It’s always gonna be something with you isn’t it Joe

 

                I feel like God must say this millions of times a day.   This quote is from the movie Joe vs. The Volcano.  Meg Ryan says it to Tom Hanks after they find themselves escaping a series of death defining events.  First they were the soul survivors of a shipwreck and were able to use Joe’s water proof luggage as a raft.  Next they find an inhabited island just as they run out of water.  Then after jumping into an active volcano they find themselves being shot right out of it unharmed.  Then once again Joe’s luggage is formed into a raft as they watch the island sink into the ocean.  Last they find out that the incurable disease of Joes (the braincloud) doesn’t even exist.   Meg Ryan’s character Patricia is in complete awe as she looks back at all of these events and exclaims “We are saved.”  And then Tom Hanks Character Joe says “well yeah, but we are still in the middle of nowhere with no land in sight and no water.”  Meg Ryan’s Characters follows that up by saying “It’s always gonna be something with you isn’t it Joe.”

                Four years ago my mentor asked me something like what my end goal was.  What did I want, and where did I emotionally /spiritually want to be at the end of this.  I think it took me a while, days, and weeks even then I finally concluded that I just wanted peace to have some rest and freedom.  Freedom not necessarily from my present circumstances, but freedom from me really.  My mind and thoughts would just exhaust me, but I couldn’t see how to stop them.  I wanted so badly for things to just work out right.  But I felt like I had to keep all of the plates in the air at all times.  I had to work physically and mentally nonstop just to end up in the same place.  It felt like I could single handedly ruin things and people just by saying, doing, thinking or not remembering the right thing.  I wanted to have a peaceful fulfilling marriage; I wanted to be the mom and wife that didn’t have to try to respond in love.  I wanted to be a hardworking, dependable non complaining employee.  (All of my Iowa coworkers probably just choked on their own saliva, because I couldn’t have been further from that.)  No matter how hard I tried and really desired to be the good wife, mother, daughter, sister, aunt, coworker or friend I always failed in this effort miserably and not just that, but someone always ended up being hurt by me.  So I would pour all of my effort once again into doing everything the right way.  I became active in the church, active with my parents and siblings.  I would take extra responsibility on myself just desperate to have some conformation that I was on the right track, but it never worked out that way.   

                So peace, rest and freedom were what I desired and I prayed for those relentlessly for months to no avail.  Finally I gave up hope that such a thing even existed.  All three of those by the way are promised by God when we put our trust in him.  I didn’t get it; I don’t know anybody who more stubbornly commits themselves to their resolution then me.  So why was it being withheld from me.  “I was doing the work, I was baby stepping.”  (That one is for my family, your welcome.) Sometime before this event Greg and I had stopped going to church.  I decided to work weekends instead.  I couldn’t handle church people anymore.  They all talked about all of those spiritual feelings and blessing, but I could see that their little wheels were spinning just like mine, but unlike me they refused to admit that they hadn’t found any peace or rest.  There is another quote from that movie that makes me think about this.  Patricia told Joe “My father says that almost the whole world is asleep. Everybody you know. Everybody you see. Everybody you talk to. He says that only a few people are awake and they live in a state of constant total amazement.”  This is what I pictured when I thought of peace, rest and freedom.  This is what it should look like, “Constant Total Amazement.”  This is not what I found at church, blessed talk at church, home talk at home, two separate realities.  I told you before that I could never get comfortable with the obvious nakedness of the emperor.  The church seemed embarrassingly naked to me yet the charade continued on.  For me to buy any of it, God had to be real to me, real at church, real at home, real at work and real when I was alone.  I didn’t want to pretend it or to try really hard to convince myself of it.  It wasn’t enough for me to read about other people’s experiences with God in the bible I needed to experience him for myself.  I wanted proof, I demanded a sign. 

                One of my favorite books is C. S. Lewis’s Till we have Faces, I read this book at least two times a year and is one of only four or five books that I have ever picked up again after reading it for the first time.  This book is the retelling of the Greek myth of Cupid and Psyche.  The story starts out with an accusation to the Gods by queen Orual.  The story is told from her perspective.  Her whole life she has feared the gods and their interactions with humans and yet in the same token she doubts their very existence.   I can very much relate to her story line and I have found myself walking the line between biblical obedience based purely out of the fear of being wrong, and mockingly refusing to be made a fool by being part of a club that only meets on Sunday mornings.  I teeter back and forth between those two realities; I am usually an all or nothing kind of girl so this line was difficult for me to walk.

                Several years ago I started to teeter towards biblical compliance because I saw everything begin to fall apart again.  I had gotten tired of keeping everything going and I had begun to let the plates fall.  Greg and I could hardly stand each other, I felt completely let down by him, this was not the kind of marriage I had signed up for.  My kids were exhausting to me I loved them, but it was difficult for me to be warm or loving towards them when I didn’t feel like I had anything left.  I was scared that I would emotionally harm them by being so cold and emotionless it was beginning to tear me apart.  I had tried so hard to reestablish a real and honest relationship with my parents and siblings.  I poured everything I had left into a family reunion over Christmas I had wanted so badly for things to work out; I was hoping that there would be some understanding with my family.  I have wanted so badly at times for people to be able to look into my craziness and see that I just needed help, I thought that this would be the time, that this trip would be encouraging and healing, but instead I left feeling completely devastated.   I was accused of being a selfish brat among other things; it was a blow that I couldn’t take.  It took me months to get over the hurt and shock. 

                I brought all of that up because it was during this time that things were being revealed to me that I believe were meant to prepare me for this.  There was one day in particular that I was really struggling.  Greg had been working very late hours, I had been sick for a week and it was as though my kids could smell blood in the water because they were being crazy.  That day I was just living for their bed time, and finally it came.  Everett went to bed like a trooper, but Amara was just bent on making it difficult.  Amara and I just went round and round that night, but finally I felt like we had come to an understanding and I began to tuck her into bed.  Right as I was leaving her room she did or said something awful.   I don’t remember what it was, but I remember thinking why couldn’t she have done that after I had left the room and then I could pretend that I hadn’t heard it.  But now I had to be a “good mom” and once again have a battle of the wills with Amara.  I tried to, but I just couldn’t do it, I was just too tired so I took the easy way out and said sternly “what is your dad going to say when I tell him.”  She had been facing the wall refusing to roll over, but all of a sudden she rolled over and looked at me square in the eye and she said confidently “beautiful,” then she rolled back to the wall and pulled the covers over her head.

                I went up to my room and started my new biblical compliance bed time routine of reading several chapters in the bible then scaring myself half to death with a book called Bondage Breaker and then I would pray for an hour just begging God to just give me a sign.  Give me peace, to let me rest, to give me some freedom in him and then I ended my routine feeling just as alone as I had when I began it.

I was restless that night and couldn’t get to sleep.  This wasn’t unusual I almost never sleep.  I just kept thinking about what Amara had said.  It played over and over in my mind; how was I going to parent that little ball of defiant energy?  After a while a thought came to me.  I believe it was from God because it came to a conclusion that wasn’t anywhere near my scope or current frame of reference.   I believe he said “it’s true, I would say that you are beautiful” then it continued “there hasn’t been a time or an event that if you or anyone else were to ask me what my thoughts of you are my answer first and most importantly would and will be beautiful.   I see you as beautiful.” Can you imagine my shock as I started to process that concept?  He thought of me as beautiful first before anything else!!  I am a doer; I try so hard all of the time to do the right thing.  I wanted so badly to be valuable to someone and he was saying that even in the times when I have given up and in a defiant act of disobedience bite my thumb at him he still views me first as beautiful.

It was also during this time that he started introducing me to another concept.  He started to show me that what he desired of me was my heart and not my hands.  Wow, this one was hard because I happen to be a doer that had no access to my heart at all.  I wanted a cure, a fix, but that wasn’t on the table, he wanted to heal me. 

A couple of days later a song came on the radio I had heard it many times before and already knew enough of the words that I could mostly sing along with it.  This time however it felt different the words meant something new.  The song is by Brandon Heath it is called Your Love.

I felt it first when I was younger
A strange connection to the light
I tried to satisfy the hunger
I never got it right
I never got it right

So I climbed a mountain and l built an altar
Looked out as far as I could see
And everyday I’m getting older
I’m running outta dreams
I’m running outta dreams

But Your love
Your love
The only thing that matters is Your love
Your love is all I have to give
Your love is enough to light up the darkness
It’s Your love
Your love
all I ever needed is Your love

You know the effort I have given
And you know exactly what it cost
And though my innocence was taken
Not everything is lost
Not everything is lost nooooo

But Your love
Your love
The only thing that matters is Your love
Your love is all I have to give
Your love is enough to light up the darkness
It’s Your love
Your love
all I ever needed is Your love

You’re the hope in the morning
You’re the light when the night is falling
You’re the song when my heart is singing
it’s Your love
You’re the eyes to the blind man
You’re the feet to the lame man walking
You’re the sound of the people singing
It’s Your love

But Your love
Your love
The only thing that matters is Your love
Your love is all I have to give
Your love is enough to light up the darkness
It’s Your love
Your love
all I ever needed is Your love

But Your love
(Your love is all that I needed)
The only thing that matters is Your love
Your love is all I have to give
Your love is enough to light up the darkness
(Your love is all that I needed)
It’s Your love
Your love
It’s all I ever needed

            I felt like God was giving me confirmation that he saw me trying, and he saw me struggling.  He wasn’t calling me dramatic or a brat; he wasn’t even shaming me for my lack of faith or trust.  I wasn’t being punished for my questioning his existence.    I felt like he was telling me that he understood why, and that he held no anger towards me for my actions or thoughts; instead he grieved for the wounds that my heart had sustained.  He saw me as beautiful and knew me to be deeply wounded.  I had read the verse psalm 56:8 the night before “You have collected all my tears in your bottle. You have recorded each one in your book.”  The night I read that verse it felt condemning to me I received no comfort from it.  I felt like the tears that I usually shed were out of anger or shame in being caught. All I needed was for him to record all of those in a book.  However, that day, I felt like he was telling me that the hurts caused by people as well as the self-inflicted wounds and the sheer exhaustion from trying were all processed by him as legitimate wounds.  He knew what I needed from him, but he began to show me that there wasn’t anything that I could do to get it, or to earn it.  He knew the effort I had given, And he knew exactly what it cost; He wasn’t requiring me to climb a mountain.

I think that I am mostly a practical thinker so I believe he speaks to me using mostly practical applications.  One evening while making dinner for the kids and I, Everett came into the kitchen a little confused.  He said that “they made the heart all wrong.”  I kind of brushed it off because I had no idea what he was talking about.  I sent Everett back into the living room to play with Amara so that I could finish dinner in peace.  However shortly after that a fight broke out between Everett and Amara that I had to break up.  Then much to my horror I saw that what I had thought was the local evening news was actually an open heart surgery being broadcast on the TV.  Then Everett said “look they didn’t make the heart right.”  Sure enough they weren’t holding a sweetheart.  Later that night I started to think about it.  First I laughed at how Everett’s only concern was the shape of the heart and not that he saw them cut and then split open a chest cavity or all of the blood dripping everywhere.  Then I felt like God started walking me through the process of an open heart surgery.  I once viewed a little bit of a knee replacement surgery; it was completely brutal, I felt like God started to bring that to my mind and then started to contrast that with a heart surgery.

He started by showing me how one has to prepare for the surgery.  There are times when the patient is just not strong enough to even attempt it.  There might be a significant amount of work that needs to be done by either you or health care professionals to get you into a healthy enough condition where you can even handle a surgery.  So you have to be in a state of relative health in order to even attempt one.  There are lots of tests that will determine whether or not a person can handle it, this takes a bit of time.  Now comes the painful part, cutting through the skin and muscle and then a separate tool to cut through the sternum and then yet another tool to split open the chest; ouch.   That part is messy, brutal and yes incredibly painful.     After that comes the delicate part; the mending of the heart.  This part takes time and concentration; it is very sensitive and delicate work.  After the heart is repaired one could imagine that everyone’s breath is held as the heart is shocked into starting again.  The relief that must be felt as its independent beat speaks of the success of the surgery.   Now it is time to put all of the pieces back together.  I imagine that there is a lot pulling and tugging to bring all of the bits and pieces back together where they belong.  I have worked with many patients after heart surgery and man, they are usually in a lot of pain.  They spend weeks gripping a pillow correctly shaped heart to their chest to guard against the pain that accompanies any movement.  The thing that God showed me at this point, was that although these patients are in a significant amount of pain for a significant amount of time; this pain is completely different from the pain that led to the need of the surgery.  The initial pain was a symptom that “something was wrong.”  This pain provided the evidence of illness and damage for which the remedy required the surgery.  That initial pain is no longer there.  Now it is just the incision and the chest that hurts.  Yes, the incision from the surgery will leave quite the scar; but, the scar and the pain left from the surgery now serves as the evidence and the reminder that you have been healed. 

                Up until very recently there was nothing that connected these concepts for me.  Yes, I felt like they were profound and definitely thought provoking, but there was nothing that anchored them to me.  I still felt lost and still felt just as compelled to keep all of my plates it the air. 

                It is amazing to me that now years later I have been given a complete sense of peace.  I have no hesitation at all in expressing the truth of this journey and the events that have lead up to it; neither do I feel that the physical, emotional or even spiritual outcomes of these events will in anyway diminish the miracle that was provided here.   I don’t feel weighted down by any shame or guilt. I have no compulsion to keep anything in the air.  I am not under any delusion that Greg and I are out of the storm; however, I do feel calm and have a peace about it.  I feel a freedom in Christ to share these things; there hasn’t been any awkwardness or embarrassment that has attached itself to me.  I have been able to share the events and the accompanying emotions just as they were given to me and have felt no compulsion to hide bits of the truth less I hurt someone’s feelings or embarrass myself.   This is freedom!

The years of hurt and pain leading up to this were simply evidence of my brokenness and damage.  I believe that my refusal to pretend (although at times it manifested itself in disobedience) made it easier to identify and made my heart more accessible.  I believe four years ago the surgery started.  I met my mentor who was preparing me by speaking truth into my brokenness.  This was strengthening me for the surgery.   I remember the first major cut into my flesh was Christmas.  It was a pain like I had never experienced before.  I believe that the times He spoke to me were the times when he was delicately and tenderly handling my heart.  He restarted it during our move. Although it beat weakly it still spoke of a change.  The recent pain experienced by Greg’s original prognosis was the tugging of the sutures as God was pulling the bits of flesh together.  Now I only have healing pains, that yes hurt incredibly at times, but these pains now speak of my healing and no longer of that brokenness.   I spoke of C. S. Lewis before and I wonder if this is how it felt when, that which you know becomes that which you believe?   (Then one day while out for a ride, it happened.  What you ask?    He understood something that he never had understood before.  God!)

  Over the last several days I have watched Greg gradually sink back to where he had started and I began to feel discouraged.  At first I thought that he was getting nervous about the surgery.  Greg’s surgeon has published an amazing amount of articles on exactly what Greg has.  While reading them, Greg discovered that some of his symptoms might take as long as a year to dissipate or, worst yet, it is possible that they will be permanent.  I thought this might be the reason Greg started to withdraw.  Or maybe the fact that some of the phone calls, explaining Greg’s condition and our current circumstances, went a bit rough.  Greg takes things like that really hard, but even that didn’t seem to explain what was going on. 

Finally I got a little rough with him and I demanded why he had pulled away when I felt like we were making so much progress.  His last post will explain his current state of mind.  I see him asking my same questions on whether or not God cares or if he will be adequate enough for him.  I began getting angry with God.  I thought He meant to fix us but instead, Greg was falling behind.  It felt like a trick, I was tired of doing all of the work, but it looked like once again I was going to have to.  This is when that movie quote came to me, “It’s always gonna be something with you isn’t it Joe.”  I began to realize that I had nothing to do with Greg’s diagnosis, his Doctor, his job or even the peace that was being extended to me now; so why did I think that I was going to be the healer for Greg and why did I doubt God’s capability to give Greg the same peace in his time.  In one night’s time Greg for the first time dropped some of his walls and started to examine the ruins that they had protected.  This is the first step and it was a painful step for him, but God is faithful and I believe him to be more than adequate.  I read Greg’s post in awe; I have been waiting for this for ten years.  Greg and I were finally able to openly and honestly communicate together with both of our defenses down.

There is a scene in Joe vs. the volcano when Joe is witnessing a full moon rise on the ocean.  Joe is terribly sleep deprived and severally dehydrated but, when he sees the moon begin to rise, he struggles repeatedly, trying to get to his feet.  Although he can barely stand he begins to raise his arms up towards the rising moon in a state of awe he says “dear God, whose name I do not know, thank you for my life.  I forgotten how BIG…thank you… thank you for my life, thank you for my life.” 

Our journey is far from over and I know enough now that Greg’s surgery on the 11^th isn’t our finish line.  But I have witnessed how Big God is and I am just so thankful for this time in our lives.