Good News!

Why, oh why can't I just be a full-time blogger?  Life would be so much easier.  I could get my cup of coffee in the morning, get the kids off to school, and sit down to write.  I wouldn't even have to get out of my pajamas.

*Sigh*  Such is not the case...yet. 

But, here is the good news from our family:  Al got a job!  Almost 3 years after the stroke, he is finally going back to a part-time job.  I personally feel that it is about 2 years overdue, but you can only do so much when your physiatrist can only see you every 3-6 months, you're working with a slow-as-molasses government agency, and no one tells you what's going on.  Oh, well, whatever  happened, the Lord's timing is always perfect.

Al began his job last week at Lansing Community College.  He will be working part-time (very part-time at 12 hours per week) as a programmer.  The cool thing is that he is working with a good friend who gave him his start in IT many years ago when they worked together at Universal Map.  Al is still getting his feet wet, trying to jumpstart his brain a bit into remembering the ins and outs of computers and programming, but I firmly believe that it's only a matter of time until he gets back into the groove.

The mood in our house definitely seems lighter.  Al seems a bit more peaceful, and he is not nearly as tired as I thought he would be.  One of his most persistent issues has been neurofatigue, which just means his brain gets overworked and he has to take a break (or a nap) to recharge.  However, it seems like he's really hanging in there.

Meanwhile, I'm still working 20 hours per week as the librarian at my children's school.  It usually ends up feeling like 30 hours of work crammed into 20, trying to serve 700 kids and their unyielding requests for Diary of a Wimpy Kid and Captain Underpants.  It's a fun job, but I'm usually pretty exhausted by the end of my 3-day work week.  On top of persistent fatigue, I've been having trouble with joint pain, swelling and stiffness, as well as heat in my joints.  In fact, my body almost always feels too hot, even though I don't run a fever.  I often have a "hot flash" across my face, where my face just feels like it's on fire.  I've been having some muscle tingling and weakness in my arms and legs, as well as feeling shaky quite often.  To make a long story short, I'm finally pursuing further testing to determine whether I actually suffer from Chronic Fatigue Syndrome, Fibromyalgia, Rheumatoid Arthritis, or the like.  I have an appointment with a specialist in January.  I'm not hoping for some major disease (please, Lord, no!), but I will be very relieved if I can get a diagnosis that at least tells me that I'm not crazy or lazy!

Anyway, that's another whole blog post in and of itself.  I'm mainly sharing the good news that my hubs is back to work and we seem to be finally creating our "new normal."

Step By Step

I've been judgmental of my husband.  Since it's been a few years since the stroke, I expect that it's time for him to rally, to come back stronger than before.  I can't understand why he won't get up and do more - take a walk, visit friends.  I can't understand why he can't embrace his "new" self and accept that this is who he is.  I can't understand why he can't just move on.

Because I don't understand.  I don't understand what it's like to drag half my body around all day, every day.  I don't understand what it's like to have my arm hanging at my side, unable to muster any will to make it move, regardless of how hard I try or how badly I want it.  I don't understand what it feels like to struggle just to turn over in bed or to get up and use the bathroom at night.  I don't understand what it's like to go out in public and have people stare at me or not know how to act around me.

Even more, I don't understand what it's like to know that I can't provide for my family the way I used to.  I don't understand what it's like to wonder if I will be able to walk my daughters down the aisle.  I don't know what it's like to not be able to take my son on a camping trip.  I don't understand what it's like to feel like my life is over.

Most of my selfish thoughts have centered around ME.  Why can't he help me more around the house?  Why can't he pay the bills?  Why can't he help more with the kids?  Why is our relationship so strained?

Well, obviously!  Our relationship is strained because I am expecting far too much of him, and then I'm dumping all my grief and misery on him when he doesn't live up to my expectations.  

I am ashamed.  I apologize, openly, here, to my husband.  And to my kids, who have seen me treat their Daddy poorly.

The truth of it is that Al is as much of a man as he ever was, maybe even more of a man.  He may not have the physical strength he once had.  But he has more emotional strength than before.  He has more spiritual strength - he prays every. single. day. regardless of whether he feels like he's "getting anything" from it.  He is faithful.

Al loves me with a superhuman love.  There have been times that I have behaved so poorly that I believed it would be in his right to just walk away and leave me.  I have screamed and ranted.  I have pouted and sulked.  I have said very unkind things to him.  I have wallowed in self-pity.

And Al just loves me.  He is very quiet and very constant.  Through my tears and wails, he has remained steadfast.  Even after days that I've acted like Kate from The Taming of the Shrew, his commitment is unwavering. After everything I've done, he is still tender and caring and loving.

And then I remember that this was one of the major reasons I fell in love with Al:  I experience of the love of God through him.  

Recently, this song has been playing through my head, over and over.  Maybe the Lord put it there to remind me of the love Al has for me and his family.

You take that first step,
Ask her out and treat her like a lady
Second step, 

Tell her she's the one youre dreaming of

Third step, 

Take her in your arms and never let her go
Dont you know, step by step
Step by step, you'll win her love

 (Step by Step, Eddie Rabbitt, 1981)

Yeah.  My husband loves me like that.  I've been too self-focused, looking at the practical things that may have been lost after the stroke.  I had forgotten, but now I remember, that I am married to a truly wonderful, loving man of God.

My husband's blog

If you want to hear from the stroke survivor himself (or as he refers to himself, Gimp-In-Chief), here is a link to his new blog:  Diffrent Stroke

A Sad Glimpse of Hope

Yes, the title is a bit oxymoronic. Isn't Hope always happy or … hopeful?

A few nights ago, I rolled over in bed to grab my husband's left hand. I do this sometimes just because I love him, but mostly because his left arm gets spastic during the night and it stretches out toward me, becoming a stiff beam across the bed and locking me into an uncomfortable position on an outer sliver of the bed. If I hold his hand or stroke his arm, sometimes the tone will soften and I can push his arm back toward his side and reclaim some of my part of the bed.

As I reached for his hand that night, I was only half awake. Strangely, I was greeted by movement. I squeezed his hand, and he fluttered his fingers back. Still being groggy, I did it again, wondering why it seemed strange to me. Then my eyes shot open and I asked him, “Is that your left hand moving???” Sadly, his response was, “No.” He was using his right hand to stretch out the fingers in his left hand, which sometimes become uncomfortably tight during the night. He wears a splint on his left hand to keep it straightened out instead of shrinking into a tight ball, but sometimes his finger pull out of the splint and do their own thing anyway. He had been fumbling with his fingers to get them to cooperate enough to get them back into the splint. I had grabbed his right hand, not his left.

Of course, I was disappointed. But I was also somewhat surprised that, in my sleepy fog, it didn't seem so strange to feel his hand moving. It was as if, somewhere in my subconscious, I knew it would happen some day.

But in my conscious mind, I realized that I have given up hope for Al to experience any further physical recovery. I no longer expect my husband to walk perfectly or to regain the use of his arm and hand. Is this reality, or am I becoming a pessimist?

There is a reality in the medical world that says his chances of regaining further mobility at this point in his post-stroke rehab are slim to none. But there is an even greater Reality that says that everything is possible for him who believes.

The father of the boy whose son was possessed by demons said to Jesus:

“But if you can do anything, take pity on us and help us.”

“'If you can'?” said Jesus. “Everything is possible for one who believes.”

Immediately the boy’s father exclaimed, “I do believe; help me overcome my unbelief!”

(Mark 9:22-24)

It is time to return my true Hope to the One who deserves it. I do not hope in the medical community, although they have much to offer. I choose to hope in Jesus.

Lord, I do believe. Help me overcome my unbelief.

Jars of Clay

But we have this treasure in jars of clay to show that this all-surpassing power is from God and not from us.  We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed.

A familiar verse from 2 Corinthians 4 if you know the Bible.  We are easily reminded that we are jars of clay or earthen vessels.  We're not made of steel or titanium.  We're made of mud; wet dirt hardened into something practical.  Not always beautiful, but useful.  (But I do wonder sometimes why my "dirt" is flabbier and has more gray hair than other people....)

The part that really made me think was that, as part of bearing the hardship of being human, we are perplexed.  Perplexed.  Seems like an odd word for the Bible.  As I started to ponder the meaning of the word perplexed - bewildered, puzzled - I realized that it pretty much describes me.  I am perplexed by God and His purposes.  I am confused, bewildered even....

Before I got married, I knew I wanted to be a stay-at-home Mom.  So, on my checklist for potential partners, that requirement was right near the top, along with finding a man who was a committed Christian and was willing to feed me chocolate on a daily basis.  I found Al about 6 years before I realized he was "the one," but God knew all along.

So I got to be a stay-at-home Mom for 10 whole years. Early on in parenthood, I was convinced that homeschooling would be the best option for our kids, and I talked my skeptical husband into it. I homeschooled for 5 years and then I burned out.  The hubs talked me into putting the kids in school.  It was a blow for my ego, to realize that I couldn't be the perfect do-it-all Mom that I wanted to be.  But God knew I struggled with depression and fatigue, and he also knew that I would get mono that first year the kids were in school.

By the end of my kids' first year at their school, a position opened up in the office.  I was nowhere near ready to work full-time, nor had I ever dreamed of working outside the home again after experiencing the heavenly silence of having children at school all day!  But there was a nudge.  God was in this somewhere:  A nagging thought in the back of my head.  At the time, money was a little tight, as always, but my thinking was that maybe I would work for a few years so we could pay off some debt. My husband agreed to let me apply only if I really wanted to do it.  By the end of my kids' first year, I  was working part-time at the school; by the beginning of the second year - September 2010 - I was the full-time Office Administrator.  It was an extremely busy job, but I loved it.  God had a plan.  He knew I could do something I didn't think I could do.

Then in January 2011 came the stroke.  It then became obvious to me that God led me to want and take that job so that I could bring in some money during that extremely challenging time.  And it was oddly comforting to have something I could do that kept my mind off the fact that my husband was suddenly and severely disabled.  I continued to work full-time for another year and then I caved.  I told my boss that I just couldn't handle a full-time job while trying to care for my husband and children.  Once again, I felt like my ego had taken a hit.  I couldn't do this either.  I felt like I kept failing at everything I tried. But I was blessed to transfer to a part-time position in the school's library, which I still enjoy. 

So, what am I perplexed about?  It is apparent, looking back over the past years, that God had a plan to provide for us in every way.  I would think my faith would be a lot more solid by now, like "Yeah, God's got this under control."  Yet, each day the future is still uncertain, challenging, and occasionally very scary.  I am perplexed as to why God continues to perplex me!  I feel like life is ALWAYS challenging, ALWAYS perplexing.  Can't He just give me a break once in a while???  (I say with a little sarcasm and a lot of faith, so as to hopefully avoid a lightning strike.)

The comfort in this passage is that I am not alone.  Scripture tells me that we are all perplexed from time to time, but not in despair.  Sometimes I despair, but God always gives me grace to trust in spite of my confusion.  We are hard pressed - PRESSED. HARD. - but not crushed.   We are struck down, but not destroyed.

"Therefore we do not lose heart.  Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day.  For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all.  So we fix our eyes not on what is seen but what is unseen.  For what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal."  (2 Cor. 4:16-18) 

It Comes Down to This

It has been a difficult couple of years.  I have fought a lot of self-pity.  "Woe is me.  My life didn't turn out the way I wanted.  This is hard work.  I don't like it."

From the outside, it may seem like the fact that my husband had a stroke should be "no big deal" by now.  "Hey, it's 2 1/2 years later.  Accept it and move on."  I accepted the stroke itself within the first six months...by repeating to myself over and over and over, "My husband had a stroke."  It was very unreal, so I said it to myself and out loud to everyone I met until I accepted it.  Then it was, "My husband is disabled."  To the cashier at Meijer.  To the guy at the greenhouse who helped me to load wood chips onto a cart.  To the people who came to my yard sales.

Then it was, "Will I have to work full-time for the rest of my life?"

Then, "We have to file for bankruptcy."

Then, "Our marriage will never be the same."

Then, "God....You let us down."

When I was young(er), my vision for my life was this:  Know, Love and Serve God.  Get married, have kids, raise a family of prayer warriors (a word God spoke to me when I was a missionary in the Philippines), and become Super Wife and Super Mom. Can you guess what didn't happen the way I wanted it to?

The time has come.  I am challenging myself, my children, my husband, and hopefully all who read this:  Accept God's will for your life.  I was reading Psalm 16, which I had dubbed as my "life Psalm" over 20 years ago. I wanted my heart to reflect what David said in the Psalm, "Lord, you have assigned me my portion and my cup; you have made my lot secure.  The boundary lines have fallen for me in pleasant places; surely I have a delightful inheritance."

But my attitude has been far from this in dealing with the aftermath of the stroke.  I accepted that it happened; obviously, I couldn't deny what in fact had happened.  But I have been crying, whining, and complaining that God didn't swoop in and fix it all right away.  Where was the miraculous healing?  Where was my husband's Academy-Award-winning rally?  Where was the new house and car that Ty Pennington should have given me?  Where were my lottery winnings?

I hope you realize that I am exaggerating just a little, but it certainly didn't get easier when I had to work full-time in a high-stress job for a year after the stroke.  It worked out peacefully for me to move to a part-time position, but that created more financial stress.  It didn't get easier to deal with the depression and anxiety with which I've battled for years; in fact, those things became exponentially worse.  My kids didn't magically transform into Spirit-led prayer warriors.  And I most certainly did NOT become Super Mom.

Now, I'm faced with this reality:  God has surely allowed my life to progress to the place where it is today; surely for His purposes, and ultimately for my salvation.  Either I can change my thinking from "God, when are you going to do something about this huge mess in my life?" to "God, show me how I can serve you in this mess" OR I will continue to be depressed, miserable, and deceived.

Can you guess what choice I'm going to make?

The Vine and the Branches

After a heat wave, even a short one like the one we had in Michigan a few weeks ago, it's not hard to find patches of dying grass or wilting blossoms on the summer flowers.

That's how I feel.  Like a crispy, dried branch on a vine that is otherwise healthy.  I was reading John 15, and I realized that I'm the branch on the vine that is at risk of being cut off by the Gardener.  I'm not exactly sure how to take that verse - John 15:2 says that God the Father will cut off every branch that does not bear fruit.  I understand the symbolism - that I had better be connected to Jesus or I'm wasting my life.  But will God really cut me off?  In the light of Jesus' mercy, I think the cutting will be God cutting off the junk that makes me unproductive.  That's probably why it hurts.  God is pruning me and cutting off the clutter that doesn't really matter in my life.

I don't know why I didn't inherit my mother's green thumb.  She loves to garden, and she works in her yard any chance she can get.  I just want something to look pretty outside my house with minimal human involvement, like a realistic sculpture of a plant.  My mom came to visit me one spring after we had just moved to a new house.  She wanted to help me re-create the existing gardens.  In her zeal, she accidentally  cut a rather healthy clematis all the way to the ground. She felt terrible.  But guess what?  The clematis came back that summer, and by the fall, it had grown up, not only wrapping itself around the trellis, but climbing all the way to the 2nd story roof on our house. 


I think this must a be a pruning period for me.  I have allowed a lot of junk to invade my life, to the point that it is suffocating my spiritual life.  In response to the real challenges of having a disabled husband and filing for bankruptcy and trying to raise 4 kids who aren't completely dysfunctional,  I have turned to junk to fill my needs instead of God.  I sleep a lot.  I eat too much.  I watch TV or play video games or surf the web endlessly.  Kind of useless junk, wouldn't you say?  Of course I need to let God trim that junk away so that I can get on with the business of knowing, loving and serving God.  Theoretically, it shouldn't hurt too much to have that stuff cut away.  It isn't really satisfying anyway, but for some reason, I keep chasing down the crap that doesn't fulfill.

Time to let God do His thing.  Please take out the trash, Lord; cut off the fruitless, dry branches, and help me to sprout and grow healthy and fruitful.