“LARONDA, I AM YOUR FATHER”

Have you heard of the phenomenon known as “The Mandela Effect”? It’s named for Nelson Mandela, whose death in prison had become a widely accepted truth in spite of the fact that he was, in fact, very much alive. The Mandela Effect refers to a widely accepted belief that something that did not happen or that something happened differently from the way it actually happened. For example, many people – probably those who did not actually see Star Wars – would tell you that Darth Vader said to Luke Skywalker, “Luke, I am your father” when he actually said, “No. I am your father.”

The Mandela Effect has absolutely nothing to do with this post.

But today I am spending time alone with my Father. I need to because right now, I feel like my life is full of impossibilities, and I need to spend more time with the way maker than I do with the obstacles in my way.

For the past week, I’ve been in significantly more pain than usual, which is already a lot. In addition to the bone-on-bone pain of my permanently dislocated shoulder creating a new place to call home and the accompanying nerve and muscle pain, other bones and muscles are uncomfortably adjusting to my shoulder’s re-location, and they are clearly displeased with the imposition.

The tendinitis in my left hip is getting progressively worse, and I remember all too well the last time this happened because I spent nine months in agony, only able to sleep in my recliner at night – all to get through a 40 hour work week. And most recently, the back muscles on my right side painfully seize up each time I set down my right foot, complementing the grinding pain in my knee. For those of you playing at home, that’s fifty percent of my steps. ūüôā Then I have the the gnawing, unrelenting nerve pain that goes with spinal stenosis spreading through the bottom half of my body. And I may have a hangnail.

And?

And I’ve been trying to work 40 hours a week because we need the money. Even on the days that everything in me cries, “I can’t.” Last night, I couldn’t even lay in bed without my back muscles protesting. That’s when I decided to text my boss that I would not be at work today. I’m worn and exhausted. The pain won’t be any less, but at least I don’t have to feel the pressure of pressing through.¬†Today, I really can’t!

So I’m spending the day with my Father. And a kitten who likes to suckle on my clothes.

I just wish God would give me a small encouraging glimpse of what’s ahead, of where I’m supposed to be or what I will be doing. I could use some tangible hope. To be honest, my preference would be to have the time to write until something really good ends up on paper.

I was delighting myself in this possibility as I got ready for bed. I got out of the straight jacket we call a bra and into the comfort of a well worn nightgown, then I brushed my teeth. When I finally turned off the light and pulled the covers over me, I opened an app from Morgan Harper Nichols and found this:

74905535_2878796148797801_3271987638931816448_nYes! My spirit sang for joy at the thought that this was God’s answer. I was meant to be in bed, warm and free from the constraints of a bra! Praise God! I still hurt, but I could deal that thorn as long as I could deal with it in bed.

But I’m not foolish enough to believe this is the good plan God has for me. (Truly, I’m not!) But as I joke about it today, sitting in a quiet house with a perfectly content kitten sleeping on me, a heating pad warming my back, I think there may be an answer there for me beneath the sarcastic humor.

Maybe this is closer to the truth of where I’m meant to be:

6ccc7c70edb34738abce5fe4ae53dbc3Now may the God of peace, who through the blood of the eternal covenant brought back from the dead our Lord Jesus, that great Shepherd of the sheep,¬†equip you with everything good for doing his will, and may he work in us what is pleasing to him, through Jesus Christ, to whom be glory for ever and ever. Amen.” Hebrews 13:20-21 (NIV)

Now that is appealing! Resting comfortably in my Father’s arms, wrapped in his provision and protection, wanting for nothing because he knows what I need. He is the good Father who delights in me and is the giver of good things. He has a good plan for me and goes ahead of me to make the path straight, lighting the path with his Word so I have no reason to stumble.

I really have no reason to worry about my future because the same powerful, steady hands that hold me up when I’m weak are same hands that gently hold me close to his side now. I never knew the comfort of a father’s reassuring embrace, but I’m beginning to believe that it wouldn’t hold a candle to the peace I feel spending time with him today. My Father is a good father. He knows me. He sees me. He loves me. And he’s got this!

I may wait, but like C. S. Lewis once said…img_e9609_400x.jpeg

 

AND STILL I RISE

Getting up¬†can be a much bigger deal than we think, really. Essentially, the physical act of getting up is a matter of defying gravity, isn’t it? When I think of it that way, it seems like a really big deal! We seldom think of it, though, because we do it all day long – we rise from bed, from¬†a chair, from the floor. Toddlers are forever getting back up!

So when do we become conscious of the mechanics of getting up, of rising?

When it gets hard and takes more strength than we think we have¬†– in the way Andra Day sings about in¬†“I’ll Rise Up.”

Age, long hours and illness can make it a physical challenge to get back up. Anxiety, depression, high expectations, loss, and disappointment can make it an emotional challenge.img_4464

But sometimes there is something especially inspirational and profound in getting back up again. Our lives aren’t always as dramatic as a boxer’s, where a win is dependent upon getting up after being knocked down for the count while “Eye of the Tiger” plays in the background, but rising can be just as challenging and every bit as vital. And equally powerful

Our story may not be as beautifully worded as Maya Angelou’s poem “Still I Rise”, but it’s¬†inspiritational just the same. After all, it’s our story!

As I’ve mentioned before, I belong to two different Facebook groups – one for survivors of aortic dissections, which I joined after surviving my own ascending aortic dissection, and one for survivors of CPTSD/PTSD. I’ve been fascinated by how much they¬†overlap. Those in the group dealing with health¬†issues are also dealing with some serious emotional challenges,¬† and those in the group dealing with emotional issues are also dealing with their share of health issues.¬†What they seem to share most is a sense¬†being alone and feeling quite weary.

So many members of these two groups feel like no one really “gets” their struggle, and they are aware that their recovery, their moving forward, is in fact an individual effort. Others can sympathize, empathize, encourage and¬†support, but the journey of getting back up¬†is ultimately their own.

Still, I know those feelings aren’t unique to these groups. I don’t think any of us have gotten through life without getting knocked down a time or two. Some of us come from a long line of people who have been knocked down and have fought hard to rise up. Some of us have gone through seasons of¬†challenge¬†in spite of every privilege and benefit the world has afforded us. Difficulty is no respecter of wealth, beauty, education, age, gender or ethnicity.

The apostle Peter knew a bit about difficulties, and yet he passed on this promise:

And after you have suffered a little while, the God of all grace, who has called you to his eternal glory in Christ, will himself restore, confirm, strengthen, and establish you. To him be the dominion forever and ever. Amen.  1 Peter 5:10-11

How could he be so certain of God’s grace? Because he’d experienced it. Jesus still loved him and called him after Peter denied knowing him. Jesus pulled him from the roaring waves the moment Peter cried out for help.

Peter is telling us that, yes, we will suffer. But! By the grace of God, we can rise up…again and again and again.LBG2015Thrill-of-hope-01.jpg

But even before that, Jesus had been born Emmanuel, God with us. That was God’s descent. And how glorious His rising was! In His descent, the weary¬†– like you and me – were given hope. In his rising, we were redeemed. It is by His grace and the strength it affords us that we can always rise again. God has plans for you, fighter. You may be down, but don’t you dare stay down!

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