Close Enough to Become Infected

I had been waiting to see the hairdresser for months. I had been recovering from neck surgery and the ability to lay back in a sink was completely out of the question. In the meantime, the gray hair that I had so covertly managed to conceal was beginning to come to light. I had also just received the news that I was going to become a grandmother and its uprising was really detrimental to my overall emotional health. That was it, pain or no pain, I called my hairdresser. “Liz, it’s a 911, I need bleach as soon as possible”. Unfortunately, she could not get me an appointment for two more weeks.

The day finally arrived. I was ready to rid myself of my obvious aging and in turn feel like a brand new younger, woman. I sang a happy tune as I drove to the salon, “Were not gonna take it, No, Were not gonna take it…Were not going take (gray hair) anymore.” Yes, I was rebelling against the gray, against my age, against being called “Granny”. I was going to end this little charade, TODAY!
My happy tune was being quietly sung in my head as she mixed the beautiful horrid smelling solution. She began by parting my hair on the left side and lifting the solution toward the row of gray, I smiled from ear to ear. Suddenly she stopped dead in her tracks and laid down the magical brush. I looked at her eyes that appeared to become hard focused on my scalp.
“What’s wrong”, I asked.
“Hold on a minute, don’t freak out just yet, but…”,she began to reply.
“I know it is a lot of gray, but my goodness it’s not that bad, is it”, I asked sheepishly.
“Oh goodness, Heidi, I don’t know how to tell you this”.
“Tell me what”, I interrupted.
“You got lice”, she stated with a sympathetic tone.
“I got WHAT” I said, jumping out of the chair.
“You got”, she started.
“LICE”, I stated more as a question than an answer. “How in the world did I get lice?”
“Heidi, you minister in the Children’s Church and the prison.” “One of the kids or the women must have had it.” “Unfortunately, now you got it too.” “You are always hugging everyone”. “How many of the women at the prison are crying on your shoulder”? “How many of the kids always sit on your lap during service”, She went on trying to make me feel better. None of her efforts seemed to help me stop from freaking out. I got up from the chair grabbed my purse.
“Just wash tonight with the medicated shampoo and come back tomorrow”, she offered.
“Yeah, I’ll be back”. I walked out and sat in my car and cried.

Everything in my life lately seems to be falling apart. If I began to tell you the things that have been happening to me on a daily basis it would blow your mind. In fact, I am sure if we were all on a boat, someone would have thrown me overboard by now. More embarrassing was the phone calls that I needed to make when I returned home. I had to call all of the parents at the church and tell them that I had lice and they needed to check their children.
Yet, as in all the joys and sorrows and disgusting experiences we go through, God has taught me a powerful lesson.

As embarrassing as the situation may have been, as angry as I may have become because my plans were ruined, God was smiling down on me. Not laughing at me, but smiling at me. Did you ever have the pleasure of knowing you were in a place where God was smiling down on you? As I sat there huffing and puffing in my car, (scratching my head) I felt the presence of God. What an unusual thing to happen in such a minor situation. I mean it is not like earlier in the week when the cardiologist told me that there was something wrong with my daughter’s heart or the gang war broke out at her school and she’d been in the middle of it. No, I found the peace of God surrounding me now, in this place, with this problem.
I heard God speaking above my outrageous self-pity bantering. “You resemble my love”. I heard Him speak.
I stopped complaining now to tune in to the Holy Spirit. How in the world could I resemble Your love in this mood, are You kidding?
“You allow yourself close enough to become infected”.

I closed my eyes and basked in the brief moment that I felt “hugged by God”. It was a beautiful place that I never wanted to depart from. But I knew I could not stay…For I… had hair to wash:)

So often our relationship within the church becomes sterile. Recently, I had witnessed more love among friends in a bar then in the walls of the church. Now, before you all go jumping into the judge’s chambers allow me to explain that I was attending a dinner party for a close relative’s birthday. The conversations that took place among the relative and his friends caused me great pain. At the time, I did not understand what it was I was longing for. It was not the drinks that they shared but something else that seemed to be greatly lacking in my life. True relationships.

The dinner conversation was full of compassion for one another, concern for their personal dilemmas and appreciation for their friendship. It was genuine. It was not obligatory conversation, it was not superficial conversation…it was just true conversation. I began to question the relationships I had with the people that I had been partnering with in ministry for the past ten years. We are close, but not close enough to become infected. I mean we talk, if it involves the ministry, but we don’t get close enough to be fully affected by each other’s lives. We don’t know what the other is going through because it is not spoken of, we don’t care enough to question because we don’t have the time to be bothered. Our relationships are for show, they are required, they are what we “are supposed to do”.

I, however, am not satisfied with the placebo relationships I find myself in….I want more than a substitute…I want the real deal. I don’t want to sugarcoat my life with what is appeasing to anyone. I just want to be me, without the fear of judgment or rejection.
The genuine relationships I do find are not with those I minister with but those I minister to.

I can be real with those I am ministering too. They are void of hypocrisy, they love me for my love of God, they care about my struggles, they pray for my pain…they have not yet been religionized. This is why I felt God smiling down on my that day, I was willing to lend a shoulder to a crying inmate. I was willing to hold the child who comes to church unshowered with matted hair and dirty clothes. I was not afraid to hold the hands of those dying from aids and wipe the sweat from their faces with the sleeve of my shirt. I was close to them, close enough to become infected by their diseases. I was close enough to be moved to pray on behalf of their needs. I was in love with them and their desires to be close to the one I loved. This is what makes God smile. When we are willing to lay down our lives for one another, set aside our comfort, safety, our cleanliness in order to meet the needs of His children. This is the place he has called us to walk. But not just with those who are lost, it is time that the church comes together and is willing to become infected by the lives of those who walk with them.

Toll Road

Having spent most of my life geographically sheltered...I find that at 37 years old I am somewhat directional dyslexic. You see I discovered this truth about myself last week as I was attempting to get home from the Doctor's office. The same doctor's office that I have been traveling to and from for the past 7 years.

It was getting late, we had been at the doctors office this day longer than expected. Jordan had to get to her dance practice and time was of the essence. So I decided that I would take a "short cut". Now that I am all grown up and everything in terms of highway driving, I decided that the fastest way home was the highway. I could jump on the highway and be home five minutes faster.

I have two choices, East or West...hmmmm....they both sounded so good. I chose East. A few minutes into the drive I realized that the exit I probably wanted to take was flashing past the passenger window. "Just play it cool", I told myself. Don't let Jordan know that I missed our exit. I would just get off at the next exit and act as if nothing was wrong. As I pull onto the off ramp I notice a sign, TOLL ROAD. "Oh, this is not going to be good". I pull up to the ticket both, still playing it cool, I take out a ticket as if this what I meant to do.
Jordan finally notices that something is seriously wrong. "Mom, where are we going".
"Home", I reassured her.
"Uhh, I don't ever remember us having to get a ticket", she says.
"That's because we are taking a different route", I said defending my lie.
"Mom, we are lost aren't we", she stated matter-of-factly.
"Okay, yes I got off at the wrong exit", I answered as I took the ramp towards Scranton. (Which I learned shortly was the second mistake).
"Just do me a favor plug in that GPS and type in our address I have to see where the next exit is."
Jordan finishes plugging in our address and finally the robotic voice comes to life..."Proceed 16 miles".
Oh, Lord. This was going to be a long ride. We traveled up and down the mountains and at one point even through a mountain; twice. My daughter sat laughing in tears while I fumed the highways. I just wanted to get home.

Two more wrong turns and two tolls (totaling $3.75) later, what should have taken me ten minutes ended up taking me one hour and forty-five minutes to accomplish.
As I look back, all I could think of was, thank God I had a GPS, a few dollar bills and a full tank of gas or this could have ended much differently.

You know that day I was so frustrated with myself. All the years I have been driving in the same city and I still get lost all the time. (Which is why my husband bought me the GPS in the first place). I hate that feeling of driving down the highway and everything looks strange, exit signs for towns I have never heard of, all while driving at a high rate of speed. I always give way to panic when I am in this place. I just wanted to get home and without the aid of that GPS I would never have found my way there. I was also disturbed by this encounter as I realized that driving is not the only place that leaves me feeling lost, unsure and panicked. I have also been feeling this way spiritually.

I try to act as if I know my way home with God. At times I can be confident of his call and his leading. I will jump onto the highway and go without forethought. Sometime later, I find myself lost on a highway unsure of which direction I am facing. It is always at times like now, when I have so many distractions in my life. I don't have time to plug in the GPS, I don't have time to listen for the leading and direction of the Holy Spirit. I take a wrong turn on my own hunch, in the hopes that the right exit will be just ahead. Then I am suprised when that decision takes me even further away from home then I expected. I feel panicked, I hate being lost, I just want to get home.

The wrong turn for me is usually when I get so caught up in the work of God that I don't take time for a relationship with God. I get so busy traveling down the road of ministry...65 mph, low on gas, bright orange warning signs a blur in my rear view mirrors and no money to pay the tolls that will be required as a result of my error. Eventually, I reach a dead end, run out of gas or spend everything I have left. Then and only then do I know what I need to do.
I plug back into the voice of the one who can lead me. I allow the tolls to serve as a reminder for my waywardness. I make sure that I am fueled by the power of the Holy Spirit and not myself. I do want to get home one day but not because I am a good driver but because I get navigate His direction well.

Just Keep Walking

John 5:6 "Do you want to get well?"

I woke up drugged and confused following my surgery where they used a piece of bone from my hip to fuse the bone in my neck. The only thing on my mind...I was thirsty. What did I have to do to get something to drink around here, anyway? Finally, the nurse came in and brought me a tall glass of ice cold water. It was the most refreshing water I had ever tasted. Drinking it down like a camel in the desert who just happened upon an oasis...I felt refreshed. Now I was ready to enter into my drug induced coma and sleep until my discharge tomorrow. The nurse came back into my room, startling me from my daze. She was on a mission. "Let's go, it is time for you to get out of bed. You need to walk", she instructed. "No, no, no. Sleep. I just want to sleep." I pouted like a small child on a school morning. "Well", she said, "do you want to get well". "I feel great", I assured her as I slowly began the slow process of trying to sit up. Grabbing my arms she lifted me to a seated position. Gently she coached me, "okay, now on the count of three I am going to help you stand". I rolled my eyes as she counted and then the lift. As the pressure of my weight fell onto my hip I let out a shout of agony. The morphine was a long lost friend, the reality of my condition was as clear as day. "I can't do it", I cried. "Yes you can, if you want to heal you gotta walk", she insisted. I tried taking a small step and collapsed into her arms. "It's okay", she encouraged, "I got you and I will not let you fall". I took another step, and fell again. It took me 5 minutes to reach the bathroom that was just a few steps from my bed...ten minutes round trip. The doctor came in later to inform me that first thing in the morning the physical therapist would be in to teach me how to get out of bed on my own and how to walk up the stairs unassisted. I, of course, asked if drugs would be invovled. He assured me there would be and that I could not leave the hospital until I could walk on my own. You know that, that was the only convincing I needed. I was determined to scale those steps and be done with this place. Secrectly, I knew that I would receive more sympathy at home. My family would not be so cruel as to make me get up and walk around while I was in pain. They would be willing to cater to my every demand. So through the pain and agony I walked and much to my relief, I was finally able to leave that place behind. The doctor, it turns out, was right. The more I walked, the better my leg healed. And that family I thought would enable my disability, well, they made me walk too. I walked with a cane for awhile. Now I walk with a slight limp. There is still much pain 2 months later but everyday it gets a little easier.

As I write this story I can't help but think of the story of the man outside the Sheep Gate who laid by the pool called Bethesda. He laid there for 38 years claiming he could not get well because everyone beat him to the pool. Jesus approaches him and says "Do you want to get well"? After the man gives a list of excuses for not getting well. Jesus responds with, "Get up! Pick up your mat and walk."

So many times we find excuses for lying in pity. We even use our weaknesses to summon sympathatic listens willing to enable our dysfunction. But the time has got to come for us to Get Up....Take up that Mat...and Walk. How long will we lay in our excuses...38 years?

Getting up will require us to take a stand against our fears, our worries, our past pains, our insecurites and every one who says we should stay down.
Picking up our mat is also necessary, it says that we refuse to run back to this comfortable place no matter how hard it is to walk.
Walking...ahhh...I can tell you that this is the hardest part. Many times we stand, we hold our mat but we never leave that place behind. You have to walk....walk until you find the strength to run. Don't look back. Don't worry if you fall just get back up and walk.

The physical pain I experienced after my surgery was nothing compared to some of the places that God has called me to walk through. In the past year I have walked through so many trials with much fear. I wanted at times to run back to the places that had been comfortable, revert to the external pleasures that could bring me some peace, if only temporary. I wanted to lay by the pool and someone to come along and carry me to the water so I could find the strength to walk. Forget this walk with God it is just too hard. I stopped working on my ministry credentials and was ready to quit altogether. I was even tempted to throw out the manuscript of the book I spent a year writing before it even gets published. I was tired and in great pain. Yet, through it all I can hear the voice of the Holy Spirit. "You will never leave this place unless you get out of bed and walk". "Just Keep Walking". Everyday, as I continue to walk through the pain of my circumstances, with all of my life falling down around me, I walk on and with each step it gets a little easier. The great thing about walking with God through it all is that I never have to fear that the pain will be to much because I know that if I get weary...He will be there to catch me. "Don't worry, I got you and I will not let you fall."

Grip of Fear

The afternoon of the crash I was waging war against one of the most depressing times of my life. I had sent a text to my husband an hour prior and in no uncertain terms stated my lack of luster for life. I cried as I drove home for a much needed lunch break in hopes of regaining the stamina to return and finish my assigned tasks. I sat quietly on my sofa, mentally coaching myself and whispering the only prayer I could muster..."Please God, help me". I felt nothing, emptiness enveloped me like a cold blanket. Reluctantly, I rose up from my short respite to head back to work. Little did I know what was waiting for me just a few minutes down the road. I was approaching an intersection when I seen another car heading from the right. He was traveling at a high rate of speed and from the looks of it he had no intention of stopping. Sure enough he came right through the stop sign. Time seemed to stand still for the brief seconds I had to react. I gripped the steering wheel with everything I had in me. But it was too late, I was going to hit him head first and there was nothing I could do to stop it. I seen just a blurred profile of the driver and then BANG...I hit him so hard my truck lifted up off the ground and landed sideways into oncoming traffic. I sat dazed and confused unsure of where I was. Adreniline coursed through my veins and I jumped from my car and ran to the other driver who I believed at this point I had killed. The impact was so hard I thought there was no way he could have survived. As I came up to the car, he was miraculously getting out....without even a scratch. It wasn't until later that day that I realized that something was wrong. Pain shot through my neck and I could barely move it. Months of physical therapy, followed by neck and hip surgery and more months of recovery. Spinal cord complications, blacking out, EMTS, emergency room visits, detoxing from narcotics, depression, anger, loss of sleep, loss of appetite, neckbraces, canes etc. In one brief moment my life was changed. It has been 9 months since the accident and still I am recovering.

It turns out the injury was a result of my grip of fear. Allow me to explain, I was holding the steering wheel so tight that I even broke my wedding band in half. They said if I would not have tensed up...I most likely would have walked away uninjured like my fellow driver who was oblivous to the approaching danger. I was crippled by fear. The same fear that crippled me with depression.I always want to be in control of my life. Although I routinely ask for God's help or the help of others, I still want to take the steering wheel. Help me....but let me drive. I want to trust God but what if.....what if....what if He fails?
It took me months of having to depend on others to complete the simpilest tasks for me. Finally, I realized how much I had keep God and others at a distance. I had to be stripped of my dignity, pride, and self reliance in order for me to reach a place of surrender! I can't do this alone! And guess what...for the first time....it's okay.

Don't Let Me Go

It was time again for our family vacation to OC Maryland. This time we were going with our extended family. Everyday it seemed we packed up the entire contents of our hotel and set out to the sandy beaches. {I am sure you can relate to the annoying job of setting up all the junk you thought that you just might need.}
After we finally got settled, I sat down to relax from the exhausting task. I watched as each of my family memebers douched themselves in suntan oil and fixed their chairs to be directly in line with the sun. My nieces busied themselves digging in the sand oblivious to horrific heat and scratchy particles that covered them. I on the otherhand, sat quietly under my umbrella, book in hand with no plans of moving from the spot that I had settled in.
"Come on Mom", my kids teased. They were finally lubed and ready to run and dive into the pounding waves that beckoned them. "I am fine here", I told them. They laughed and ran off. They know me well enough to know that I am terrified of the water. I would jump out of an airplane before I would dive from a boat into the ocean. Okay, so I am a control freak...I know you are analyzing me right now I can feel it. Anyway, you are right, I do not like or trust that which I cannot see. The ocean is a scary place, it is unpredictable and therefore unsafe. No, I was fine right where I was at.
Then there were flies. This year it just so happened that some sort of "Exodus like" plague was sweeping across the shores in Maryland. Giant horse flies began biting us so badly that the only means of releif was...yes....go into the water. UGH!
So I went out....to my ankles....then my knees...eventually even my waist. After awhile I finally began to relax in the water. It was not as scary as I had imagined and okay I admit it was even (a little) fun.
My Sister-in-Law was standing with me, holding my two year old niece. She became hot and wanted to swim out a little further and cool off. She asked me to hold my niece for just a few minutes while she cooled off.
I held my niece who was still cranky from being bitten by the flies, and like me a little unsure of the water. She whined as I held her. "Don't worry, sweetheart, I got you and I promise I will not let you go". I pointed to the shore and we laughed as I joked that those stupid flies can't catch us out here.
That was when I noticed. There had seemed to be a long pause between waves and that could mean only one thing. I turned around slowly and behind me was a building wave twice the size of me ready to pound us. There was noting I could do, no where I could run. I could not even prepare to dive through it as I held this little girl in my arms. Instead, I turned my back to the wave to shield her from the blow, wrapped my arms tight around her with all of my strength while placing my hand over her mouth. "Please God, no matter what happens help me not to let go of her", I screamed in my head. We were going to get hit, there was no way out.
The wave hit hard tossing and turning us over in the water. It was no longer possible to tell which way was up. I held her tighter afraid that the mighty undertow would rip her from my grip. I needed a miracle and fast.
Just then I heard someone shouting our names and they seemed to be close by. I took my niece and thrust her toward what seemed to be light and the place from which the voice was coming. My niece was grabbed out of my hands by her mother. Just as I tried to get myself back up, another wave crashes over me, the undertow pulling me out to sea. Now that my niece was safe, I was too tired to fight it off I would let it take me.
I felt a hand grab my wrist and with one pull my sister in law yanked me up out of the water. I lay on the shore, exhausted and shaking from the terrifying ordeal. I crawled back to my chair under the umbrella, welcoming the flies that came to feast. I had fought the good fight and lived to tell about it...that was enough "vacationing" for me.

As I look back on the day (now that the fear has subsided). I realize that I had been given a beautiful picture of my Father's love. You see I had been going through I rough patch in my life. I was hurting deeply and could not understand why I was going through some of the problems I faced. Yet, through all of the pain....I heard that peaceful voice whispering "Don't worry, I got you and I promise to not let you go". Sometimes we have troubles no matter how strong we are in the Lord. We all have battles to fight, mountains to climb and waves that crash over us in a fury. But, it is during these times that our Father embraces us, he turns his back to the full force of impact to cover and sheild us. He covers our mouths so we cannot drown beneath it and all the while he holds on to us and he will not let go...no matter what.

Can you spare some change?

I walked through the busy streets of Chicago....alone. My eyes trying to take in all of it's beautifully designed structures. I loved the backdrop....reminding me of how much of this world I had yet to explore. I was on a business trip and was ready to take in all I could in the next 5 days between seminars. I learned by the end of the first day as I went back empty handed to my 5 star hotel to order room service that carrying money with me would be detrimental to my stay.
Homelessness, in this city was heartwrenchingly overwelming and I knew myself well enough to believe that I would give away all of my spending money by the end of the next day if I did not watch myself. I decided the next night to give myself an "allowance". I would carry no more than a few dollars a day for the "needy" and when it was gone...that was all I would give.
The next day I was standing on a corner waiting for a light to change before I could safely cross the dangerously busy traffic. Behind me a wheelchair bound man sat crying loudly and shaking his seemingly empty can..."Change", "Change". His cry was desperate and I had already given away my "allowance" to others who were in need. I tried to ignore him and prayed that the light would "Change" and quickly. The harder I ignored him the louder he became...."CHANGE" "Can you spare some CHANGE". Tears began to stream down my face, but I did not want to give anymore then I already had.
The light apparently was broken, minutes seemed like hours and the man's cries would not let up. "Don't do it, the voice inside me pleaded", "You have already given your share". Just then he screamed out the word once more...this time in what seemed a bone chilling choir. I broke...I couldn't take it no more?....I reached down into my pocket and pulled out the last of everything that I had. I placed it into his can. The minute I let go the light changed and I was free to proceed.
As I walked back to the hotel, I wept as I thought about this man. Somehow it was not just the man himself that was haunting me but his words...."Change, Change, Change...Can you spare some change?" Deep within my spirit, I turned his words over and over. Then it hit me. Change. Could I spare some change? So often I go about my life as if the small amount of sacrifices I make for God are enough to fulfill my "duties". I regulate the amount I am willing to invest in our relationship. I give God what I want and when I want. When He asks for the things I am hiding in my "other pocket" I try to ignore, avoid or escape His cries. God does not want some of us....He desires ALL of us.
I never stop asking God for the things that I need. I am but a beggar, shouting, no demanding my needs, my desires and my dreams be met. But I never stop, wait and listen to the voice of God telling me what He needs or He desires for my life. I heard the question once again, whispering gently to my soul...Can you spare some change. Tonight, I was ready, I was humbled. I emptied all my pockets before the Lord in complete submission. I am ready and willing to give you everything I have been holding back.
Oh please Father..."Can you spare some change" for a fool like me?