Can love be monitored on a machine? I am inclined to think so.
Though I do not remember it, I am told that just out of recovery from open heart surgery they let my husband Rob come back and see me. I was unconscious at the moment. As he came to my side and grabbed my hand the heart rate monitor took a great leap. The nurses paid quick attention to the spike in my pulse and smiled in delight when they realized the cause. The heart is a wonderous thing.
Saturday, November 8, 2008
Tuesday, November 4, 2008
A Dream
Dreams. Education tells me that dreams are the brain's filing system: a way of processing the days events, connecting them with relevant knowledge and memories past, and organizing them into our short- and long-term memory system.
And yet there are still those dreams that seem to have something more to them. Sometimes they shake you to the bone or ring so true to reality that they feel like a vision. Does God speak to us through them? I don't know if we can know for certain, but I am not willing to rule it out. Perhaps it is just coincidence, but looking back one particular dream leaves me thinking that God has spoken to me.
Before my heart problems began, long before they began, I had a dream that I niether understood nor could forget. It scared me. The dream was this: I lay awake in a bed of a brightly lit room, fully alert but unable to communicate. My mother stood over me, comforting me and stroking my brow as though I was a child although we were both adults at some future point in time. And that's it. I've worried and pondered for years what life circumstances could bring me to that point.
Years later after diagnosis and a decision to operate on my heart, in one sudden moment it all made sense. It was a vision of the recovery room. This flashback was just one of a multitude of events past where I could now see that God has been actively preparing me for heart surgery. I knew that I would be OK. This dream, however silly it may seem, gave me great peace and confidence in the face of open heart surgery.
Both Mom and I are delighted to say that moment has come and past, just as envisioned, and my heart is on the road to perfect recovery. Thank you Lord for your intimate love with each of us.
And yet there are still those dreams that seem to have something more to them. Sometimes they shake you to the bone or ring so true to reality that they feel like a vision. Does God speak to us through them? I don't know if we can know for certain, but I am not willing to rule it out. Perhaps it is just coincidence, but looking back one particular dream leaves me thinking that God has spoken to me.
Before my heart problems began, long before they began, I had a dream that I niether understood nor could forget. It scared me. The dream was this: I lay awake in a bed of a brightly lit room, fully alert but unable to communicate. My mother stood over me, comforting me and stroking my brow as though I was a child although we were both adults at some future point in time. And that's it. I've worried and pondered for years what life circumstances could bring me to that point.
Years later after diagnosis and a decision to operate on my heart, in one sudden moment it all made sense. It was a vision of the recovery room. This flashback was just one of a multitude of events past where I could now see that God has been actively preparing me for heart surgery. I knew that I would be OK. This dream, however silly it may seem, gave me great peace and confidence in the face of open heart surgery.
Both Mom and I are delighted to say that moment has come and past, just as envisioned, and my heart is on the road to perfect recovery. Thank you Lord for your intimate love with each of us.
Thursday, October 16, 2008
An Inspiration
I have a deep seeded desire to live up to expectations of those whom I look up to. Whether it's my family, educational insitutions or society in general, my goal not only to 'do' but to 'become' the very product that they have set out for me. Although there are positive elements to be drawn from this trait, it often leads to a superficial existence and a great deal of discouragement when those influences become negative. I view this as one of my greatest weaknesses and something that will be a lifelong battle.
There are a few victories to celebrate in this process. One of them has been taking ownership of my physical fitness, in particular running. For whatever reason, I have flown in the face of my influencors that have otherwise defined me as a tomboy, not fat "just big-boned", and someone who has beauty to be appreciated through "mature" eyes. This process began to take shape in college and has ignited a process of physical and emotional transformation to continues to this day. On the outset, I'm just talking about fitness and running, but this part of life means the world to me. It belongs to me and God. Nobody can touch it.
From the very beginning there has been a recurring vision, call it a daydream, that has come to mind during my runs. I thought it perhaps as a creative outlet to think about God - a dramatization of a miraculous God story that would unfold in my future. The vision was this: that God's spirit was literally scooping me up in the palm of his hand and carrying me as I ran, to go distances that defied my abilities and to manifest a physical healing that would save my life. It gave me something to think about on otherwise long and painful runs, and it became a source of inspiration. I figured that it might play a role in some battle with cancer in my elderly years.
Flash forward to the cardiologist office and diagnosis day. I had been born with a deformed heart valve that had gone undetected for over 30 years. It was finally wearing out, my heart was enlarged and it was leaking badly. I needed open-heart surgery. On the heels of this, the doctor began to commend me for being in excellent physical health. It was, in fact, the primary reason that I has been able to go so long before becoming symptomatic. It would also substantially boost the odds of survival and returning to a long and normal life.
My heart felt like it stopped (ha ha) and life flashed before me. It was a moment of exceptional clarity. The world slowed down and everything else became soft and quiet. So long had I been in waiting for a significant God moment. In that instant I realized that I had experienced a multitude of God moments, I just didn't know it. All this time.... all this time I didn't have the foggiest notion that this was happening inside of me, but God did. This self-proclaimed victory of fitness didn't start with me at all. I knew that God had been taking care of me with those runs and talking to me with those "daydreams". So this is what it felt like. And here I had immagined a distant and far-off stuggle. God was taking care of me all along. When I didn't even know to ask for help, he took care of me. I've never felt so completely silly, so undeserving, and so very loved.
There are a few victories to celebrate in this process. One of them has been taking ownership of my physical fitness, in particular running. For whatever reason, I have flown in the face of my influencors that have otherwise defined me as a tomboy, not fat "just big-boned", and someone who has beauty to be appreciated through "mature" eyes. This process began to take shape in college and has ignited a process of physical and emotional transformation to continues to this day. On the outset, I'm just talking about fitness and running, but this part of life means the world to me. It belongs to me and God. Nobody can touch it.
From the very beginning there has been a recurring vision, call it a daydream, that has come to mind during my runs. I thought it perhaps as a creative outlet to think about God - a dramatization of a miraculous God story that would unfold in my future. The vision was this: that God's spirit was literally scooping me up in the palm of his hand and carrying me as I ran, to go distances that defied my abilities and to manifest a physical healing that would save my life. It gave me something to think about on otherwise long and painful runs, and it became a source of inspiration. I figured that it might play a role in some battle with cancer in my elderly years.
Flash forward to the cardiologist office and diagnosis day. I had been born with a deformed heart valve that had gone undetected for over 30 years. It was finally wearing out, my heart was enlarged and it was leaking badly. I needed open-heart surgery. On the heels of this, the doctor began to commend me for being in excellent physical health. It was, in fact, the primary reason that I has been able to go so long before becoming symptomatic. It would also substantially boost the odds of survival and returning to a long and normal life.
My heart felt like it stopped (ha ha) and life flashed before me. It was a moment of exceptional clarity. The world slowed down and everything else became soft and quiet. So long had I been in waiting for a significant God moment. In that instant I realized that I had experienced a multitude of God moments, I just didn't know it. All this time.... all this time I didn't have the foggiest notion that this was happening inside of me, but God did. This self-proclaimed victory of fitness didn't start with me at all. I knew that God had been taking care of me with those runs and talking to me with those "daydreams". So this is what it felt like. And here I had immagined a distant and far-off stuggle. God was taking care of me all along. When I didn't even know to ask for help, he took care of me. I've never felt so completely silly, so undeserving, and so very loved.
Monday, October 13, 2008
Psalm 139 v1-18
(NIV translation from http://www.biblegateway.com/)
For the director of music. Of David. A psalm.
1 O LORD, you have searched me and you know me.
2 You know when I sit and when I rise; you perceive my thoughts from afar.
3 You discern my going out and my lying down; you are familiar with all my ways.
4 Before a word is on my tongue you know it completely, O LORD.
5 You hem me in—behind and before; you have laid your hand upon me.
6 Such knowledge is too wonderful for me, too lofty for me to attain.
7 Where can I go from your Spirit? Where can I flee from your presence?
8 If I go up to the heavens, you are there; if I make my bed in the depths, [a] you are there.
9 If I rise on the wings of the dawn, if I settle on the far side of the sea,
10 even there your hand will guide me, your right hand will hold me fast.
11 If I say, "Surely the darkness will hide me and the light become night around me,"
12 even the darkness will not be dark to you; the night will shine like the day, for darkness is as light to you.
13 For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother's womb.
14 I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well.
15 My frame was not hidden from you when I was made in the secret place. When I was woven together in the depths of the earth,
16 your eyes saw my unformed body. All the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be.
17 How precious to [b] me are your thoughts, O God! How vast is the sum of them!
18 Were I to count them, they would outnumber the grains of sand. When I awake, I am still with you.
For the director of music. Of David. A psalm.
1 O LORD, you have searched me and you know me.
2 You know when I sit and when I rise; you perceive my thoughts from afar.
3 You discern my going out and my lying down; you are familiar with all my ways.
4 Before a word is on my tongue you know it completely, O LORD.
5 You hem me in—behind and before; you have laid your hand upon me.
6 Such knowledge is too wonderful for me, too lofty for me to attain.
7 Where can I go from your Spirit? Where can I flee from your presence?
8 If I go up to the heavens, you are there; if I make my bed in the depths, [a] you are there.
9 If I rise on the wings of the dawn, if I settle on the far side of the sea,
10 even there your hand will guide me, your right hand will hold me fast.
11 If I say, "Surely the darkness will hide me and the light become night around me,"
12 even the darkness will not be dark to you; the night will shine like the day, for darkness is as light to you.
13 For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother's womb.
14 I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well.
15 My frame was not hidden from you when I was made in the secret place. When I was woven together in the depths of the earth,
16 your eyes saw my unformed body. All the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be.
17 How precious to [b] me are your thoughts, O God! How vast is the sum of them!
18 Were I to count them, they would outnumber the grains of sand. When I awake, I am still with you.
Sunday, October 12, 2008
Life Plus One
I am facing my own mortality at a new level. We all know that ours will end someday, but discovering a heart problem has brought the issue to a head. Otherwise youthfull and healthy, I am now involved with decisions about open heart surgery, the possiblity of stroke, and chances of survival.
At the onset, I got caught entertaining thoughts and questions I knew better than to ask. How could God let this happen? How could He have known about this and let me have children? I was terrified and nervous. I didn't have control. This wasn't how things were supposed to happen. I was feeling sorry for myself. I was riddled with anxiety.
Then God opened my eyes. The echoes from a lifetime of Sundays flooded their way back into my thoughts. Yes, I knew that God created me and breathed life into me. Yes, I understood that he knew my every detail, my past, present and future. Yes, I believed in His goodness. Yes, I 'believed' all of these things, but really knowing them to be true with my own life on the line was another thing.
The evidence was in my children - the most complex and beautiful creatures I have ever known. Certainly they were a precious gift beyond anything of my own making. They reminded me that life is a gift. I do not 'deserve' my own life any more than I do my those of my children. There is no injustice committed when life ends. God is not taking away anything that didn't belong to him in the first place. Life is a gift. This key thought marks a turning point when the understanding of what I believed to be true became a solid faith of what I knew to be true by experience. Fear, self-pitty and worry have been exchanged for peace, hope, and thankfulness for 32 years of life that I didn't have coming my way. Life is a gift.
Every day I wake up to face a new one is one more than I deserve. Every single day. From the best to the very worst, I am here by the life-giving generosity of my creator, and that is something to be thankful for. My life unfolds in Him, by Him, and through Him. I have peace. Every day is one more than I deserve. Today is more than I deserve. Life plus one.
At the onset, I got caught entertaining thoughts and questions I knew better than to ask. How could God let this happen? How could He have known about this and let me have children? I was terrified and nervous. I didn't have control. This wasn't how things were supposed to happen. I was feeling sorry for myself. I was riddled with anxiety.
Then God opened my eyes. The echoes from a lifetime of Sundays flooded their way back into my thoughts. Yes, I knew that God created me and breathed life into me. Yes, I understood that he knew my every detail, my past, present and future. Yes, I believed in His goodness. Yes, I 'believed' all of these things, but really knowing them to be true with my own life on the line was another thing.
The evidence was in my children - the most complex and beautiful creatures I have ever known. Certainly they were a precious gift beyond anything of my own making. They reminded me that life is a gift. I do not 'deserve' my own life any more than I do my those of my children. There is no injustice committed when life ends. God is not taking away anything that didn't belong to him in the first place. Life is a gift. This key thought marks a turning point when the understanding of what I believed to be true became a solid faith of what I knew to be true by experience. Fear, self-pitty and worry have been exchanged for peace, hope, and thankfulness for 32 years of life that I didn't have coming my way. Life is a gift.
Every day I wake up to face a new one is one more than I deserve. Every single day. From the best to the very worst, I am here by the life-giving generosity of my creator, and that is something to be thankful for. My life unfolds in Him, by Him, and through Him. I have peace. Every day is one more than I deserve. Today is more than I deserve. Life plus one.
Saturday, October 11, 2008
God is Unexpected
As a follower of Christ, I find myself longing for definitive God moments - those particular events that offer a sense of certainty that God has reached out and touched me directly. Until recently, and despite knowing better, my expectation has been to hear a loud voice or to be involved in an otherwise unexplainable miraculous event of some sort. If faith could only be so easy. What I did not expect was the discovery of a life-threating heart condition and a look back at my life that revealed God's intervention in the smallest of details and an orchestration of seemingly unrelated people and events that safeguarded my health when I didn't even know to ask for it.
I am humbled. I feel loved and care for in circumstances that are beyond my control. It is difficult to accept that God would be so intimately involved in the midst of my ignorance and so consistent despite the ebb and flow of my commitment to Him. His world is so big. I feel so small. I am extatic. I am thankful.
I am humbled. I feel loved and care for in circumstances that are beyond my control. It is difficult to accept that God would be so intimately involved in the midst of my ignorance and so consistent despite the ebb and flow of my commitment to Him. His world is so big. I feel so small. I am extatic. I am thankful.
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