of the time. It was just the strong emotions that this issue engenders that was causing me to waver. All I can really control are my own actions, so that I try to be consistent with for everyone around me. And to help, in my own small way, in healing the wounds that are inflicted by life every day.
Dear Hope Family,
What unites us? Is agreement on important social, political, and legal issues – like abortion – essential for unity?
The world frequently says “yes.” God and the Lutheran confessions say “no.”
“Above all, clothe yourselves with love, which binds us all together in perfect harmony.”
Colossians 3:14
“It is enough (satis est) for true unity of the church that the gospel is preached … according to God’s word.”
Article 7, Augsburg Confession
At Hope, we are united in Christ with the good news of his everlasting love for us (gospel) and through us (mission).
We exist as a church to make disciples and share the eternal life-saving power of Jesus’ love with the world, not to minimize or set aside Christian mission for those who lead with a political agenda (which distracts and divides a church family). God hates seven things, according to Proverbs 6, including “a person who sows discord in a family.”
Jesus calls his church to be more mission-based (Matt. 28:18) than issues-based (John 18:36) – not right wing or left wing, but for the whole bird. While Christians are citizens of countries, even more we are citizens of an eternal kingdom of heaven. If worldly politics, and taking stands on issues, become the main source of our Christian identity, we push people away from hearing the gospel, the price is too high, and we’ve created a false idol.
That’s not to say worldly issues are unimportant, or that faithful churches should remain silent. We have a biblical responsibility to speak God’s prophetic word to the world on the important justice issues of our day, including abortion. But let’s strive to do so with grace and humility, in alignment with the depth and fullness of God’s word rather than parroting political talking points. Let’s be “quick to listen and slow to speak” (James 1:19) and speak our “truth in love” (Ephesians 4:15). There’s nothing bold or courageous about churches sounding like the rest of the world, trying to win political points instead of trying to win souls for Jesus.
What, then, is God’s prophetic word for our world on abortion? While the Bible never mentions the word “abortion,” there’s a clear biblical ethic that values both women and the unborn, not just one or the other.
Scripture consistently lifts up the sanctity of human life, from womb to tomb. We are made “in the image of God” (Genesis 1:26-28, 9:5-6, James 3:9), with the breath of God’s Spirit in us (Genesis 2:7), knit together and known by God while still in the womb (Psalm 139:13-14, Jeremiah 1:5). The wisdom of Proverbs speaks against taking innocent life (6:17) and charges the faithful to speak for those who cannot speak (31:8). In all our abortion debates, the only group without a voice is the unborn.
In a polarized world like ours, a false dichotomy develops and demands all must choose between support for the unborn or support for women. What if God wants his church to support both?
Jesus countered the misogynistic culture of his day by including women in his group of disciples (Luke 8:1-3), openly invited a woman (to the shock of his own disciples) into his kingdom while she was living with a man and had been married five times previously (John 4:7-30), and stood up for a woman accused of adultery by dismissing her self-righteous religious accusers publicly before calling her to repent privately (John 8:1-11). Not once in the gospels does Christ publicly disparage a woman for sexual immorality. Neither should the body of Christ. Let’s follow our Savior’s lead, refraining from condescending statements that oversimplify the debate and shame women for getting pregnant.
Roughly 1 in 4 women have had an abortion. 4 of 10 who’ve had abortions attend church regularly. 6 of 10 say the main reason they chose to have an abortion was pressure from the father of the baby. 7 of 10 say it’s the hardest decision they ever made. Some of these women (and occasionally men) come to me as a pastor seeking counsel. Sometimes they come because they want to talk about giving up their baby for adoption. Sometimes they come because they were raped. Sometimes they come because they’re in their early teens and scared to death. Sometimes they’ve been told by doctors that either the mother’s life or the baby’s life is in grave danger with this pregnancy. Many times, they (and I) are frustrated because they don’t have more and better options that lead to life.
Last Friday, the United States Supreme Court decided to overrule Roe and give authority to restrict abortions to “the people and their elected representatives.” Many rejoiced. Many cried. One study I read claims this decision will reduce abortions by 10-12%. Legal decisions alone, then, won’t end abortions.
Is the church missing an opportunity? There are still hundreds of millions of Christians in this country. What if we talked (and fought) a little less about abortion, and took a lot more action, working together to offer better options that lead to a better life for both women and the unborn?
At Hope, we launched and continue to offer generous support for a ministry called Ruth Harbor, funding the renovation of two large homes in the Des Moines area to house, care, counsel, and support women (often teens) facing unplanned pregnancies. We also partner in mission with the Agape Pregnancy Center, Garden Gate Ranch, and Single Parent Provision, all of whom offer a Christ-centered and Bible-based approach by making a positive difference for both women and the unborn. If you really want to know where a church stands on abortion, pay more attention to actions than words. Talk can be cheap. Actions reveal the true heart of a church.
What if Christians stopped shaming women, particularly those who aren’t married, for getting pregnant? What if the church made a commitment to compete for the hearts of millions of teens in our congregations, teaching them to grow in faith as they claim their truest identity as children of God, made in his image, and called to grow into faithful and responsible young adults? What if we worked together to offer even more support for anyone facing an unintended pregnancy?
Any church that truly cares for the unborn (count us in) will also truly care for women (count us in). Can any church really do both? Can we carry out our mission, keeping our eyes focused on Jesus, and our hearts filled with his love that creates life, saves souls, and holds us together as one?
Our divided world says “no.” Our God says “yes.”
Let’s go with God.
Peace,
Mike Housholder
This is an article I just submitted to a brain-injury community publication, and I wanted to try it out here first. I apologize in advance for some of the material that is cribbed from previous posts, and for the reiteration of my story. It was necessary in the writing of the article for an audience that is not familiar with me. Thanks very much!
Reflections On My Journey
It’s been seven and a half years since I began the journey I call “Natalie 2.0.” It started one night in September as I drove to my school for an evening musical rehearsal. Back then I was the high school vocal music director at a near-by school district.
As I neared an intersection, a driver in a truck raced through a stop sign and hit my car in the passenger door. People living nearby called 911 and ran to the scene. Finding my phone flung out on the grass, they called my husband and told him the news..
A policewoman arrived at the scene first, and climbed in my broken back window to support my neck until emergency crews could get there. She literally saved my life.
I almost died of internal bleeding in the ambulance on the way to the hospital. After several surgeries I stayed in the deepest level of coma for about 6 weeks. Then I started slowly traveling through each level of coma recovery, remaining in some of the more distressing ones for way too long. Eventually I was moved out of ICU to a regular ward. After I began showing signs of consciousness, we finally got insurance approval…..I know everyone reading is all too familiar with that concept…and I was moved to On With Life brain injury rehabilitation facility in Ankeny, IA. I went through months of inpatient therapy and was finally allowed to return home with my husband as my primary caregiver. Our adult daughter and son also took turns living with us for the first two years, and drove me to outpatient therapy sessions..
No one could have predicted my journey. For a few years, it seemed that we were just lurching from crisis to crisis. Then came the leveling-out years when somber reality started settling in. It seemed to me that there were no more big triumphs, just minor improvements followed by major disappointments. Although my health had stabilized somewhat, this was a turbulent time for my psyche.
I had a strong conviction that since I had survived such a cataclysmic event, something huge should come out of it. I would write a book! Become a speaker! Something!!
I started running headlong at my goals, expecting every obstacle to somehow give way to my committed assault. They wouldn’t. Over and over again, I had to regroup, wounded and disillusioned, to plan my next move.
This was an extremely rough phase. Emotionally I was very fragile and frequently distraught. Then one day the thought came into my mind “Am I making everything worse than it really is?” Was any of my pain avoidable?
It became more and more clear that I wasn’t so much unhappy with my new life as I was filled with guilt and anger that I wasn’t accomplishing any of my goals.
That realization, although helpful, didn’t provide any sort of a quick fix for me.
I found myself sometimes sitting in parking lots, looking out my car windows and feeling something akin to hatred for all the able-bodied people that walked by. It looked so easy for them. Look at them, driving, parking,walking!! How easy it looked!! And why couldn’t I do anything?I had to get a grip on myself. This only hurt me, not them. I didn’t like how it felt or who I was becoming.
Growing up, my mother had The Serenity Prayer framed in our kitchen. It begins “Lord, please give the serenity to accept what I cannot change, the courage to change what I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.” I had tried my best, and gotten this. So where was all that “wisdom” for me now?
I needed to turn this entire mess over to God….again. I was exhausted from trying to figure out my own course, and I had to start coming to grips with a more realistic assessment of my future. Just because some people had written books, or were polished speakers didn’t mean I would, or had to. It also didn’t mean I wouldn’t someday. And that had to be okay. If I couldn’t change my circumstances, and it seemed I couldn’t, I’d better start trying to change my attitude.
I am now seven years into being a “brain injury survivor” and I no longer feel that I am defined by my injury. I have a lot to be grateful for. I still live with balance and strength issues as well as headaches, fatigue, GI problems, and some very weird cognitive lacks but my inability to regain my music has been the most difficult thing of all. That had been my passion and vocation, and dominated almost every aspect of our lives. How could I negotiate a life without music? This is still a big challenge..
It was necessary to develop some different interests now, things that I hadn’t fully pursued because I never had the time. Now I did. And all those years I had “wasted” chasing unrealized goals? They weren’t really wasted at all, because without that effort I never would have gotten this far.
These days I have hours to watch birds, squirrels, deer, turkeys, and the occasional groundhog in our yard. I sit and study their behavior. I can take care of our cats, especially our very elderly one (Sirius Black) who is ecstatic at how available I am to now cater to his every need. I’m now midway through my third on-line seminary-level class.
Everything in our lives now is a reason for celebration, starting with the fact that I wake up each morning. Being able to move my legs, feeling my body temperature stabilize (finally), opening my eyes and seeing light flood in, talking, hearing….all these things are miracles for me. I can even make my own meals and cook for our family again.
I write old-fashioned letters to family and friends these days as an “occupational therapy.” The act of planning what I’ll say, getting it legibly down on the paper, then folding and putting the letter in the envelope (not to mention getting the stamp and return address label in the right place on the envelope!) has been great for me and for my relationships.
I still try to read up on the newest developments in brain plasticity and rehabilitation as well as my own health issues and take any needed actions accordingly. It’s not that I have no dreams left. I simply have to be more selective now.
It’s a good life and we are in peaceful waters these days. I’m not “cured.” Or “fixed.” We’ve found there’s really never a clear ending to a brain injury journey. But I am healing in very profound ways. I keep discovering new joys, and I know there are more ahead. I have confidence (most of the time 😉 that we’ll get through the inevitable challenges. At the risk of being cliche, we truly are seeing everything now as the miracle it always was. There’s nothing like almost losing your life to help you appreciate it.
Life doesn’t ever stop, although for a while it may stop for your family. In these seven years, two of our children have gotten married, and three have moved. We have gained our first grandchildren. Some pets have died, and we’ve gotten some new ones. Things are much more peaceful now in a good way. It’s been quite a journey, and it’s not finished yet.
I’ll start by saying I’m not defined by my brain injury. I am a woman, mother, daughter, sister, sister-in-law, aunt and grandmother who experienced a brain injury. But because it has had lifelong, profound effects, naturally that event sets new boundaries around my life.
I’ve been reflecting on where I’ve come, and where I’m going with the rest of my life.
The first years after the accident, I had such grand plans. And I would say that was totally necessary, because some “impossible” things did come true. I couldn’t plan my life anymore, so no one really had a clue what I might do and what would become of me. It required huge goals just to keep me moving most of the time. I wouldn’t have understood at all if I had seen my future self; I am only where I am now because of who I have been.
Now, 7 years later, there is a lot more clarity. At least at this point, there will be no book about my experience and learning. No public speaking, except in a small, occasional way. No piano or singing. No job outside of the home whether paid or volunteer. At least not right now.
So what is there? I have learned to prepare foods (with Marty’s frequent help) that I didn’t know existed before, and also learned to crave flavors that I didn’t care for before. I cook now for brain health, and body health, and that’s a very good thing. I am able, too, to do more of my own gardening again.
I am present at our house to observe so much more of the wildlife wonderfulness. Yesterday morning, a flock of wild turkeys were walking through our front yard while the tom patiently kept watch over his “ladies.” Last week two canada geese (probably the same nesting pair that was here last year) came knocking and honking on our deck glass door, and I was able to video the whole encounter. They were at our house for over 40 minutes. Most definitely scouting for a good nesting spot, which they were assuming would be in our living room 🙂
And the white-tailed deer. We now have an almost full-time herd over almost 30. They spend much of the days in our woods or our near neighbor’s but pass through our yard and walk right up to the house. It’s almost time for the babies again! They are a dreadful nuisance but so darned beautiful!
I walk so much more with God now. Through my years of being paid staff at churches, I was close to Him, but nothing at all like my experience now. I am taking on-line seminary level courses through the Bible Project classroom, and indulging my life-time inner geek. In my packed-full life before, this was never an option. Raising 4 kids, living on an acreage, 2 jobs, plus self-employment as musicians…..it was great, but frequently pretty stressful. My encounters with God had to be seriously planned for ahead of time.
I have time to work on my spirit my brain, and my body through such things as yoga, stretching, meditation, physical therapy at home, working out or just sitting and watching our birds and squirrels for hours sometime. Having the luxury now to care for our elderly cat, Sirius, as he is failing in health. We spend hours on the couch, him sitting next to me purring contentedly, my hand resting lightly on his sparsely-haired body. I’m feeding him kitten food now, and he spends a lot of time indoors, escaping from temperature extremes that his body can no longer handle.
So what’s next now? I have no idea. God does, and I’m resting in that. My job is to just keep myself ready for whatever winds do blow, so to speak. Now, 7 years after a severe TBI and major health complications resulting from the car wreck, I live a very good existence; No one’s life is perfect. I’m learning to not struggle with worries about a future that can seem very daunting when you actually choose to stare at it. I know there will be hidden beauties that I can’t even imaging now. Frankly, I’m curious and kind of excited to learn what they’ll be for me.
I’ve learned the really tough lesson that you can’t judge anyone else’s life from the outside. Sometimes there are huge, invisible joys in the smallest things. Lives that seemingly are not worth living may actually be quite happy and content ones, and lives that are seemingly perfect are sometimes anything but perfect. Our smiling exteriors cover up a whole world of different experiences.
Everyone has a story. What’s yours?
Last Monday we held the funeral for my father-in-law, Donn McDonald. All six of his grandchildren were the pall bearers. He was buried with military honors. He was placed, lovingly, next to his wife of 58 years, Arlean. He had missed her so, since her death in 2013.
I won’t write much today. I can’t. It’s not mainly about me, this terrible, sucking grief. His four children, his grand children, it’s so much worse for them.
Since 1985, when I arrived at their house in Des Moines with a couple of suitcases and a whole load of fear and desperation, he and Arlean had functioned as my parents too. They opened their door to their son’s pregnant girlfriend, and moved me into their second son’s bedroom while he was at college. They took me to church, to my OB appointments, and Arlean took Lamaze classes with me. They gave us the time we needed to make our decision about our future, which turned out to be the right one for us. They just presented me, as I was, to all their friends and family with a minimum of explanations. I’ll never know what that cost each of them, in embarrassment and the weathering of the many whispers.
Their youngest son, who was a senior at that, told me much later about everyone’s assumption that I was his girlfriend. I have no idea what people made of that, that Donn and Arlean were including their high-school-aged son’s pregnant girlfriend in all their activities. That thought didn’t change their behavior at all.
This good man is gone forever. I kept stumbling over my thoughts, that we would get all this hoo-haw over with, and then next Sunday he would be there, as he had been, sitting and waiting for us. For over a decade now, since they moved to the senior living center, we spent Sunday afternoons with them. They were the local grandparents for all four of our children, spending every holiday with our family. They babysat for our date nights, moved in when we vacationed, mowed our new acreage lawn and helped me wall paper. Came to church with us, especially on our children’s confirmation and baptisms.
So good-bye, Donn. You are in a much better place, that is clear, but we will greatly miss all that you were, and meant to us.
I loved you.
Dawn light was starting to come in the windows. Mahlah tried to squeeze her eyelids tightly closed against the light, but finally gave up and opened them. She looked around the dingy room, her eyes burning and dry. She reached up a quick hand to rub them. She shut her eyelids for a little welcome break before facing another day.
When she next opened them, her full bladder forced her to get out of bed. She efficiently tended to business, and cursed at the little water remaining in the pitcher. She would have go go to the well again today. Yesterday’s dishes were stacked in the sink, and the entire house was covered with a fine layer of dust. She would not only have to go, but make the trip several times to bring back sufficient water.
She looked for something she could eat for her breakfast. It looked as if Aaron had already left for the day. His breakfast dishes were still on the table, so she carried them over to the sink area. Mahlah reached up for the last pieces of bread, and tore off a piece. She tried to chew and swallow it, but her mouth was too dry, so she gave up after a few bites.
Mahlah surveyed the empty room seeing the marks of Aaron’s presence, and felt grateful that at least this man didn’t beat her. He was nice enough to her, and he had shared his house and his bed with her. There had been many men not nearly so generous. Starting with her father. He had thrown her out of his house when she was just 12, which had begun her seemingly endless life of desperation. But Aaron was, at least, carelessly kind to her.
She went to their bedroom and finished dressing for the day. She walked to the door and bent down for her shoes. How would she kill the time until the other women had finished at the well? She couldn’t face them this morning, no matter how thirsty she was. Besides, the head man of their village had threatened her if she went for water too early, while the other women were there. She wasn’t really too fearful, because she knew he, too, had shameful secrets, but it was all very unpleasant. It was much simpler to just stay out of people’s way, not draw attention to herself.
She decided she would go for a long walk, and grabbed some more bread to take with her. It was early afternoon before she came back to the house to pick up the jar and start the process of getting enough water. As she got closer, she saw a man just sitting there. Strange…..men shouldn’t be here at this time of day. As she got closer, she saw that he was Jewish. Against her will, her body tensed. Something very unpleasant must be happening. Was it a scouting mission for something bad? What was a Jew doing deep in Samaritan territory? But her thirst and desperation kept moving her forward. She tried to move slowly and quietly, to pose no threat to this strange man. When she got had finally gotten close enough for him to see her approach, he spoke.
“Will you get me a drink?” She stopped in startled surprise, then answered “You are a Jew. I am a Samaritan! How can you ask me for a drink?” Surely this would be an end to their discussion.
There was no immediate reply and she looked around. He was all alone. She was guarded, fear rising up. Nothing like this had ever happened to her before. She tried to think: what was his game? Was he just like every other man, looking for a woman to take advantage of? Or…..she saw that he had no jar of his own. Could he just be thirsty? Could it possibly be that simple?
Then the man spoke again: “If you knew the gift of God and who is asking you for a drink, you would have asked him and he would have given you living water.”
Imperceptibly she relaxed, sensing no violent intent on his part. True, his words made no sense. Clearly he had been driven insane by heat and thirst. She drew herself up and answered coolly “Sir, you have nothing to draw with and this well is deep. What are you talking about? Where can you get this “living water?” Are you greater than our father Jacob who gave us this well? Who drank from it himself, along with his sons, their flocks and herds?”
The man answered “Everyone who drinks from this well thirsts again, but whoever drinks the water I give him will never thirst. Indeed, the water I give him will become in him a spring of water welling up to eternal life.”
She stared, baffled but intrigued by what he said. Could it be? Something about his use of the term “living water” rang a bell, but her more immediate concern was her terrible thirst, and the possibility of a release from her need to fetch water forever! Did this man hold the secret to an eternal source of water somewhere?
She cried “Sir, give me this water so I will never be thirsty and won’t have to come and draw water anymore!!
But instead he just said “Go get your husband.”
Stung, she pulled back. Angry tears rose to her eyes. She should have known. He was just like all the men she had ever met, playing a cruel trick to mock and shame her. Softly she mumbled, “I have no husband.” She hung her head, eyes tightly closed, waiting for the angry words. She would survive it again, she always had.
But to her surprise he was still speaking gently. “You are correct when you say you have no husband. You have had five husbands, and the man you are with now is not your husband. What you say is true.”
Stunned she stared at him. Who was this Jewish stranger? How did he know these things about her? Had he been gossiping in the village? But Aaron would have known about it! A Jew in a Samaritan village was an event to set everyone to talking. He must be one of those Israelite prophets, then. She had heard about these people.
She tried to phrase her next sentence with the utmost respect. “Sir, I can see you are a prophet. Our fathers worshiped on this mountain but you Jews claim that the place we must worship is in Jerusalem.”
She felt a little thrill of worry at her confrontational words. He was a Jewish man of much higher rank, clearly. The least he might do if she had offended him was strike her, or make her leave the well without her water. She waited for his next sentence.
Yet his next words, far from the angry discipline she was expecting, came softly, but firmly. He told her that the time was coming when Samaritans and Jews would worship together, in spirit and truth, and taught with a clarity and wisdom she had never heard before. Impulsively she blurted “I know that the Messiah is coming! When he comes, he will explain everything to us!”
The man’s next words came: “I who speak to you am He.”
She was speechless, staring in wonder. In her peripheral vision, she saw several other men approaching. They stopped near the man and stood gaping at her. She didn’t sense a threat from them, but they were clearly taken aback.
Suddenly she leapt to her feet. Forgetting her water jar, Mahlah ran as fast as she could back to the village. Disturbed by this unexpected commotion, the people came to their doors staring in wonder. In the grip of strong emotions, she stammered out the story. Tears streamed down her face, making dark streaks through the dust and landing on the ground at her feet. Their faces, at first hardened into masks of annoyance, gradually lightened with joy and wonder. People started running toward the well, one at a time then forming into loose groups. Excited yells and singing came drifting back.
They found the man still there, along with his disciples, and ushered them back to the village. Everyone was talking excitedly, and Mahlah felt a warmth that had nothing to do with the heat outside. The man paused when he got to her, and they looked into each other’s eyes. Then he motioned to her, and they went in together to the head man’s house to finally get the drink of water she’d been needing all day.
Author’s Note: As usual, every detail that the gospel of John gives is included. I fleshed out the story from a combination of biblical knowledge and my own vivid imagination. It is strictly for entertainment purposes and your private meditation.
“7 Dear friends, let us love one another, for love comes from God. Everyone who loves has been born of God, and knows God 8 Whoever does not love does not know God, for God is love. 9 This is how God showed His love among us; He sent His one and only Son into the world so that we might live through Him. 10 This is love: not that we loved God, but that He loved us and sent His Son as an atoning sacrifice for our sins.” NIV Translation
To truly BE love, what does that mean for us? How do we live this out?
In the “before my car wreck time” I was able to share through my strengths: my music, my ministry, my teaching. I could come to where the need was. These days, most often, I am stuck sharing through my weaknesses. Struggling with reading myself and assisting the slower readers at our elementary school; being a really bad singer in church, telling myself that I help the people around us feel better about their own voices; having to accept other’s help most of the time.
Leaving somewhere I’ve been hundreds of times, and immediately turning the wrong direction; dropping my food, or having some on my face inadvertently; not being able to fully help with my grandchildren. These are not anywhere near the worst, but they are constant little reminders. My constant task has become to thank Him FOR my weaknesses, and to ask Him how He can use them.
Our church participates in the world wide Alpha program, and my husband and I have been hosts several times. The first time we ever hosted, the night we would meet our new small group, I was a bundle of nerves all day before. It was just a year or two after my accident, and I didn’t want my “story” to hijack anything. In a few weeks, we would give them a short synopsis of what had happened. The first nights were to be all about them.
We met them at dinner, and then went to the big worship space for the main teaching. While sitting there in the dark, my body temperature plummeted (even though I was wearing a coat AND under a blanket) and I started shivering uncontrollably. I had tears of shame in my eyes, because we were sitting in the middle of our group. WE were supposed to be the ones hosting them, making them comfortable. How could God let this happen to me on this night?
At the end of the talk, you separate into rooms for the small group processing time. My husband negotiated getting me to the room, then quickly left to use the restroom. Our group was trickling in. One man, right away, addressed me: “If you don’t mind me asking, what happened in there?”
I sighed heavily and tried to just give a very short explanation, saying that we’d tell more later. I explained about my car wreck and brain injury, and that, after severe TBI, sometimes your brain/body gets overwhelmed with all there is to do to keep your absolute bodily essentials going and it shuts down all the less immediate stuff like regulating your body temperature.
Those few words broke the dam in that room. That group had Stories. Stories of losing sons in plane crashes, stories of being in prison, having cancer, painful divorces, sisters that had meningitis. They talked, and cried, till long after we were supposed to dismiss them. What happened in that room that night was nothing less than a small miracle.
It really stinks to have Him use your weakness for His purposes. It doesn’t feel good. But sometimes you’re more use to Him in your brokenness than you are in your strength. And because He loves me so much, how could I refuse Him that little thing?
TO LOVE AND BE LOVED IS TO FEEL THE SUN FROM BOTH SIDES.
David Viscott
Because I’m loved so much, how could I not love? And do my best to embody love, whatever and however that looks.
I
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