Blessings Abound

Have you ever stopped to consider how often the blessings of God grace your life? How everything, even the simplest of things, has been touched by His hand?

Have you stopped to study the intricacy of a single bloom?

Or stood silently in awe as a great egret took flight?

Or marveled at the glow of the approaching sunset? God can even take LA’s pollution and make it beautiful.

These are but a few outward examples of His love for us. For He also gave us friendship and love, laughter and tears, compassion and forgiveness.

The blessings in my own life are too numerous to count. All day long, I praise His Holy Name for giving me glimpses of heaven.

All of this, I witness and find joy in, not in spite of my pain and illness, but because of it. For through my struggles, He has taught me much, and I am ever grateful.

Where can you find blessings today?

Love,

Jenni and Ken

Heavenly Joy

There are times in our lives when nothing seems to go right. There are also times when it seems nothing can go wrong. We have all had both kinds of days. When we are in the former, our psyche, our very soul, seems to get beaten down by all the pressures, stresses, and negatives of life.

Then there are those days when all goes joyously far beyond our wildest  dreams and expectations. These are the days we all crave. We get a sort of high. Our smiles become contagious, and we cannot help but be good to one another, just for the shear pleasure of seeing another person smile.

I crave these days just as much as the next person, but with my illness, I oftentimes must work the process in reverse. My days don’t often go beyond my wildest dreams (though sometimes they do), yet I can still feel that rush, that soul healing joy I desperately crave, by first giving and smiling and loving on others.

This is one of the secrets to my joy. Listen closely, now. It lightens the burden on my soul when I give freely of my worldly, oftentimes cherished, belongings.

Have I lost you? Let me elaborate. My physical being is a mess. I have Lyme disease, fibromyalgia, chronic fatigue, adrenal fatigue, arthritis, migraines, blah, blah, blah. The list goes on and on, unfortunately. Needless to say, I am in constant pain, and this state of constant pain puts a damper on my naturally good mood.

But the Lord is good. He has shown me how to find bits of joy amongst my pain, interspersed with my tears.

Best of all, He has shown me how to get a booster shot when I need it, to energize and heal my soul. It is as simple as giving. Donating. Even tithing (and now I hear a bunch of non-church-goers going, “ugh”). It does my soul good, knowing that something I am able to give can do so much good in someone else’s life.

Ken took a load of building supplies to the Habitat Restore Store this morning.

My heart swelled, and so did his.

Ken took an equally large load to the Salvation Army thrift store.

His smile threatened to push his ears clean off his face, as his mood soared. And mine did, too.

Even with two truckloads gone, we still had a lot to make decisions on. Then I remembered freecycle. It is a yahoo group here in the Portland area. I imagine there might be more chapters around the country. It is worth checking out. We gave away some large ticket items that we simply could not sell. Ken said he would haul them to the appropriate places for donation, but I was feeling so good, soul-wise, at this point that I suggested we list them on freecycle. Within an hour, the first large item was gone, the second is pending pickup tomorrow, and the third, well I’m waiting to hear back as to when she wants to pick it up.

My joy is overwhelming today, even though my body is riddled with pain and my stress level is through the roof.

My stress is so high because we have only a few days left here in Portland before we hit the road, and we have a ton of work to do still. Having access to this “heavenly joy” will allow me to keep on, minute by minute, keeping faith that God will get us over this hurdle. It will allow me to do what little I can to help, with a smile on my face, instead of tears and heartache for all that I cannot physically do.

I wish you this level of joy. I pray that you have instances in your life where the “pay it forward” system of living and giving will touch your heart and your soul with an over abundance of joy and gratitude.

I had a season of being on the receiving end more often than not over the past year or two, and the receiving also blossomed into wondrous joy, as I realized that others did care and did want to help this tired old soul. They lifted me up with a box of apples, boxes of pears, green beans, a car for our use for three months without charge, a hug and friendship when I needed it most, a bouquet of flowers from a neighbor for “no reason,” many homemade meals delivered hot and ready to eat, and so many other large and small blessings.

I am grateful for all the blessings we have received. And I am grateful for every one of you.

Jenni

These Hands

A few days ago, these hands fed me Chinese food, with only the use of chopsticks.

Since my early years, these hands have been able to draw and paint and create. Their abilities have always amazed me.

Through these fingers, my words flow into the computer.

These hands have held and caressed and cherished and loved many babies and wonderful people throughout my lifetime.

Yet today, these hands struggle with holding a spoon.

These hands cannot grasp a pencil, let alone a paint brush.

And every reach for a letter on this keyboard sends shooting pain through my hands and wrists.

The above words bring tears to my eyes and frustration to my heart, when I think about all I could do, if God would just release me from this pain.

Yet if I think about it, again referencing the above list, maybe my pain serves the purpose of allowing me more time to carry out the most important thing on the list, for these hands can still hold and love others, even in their current state of pain.

Thank you, Lord, for enlightening me. For, I sat down here at this computer keyboard to whine and moan about my troubles, and You showed me Your goodness and guided my hands to type what I really needed to hear this morning. I love You and how You weave Your amazing truths into my small life. Amen.

Blessings Abound

Okay, so this hasn’t been the best week for creating works of art. It is becoming more difficult. I am not lacking imagination, but I am definitely running short on supplies and money to replace them.

Darn medical bills. And other bills. I pray for my son to get a job so that things won’t be so tight, but so far no such luck. It is difficult, three adults living on one retirement income. I am thankful we are here to help my son now when he needs us most. And I am thankful he is here to help us, too. If only we didn’t need to eat so often . . .

Even so, I count my blessings daily. And they do come daily.

I prayed for less pain when doing my writing and artwork, and my best friend and her boss gave me an office chair so that I would not have to sit in an uncomfortable kitchen chair.

Our Jeep broke down. I prayed to God that I did not know what we were going to do. He answered my prayers by arranging for another good friend to lend us their second car.

I prayed more about how we would be able to afford to fix the Jeep. Yet another friend stepped in to offer his free labor and know-how. Still praying about the cost of parts, but I feel confident in the Lord’s workings.

Out of the blue, a neighbor a few houses down offered us a lug and a half of pears from his tree. He even picked them for us. I am very thankful for his generosity. Once canned, they will provide fruit for us through the winter. (That’s my son’s best friend William [another blessing] helping me sort the pears. There’s nothing wrong with our skin; it is dappled shadowing from the umbrella.)

Our neighbors in the other half of the duplex have also been a godsend. They are getting married in a few weeks, and knowing our talents, they have hired us to cook the wedding feast, design the invitations (below), and photograph the wedding. I will also be doing a family portrait for them. This could not come at a better time for us, financially.

There are so many blessings, large and small, in our lives right now. All this brings me to tears. The love we’ve been shown by friends and strangers alike, it overwhelms me.

Another blessing is that our apple tree produced its first abundant crop. From half the apples, I made three pies, and I still have the other half of the honey crisps to munch or to make more pies.

Being gluten intolerant, I made these pies with a sugar cookie crust and a crisp topping. They are amazingly tasty.

I have only managed a few finished pieces this past week, though I have been drawing and have come up with plenty of sketches to paint later, once I can replace some of my supplies.

The imagination is a wonderful thing. As I was painting yard sale signs for Ken, I asked if I could have a few of the smaller plywood boards. These, I will paint upon with acrylics. Below, Ken is adding a second coat of base paint for me. Of course I had the tough job of sanding them smooth, myself!

All the family gets in on the action.

After all the week’s work and prayers and praises, it’s no wonder Tink and I passed out last night.

Tuck Tail and Run!

Sometimes you just have the urge to follow your animal instincts.

When a smaller dog knows she is outmatched against a much larger, much angrier animal, she wisely tucks her tail and heads for safer ground. It sounds like a good choice. After all, who wants to be torn to shreds by a vicious beast?

But sometimes she (the smaller dog) must stand her ground against that meanie. If she has pups, her first priority, instinctually, is to make sure they remain safe. She puts her safety and her life on the line for her family.

That is a mother with moxie.

However, we humans all too often would rather not exercise our moxie. Sometimes we would rather just tuck tail and run, even if it isn’t the wisest or most compassionate choice for the others involved. We would rather delegate our responsibilities, if at all possible, and continue on with our “easy” life.


Sometimes the stress of life becomes too much for even the most resolute among us mothers.

I have to laugh at myself at those moments. If I don’t, I wouldn’t make it very long in this life. In fact, I have to laugh at myself often. And I rather enjoy my closest friends helping me to see the humor in the predicaments I get myself into.

Over the past several months, I have mentioned that my son had reinjured his left shoulder at work. And more recently, I mentioned that my hubby injured his right shoulder and will need surgery. His surgery was postponed but should be rescheduled soon. That is what has ultimately postponed our departure date.

Now, here’s the kicker: My son needs surgery, too. Three dislocations within a year don’t make for a strong shoulder.

Imagine if you will, my husband’s right arm immobilized in a sling and my son’s left arm also immobilized in a sling—at roughly the same time. I joked they should have their surgeries on the same day, to save me the hassle of wasting two days in the OR waiting room.

While talking with a good friend the other day, we had great laughs about this. Could we put the two together to make a whole? In the end, she gave me a rather un-motherly piece of advice—Run for the hills!

This situation has given me plenty of stress, but also plenty of giggles. Picture me, a pain and fatigue riddled middle-aged woman, trying to help two normally big, strong men convalesce after surgery.

I’ve thought about throwing out my shingle: “Jen’s Convalescent Home for Shoulders Injuries” or “Weanie Arms R Us” or my favorite, “The Cherry Center for Recovering One-Armed Bandits.” I could even make it all legit and hire a care team. It could work, if only I had the greenies . . .

I just gotta laugh when life keeps throwing curve balls at my windows. What else can I do? If I couldn’t laugh, I would certainly go crazy.

May you find peace in your life. And please pray for a little to come our way as well.

This Too Shall Pass

I’ve been in this rut that past few days again. It isn’t depression, but it does keep me down. It is the blasted headaches and pain.  Again. Why must they be here again? I asked them politely to leave me alone. I guess the headaches are from spending too much time staring at a computer screen. But I have been trying so very hard to get my book finished that I have been in one of those writing frenzies—that is until the headaches took over again.

My writing frenzies can keep me up all night sometimes, pounding away at the keyboard. Or it can mean that I wake up in the morning with a pen in my hand. Yes, I do weird things in my sleep. Sleep walking. Sleep eating. Sleep writing.

My nights are oftentimes my most interesting times of the day, so to speak. I mean, what with all that sleep activity plus night terrors and nightmares and night sweats. Then there are CPAPs, mouth guards, wrist braces, and pillows supporting my knees and arms. And constantly readjusting my Sleep Number bed to find even two minutes of comfort. Sleep Number beds may be okay for “the average” person, but for a “major pain” like myself, well, I don’t think any bed can really give me all I need. Except there was that bed in Tahoe last spring . . .

Am I a mess or what?

But this too shall pass. God will ease my headaches, my pain. God will ease my symptoms of Lyme disease and early menopause. And God will even ease my nightmares.

And even though these things shall pass, I am very thankful for all of my life. I am thankful for my gift of writing. I am thankful for the intelligence God blessed me with, the sense of humor, the compassion and love in my heart. I am thankful for my husband, my children, my family, my friends. I am thankful for having enough in my life to always allow us to get by and never be desperately wanting or without. I am thankful for knowing the hard times with the good times, for how could I recognize the good without first knowing the bad? I am thankful there is a God to watch over me and care for me in my illness. I am thankful you are here, sharing my journey with me.

Life’s Little Obstacles

“Whether we’re prepared or not, life has a habit of thrusting situations upon us.”

Lucille Ball

 

So, it is probably no big news that someone who suffers from depression, anxiety, and a major illness (not that depression and anxiety aren’t major illnesses) would seek out counseling services. I am not ashamed to say that I need help from time to time. We should never be ashamed to ask for help when we need it.

We should also never be ashamed to take time for ourselves, to carve out of our day whatever it is we need to not only survive, but thrive.

Each one of us is valuable and deserving of our own compassion, our own goodness. I am worth the effort it will take to get my own “stuff” taken care of. And part of that “stuff” is getting my book finished.

My main excuses have been that I don’t have space. I don’t have the freedom, with Ken home all the time now, wanting my attention. I don’t have the time, with all the other things that need to be done so that we can get on the road. I don’t feel good. I am tired. Blah, blah, blah.

Yesterday, I confessed to my counselor my real reason for not finishing my book, which is so close to being finished. I fear it will fail. I fear no one will read it. I fear my message will not be heard, despite all my efforts.

My wise counselor asked one simple question, which put everything in perspective. (He has that habit.) If you could help just one person with your story, would it be worth it?

Yes, of course. If I could save one person from suffering the torture and abuse I have been through. If I could help one woman to find the courage to love herself enough to walk away. If I could help one person, of course it would be worth all my effort and all my tears bringing this book to fruition.

Yes, I need to finish my book. Now. Not someday.

So, I need to tackle some of those obstacles that are currently standing in my way.

Today, I took step one to create my own workspace in this small home of ours. The living room is not a viable work area for me because of the television. There isn’t an adequate space available in the tiny bedroom to set up a desk and chair, and I cannot comfortably work on the bed.

And of course, the Raven isn’t back yet. So I cannot work in it. I did talk to Trent today, though. It is going to cost more than I had hoped, but less than I had feared. So, I guess we will be okay, so long as there are no more surprises, like the catalytic converter I found out about today.

I have chosen the utility room in the basement. It may seem like an odd choice, being in the “dungeon” without windows, but it will give me a quiet space of my own. Since Trevor works during the afternoon, it is perfect because he won’t be making noise down there either. His bedroom is right next to the utility, after all. If I really want daylight, I can just open his door, and peek through to his window. There is a way to get around everything, if you try hard enough, even sharing space with the food larder and the washer and dryer.

My furry family album had to be put on hold for a while, too, because of my lack of space. I realized after starting that line of posts that the majority of pictures taken during Suzie’s younger years are not digitized yet. For some reason, when the stores started offering CDs when you got your pictures developed, I forgot to check that box at least half the time.

But never fear, I bought myself a Christmas gift to take care of such a problem: A negative scanner.

And as soon as Trevor gets the power cord for me and takes the scanner and a few boxes of photos downstairs, we will be back in business!

And look here, he did it already! What a sweetheart.

Mental Health Day, Please

“It’s a great life, if you don’t weaken.”

That’s what my wonderful hubby always says. It is usually said when I am blubbering, bawling my eyes out, yelling and screaming, or otherwise having an emotional breakdown of one kind or another. I do have moments of self-pity. They usually last a whole ten seconds, until worry of others takes over my life again. One cannot spout constant “why me’s?” when others need her. I guess it is called being a mother, being an adult. Priorities and responsibility. Okay, sure, I do have self-pity sessions that last longer than ten seconds. It is called depression, and it strikes hard and fast sometimes. But that is not what this is about.

We all need to vent once in a while. To cry on someone else’s shoulder. To scream into a pillow. To have a mental health day, as it is now politically correct to call an otherwise unapproved day off from work. To just be alone for half an hour without being bothered. Or just to get a hug. We all have a need to be weak every now and then.

Life. It is great. But about weakening? Sometimes being vulnerable is a good thing. It shows we are human, that we need each other, and needing each other is definitely a good thing. That is how God planned it. That is why God gave Eve to Adam. Even Adam, big, strong, first-man, needed someone.

But do I have to be needed so much, sometimes? Don’t answer that. It is rhetorical.

Two days ago, my seizure prince, my son, had another grand mal. Usually I can see them coming, if I am there. He blacks out first, just stares off into space, and conversation ceases. This time, we were watching television, and he took a nosedive sideways off the sofa. He got himself into quite the predicament, with his head stuck between a piece of furniture and my totes of craft projects, and his legs became jammed under the couch. If I had seen it coming, I may have been able to safely guide him to the floor, as usual. This feat isn’t easy, guiding a seizing, hulking young man to the floor safely, but it tends to be a whole lot easier than fixing the situation after he goes down alone.

But that is where adrenaline comes in. After all, a mother has been known to lift the car off her husband, run back into the burning building three times to make sure all her kids and the dog get out safely, and face down an armed robber trying to steal what she managed to get onto the lawn before the building exploded—all in one day—and still have a wholesome dinner on the table by six, with a smile on her face and a sparkling clean kitchen to boot.

Wow. Talk about stretching it. What I am trying to get at is that adrenaline can kick in, and we can do miraculous things when we have to.

My problem is that I don’t make enough adrenaline. I have enough for that initial surge, but with adrenal insufficiency, it doesn’t go very far. I can guide my 6-foot-5-inch, 260-pound son to the ground safely, and I can even pick him up enough by the waist of his jeans to pull him out of trouble, as I did the other day, but that is as far as my adrenaline goes. With adrenal fatigue, I then don’t have enough to keep me going the next few days. My brain stays on high alert, and I don’t sleep that first night after he has a seizure, and then my brain is still on high alert the next day, causing panic attacks at every noise, every phone call, every knock at the door. But my body has given up at this point. There isn’t even enough adrenaline to carry out the normal functions of daily living. I spend the next day or two in bed, trying to recuperate.

I don’t know how adrenaline junkies do it. Sure, I used to love the rush, too. I used to tempt fate as a teenager like so many other young people. Who doesn’t at one point or another in their life? It is the thrill of knowing you are alive by facing your fears. An adrenaline high is like no other. But do the adrenaline junkies have a letdown after their thrill seeking adventures? Does their adrenaline eventually run out?

I wonder.

Even though vulnerability is seen as a weakness in this modern world, I will remain just that. Vulnerability and needing each other are vital human qualities. We are not robots.

Responding to the vulnerabilities of others is also vital. God gave us compassion and empathy so that we might help each other in times of need.

And adrenaline is there to help us face our fears, initially the fear of hungry beasts or marauding savages. Today with our penchant for bungee jumping and parasailing, we forget why God gave us that all-important fight-or-flight hormone.

Survival. But survival of humanity, not just the fittest. The strong are there to help the weak, not just take home the prize.

Do you see yourself as weak or as strong? Or are you the perfectly imperfect, weak and strong, human whom God created you to be? Think about it.

And thanks for listening to this imperfect human.

Where’s The Love?

I ended the 2011th year of our Lord wondering about the state of humanity. Where is the peace, love, and compassion that we all desire, that we all confess to reach for? Where is the basic decency, even?

What kind of a world do we live in, where someone deems it okay to solve a barking dog dispute by poisoning the dogs? Those yappy little dogs drive me crazy, too, from time to time, but it is not okay to kill. A dog does what it is allowed to do. The solution needs to be taken up with the owner, not from killing the innocent animals. It is said in dog training classes that it is actually the handler that is being trained, and I believe that is true. Dogs are very receptive to their owner’s behavior. They are eager to please. Why can’t people learn something from dogs, in that respect?

A friend tried to kill himself recently, over a young woman. When asked why she had been so cruel to him, that girl showed her true colors, “Maybe next time he will do it right.” We cannot stop ourselves from falling in love with the wrong people sometimes. We cannot help our overwhelming desire to love them despite themselves. We cannot help but want to fix them, once we do wake up and realize that they are no good for us. But why do people have to be so cruel in the first place? Weren’t we all given the ability to love and care, to show compassion and empathy, to learn and grow from our own mistakes and misgivings?

The newspapers and TV news programs are full of the evildoings of humans. Rape. Murder. Assault. Robbery. Arson. Embezzlement. Bombings. But why must evilness be so prolific? Do the evildoers not feel that twinge in their chest, that gnawing in their gut that tells them they are crossing the line?

Where is the love?

It took a while to search my brain for examples of God’s love, worked through people. It took too long because of all the negative influences we typically surround ourselves with on a daily basis. Those news sources I mentioned earlier. Reality TV, where backstabbing and fighting are glorified. The internet, where there is an overabundance of lies, scams, and other negativities. Information overload.

The love is in the simpler things of life. A smile from a stranger. A shared laugh with a friend over a cup of coffee. A homemade pot of caldo de rez from the neighbor, when I am at my worst. The nurse at the hospital, who spends that extra time to make sure you understand what is to happen next, so that you don’t feel lost and alone at a very scary time.

The compassion and empathy are in the gentle, knowing pat on my hand, when the other person simply has to look at me to know how much I am hurting. It is in the offer to help a friend, before she even contemplates asking. It is in the “just being there” actions we often forget to “do” because we are so busy trying to fill each minute with action, noise, and clutter. Silence is golden, after all.

The decency and humanity are in all of us. It can be nurtured. It can blossom, even from the worst conditions. Despite all the negativity around us, I believe we all deserve love. I believe in the goodness of the human race. Deep down, we all have good in us.

May you be blessed in this New Year. May you find the peace that seems so elusive. May you know the joy of true love and friendship. May you feel the compassion of others. And may you be all these things for someone else.

Mmmmmm Pie

“Vegetables are a must on a diet. I suggest carrot cake, zucchini bread, and pumpkin pie.” Jim Davis

Well, today was pre-Thanksgiving-pie-making day. And boy, did we go overboard. Ken and I worked our fingers to the bone. We made two pumpkin pies, two marionberry pies, three vegetarian mince pies, and three mashed sweet potato and pear casseroles.

Now, with all of those pies, can you believe that there will probably only be four of us for Thanksgiving dinner this year? I am really not insane, though it may seem so. I have a method to my madness, and it includes my love of making pies. Besides, it is customary for me to make extra pies (or other baked goods) because it is my belief that goodness needs to be shared.

It is something like the tradition that some people have of putting an extra setting on the table during the holidays, just in case someone should stop by and be hungry. I may not go through the motions of having an empty chair ready, but our door is always open and there is always plenty of food, and there have been many holidays when we have found out at the last minute that someone would be alone instead of with family. As one friend of ours said to a stranger at our table one year, “They like to adopt people.” It is true. Anyone hungry, either for food or love or just some company, is welcome. (Even this guy.)

This is something I will definitely miss when we are traveling. Who will I share my pies with? Will I even be making pies while we are on the road? I will miss the closeness of my friends, being able to just give a call and set up a coffee date, for no other reason than because I miss her. We will have to work on solving this problem.

In honor of this, my tenth year of making vegetarian mince pies, I would like to share the recipe with you. It is amazing, with all the tantalizing tastes and smells of winter, those earthy spices of cinnamon and cloves and nutmeg. Besides, it is an awesome use for all those green tomatoes left hanging on the vines long after our sunny weather disappeared.

GREEN TOMATO MINCE PIE
To Make two pies:

• 4 cups green tomatoes, chopped
• 4 cups apples, chopped
• 1 cup raisins, chopped
• 1 cup dried cranberries, chopped
• 2 cups brown sugar
• 2 tbsp butter
• 6 tbsp vinegar
• 2 tsp cinnamon
• 1/2 tsp nutmeg
• 1/2 tsp cloves
• 1 tsp salt
• two 9-inch pie shells

The easiest way to chop all the ingredients is to run them through the food processor. Mix all the ingredients together in a non-reactive kettle and boil gently over medium heat for half an hour. Allow to cool a while before filling the crusts. Fill the crusts, put strips of more crust across the top in a lattice, and bake in a 350 degree oven for half an hour or until the crust is golden brown. Serve chilled or warm out of the oven, with a dollop of fresh whipped cream—the real stuff, no Cool Whip allowed.
P.S. During the writing of this post, two more people have been added to our celebration. See how that works?


Hey! How did she get up there? I guess the wonderful aromas were just too much for her.


Who can resist pie crust cookies, made with the leftover pie dough and sprinkled with sugar and love?

Survival Tactics For Humans

 

Sometimes the best revenge when someone has hurt you is to simply live a good life. Sometimes if the hurts cut too deeply, you must live your good life without them. Sometimes if you find yourself surrounded by unsafe people (please read Safe People by Townsend and Cloud if you want information on this subject), you must assess why that is so, what your part in those issues is, and you must make changes to make your environment safe. Lashing out accomplishes nothing and damages everyone concerned. Even if your own words don’t “come back to bite you in the butt,” as the saying goes, your own words can still hurt you in lost time, lost happiness, lost relationships.

It is best to turn the other cheek. Jesus is the perfect example of turning the other cheek. But this does not mean that He allowed the offenders to strike another blow. He chose to surround Himself with safe people and He chose to live His life as an example for others.

Turning the other cheek means you move on without taking revenge. Without charging an eye for your own swollen and blackened eye. Having such a negative attitude only leads to more hurt, more strife, more pain. Therefore, it is best to lead a good life without sinking low.

Whether those who have offended you ever know of your new-found freedom through living your own good life is inconsequential. Just as forgiveness is for your own heart and not for the benefit of the person you are forgiving, happiness is for your own sake. I have given myself the grace to live my life as best I can, though sometimes my depression still rears its ugly head. I am only human.

I strive always for forgiveness, goodness, and mercy in my heart. I surround myself with good people, loved ones who build me up rather than tear me down. I strive to give and do for others whenever I can, though my illness tends to hold me back from all I want to do. God has forgiven me my inabilities and my failings in my darkest hours, in my weakest moments, in my illness. I strive to give myself enough grace to heal my heart, soul, and body instead of hating myself for all that I am not and cannot do.

I am a survivor. I survive. I am alive. And God loves me even though, or maybe because, I am human.

The Best Anti-Depressant

. . . is being proactive.

For years, I have suffered at the hands of my depression and anxiety. For years, I have let those evils run my life. For years, I have wallowed in self-pity, allowing my past to continue to haunt me. For years, I have contemplated suicide, knowing in my messed-up brain that the world would be better off without me.
For years, I was stupid. Allowing my past and my emotions to rule my present and my future is stupid.

Sometimes I hate myself for allowing this waste of my life. It is worse than suicide because I have to be here and still know how much of my life is gone, wasted. But I cannot hate myself forever. I am only human, after all, and if I allow others their mistakes and I forgive them, why not myself?

A couple years ago, I hit rock bottom. I thought I had already been there several times before, but this time was the worst. I found myself newly diagnosed with a devastating illness. I lost my job because of that illness. I was thrust into motherlessness when my mother suddenly passed away from a pulmonary embolism. I further became an orphan when my entire birth family shunned me because they could not accept my illness. They preferred to call me a hypochondriac and lazy. I lost my home because of my illness, medical bills, and joblessness. If it weren’t for the love of my dear husband, I would have been destitute, alone, and dead on the street.

I came to a decision in the wake of all that tragedy.

I had to love myself as much as Ken loves me. As much as Jesus loves me. I had to fight for myself as much as Ken was willing to fight for me. As much as Jesus fought and died for me.

I came to the decision that, even with the love and support of Ken and Jesus and my son, I was ultimately the one who had to save me.

I had to be proactive.

But I did not know how. I did not know what to do.

I took a few classes at church. At first, my life crumbled further into the abyss as my searchings opened old wounds. I was forced into reliving my past every night in my nightmares.

Then things started to even out. My emotional life started to improve even though I still suffered greatly in my physical life.

I would like to share that turning point with you. This painting and poem came about because of an assignment in one of the church classes I took. Because of my new guiding attitude and the reminders of this artwork, I know I must fight and scratch and claw my way out of the pit of depression.  Sometimes I must still fight every day. Just as I must be proactive in regaining my physical health, I must be proactive in my mental and emotional health.

Thank you for allowing me to share my life with you. Thank you, Renew and Mountain View Christian Church, for helping me know what I must do. Thank you, Pastor Dave, for listening to my broken heart, even when sometimes I just seemed to blubber and rant.

And thank you, Angie, most of all for starting me on my healing journey. Your insights into grief and your compassion for others are immeasurable. I love you, my dearest friend.

RENEWED

I am renewed

I am out of the woods

On top of the mountain

The dove of peace

Has left the olive branch

And taken away the spirochetes

I reach for Jesus

His warmth beckoning

My heart is already there

His gifts rain down around me

Like wildflowers in a field

So many go unnoticed

His greatest worldly gifts

My life, my mind, my body

These renew so that I may

Give my gifts to you.
 

Jennifer Lynn Servantes

October 15, 2009
 

It's Cosmic, Baby

Ken boxing up what is left.

In a cosmic collision of two axioms, I have found my own. “If you love something, set it free. If it comes back, it is yours.” “Practice random acts of kindness.” Crash. Bang. Boom. “Set your love free through random acts of kindness.”

I have struggled with the setting what you love free thing since I first heard that saying as a teenager. One cousin was saying it to another at a family reunion. They were older and much wiser, eighteen, maybe even twenty. That age sounds so mature when you are the geeky younger cousin, left out of the adult conversations. I was struggling with puppy dog crushes and really didn’t understand love, as all it can encompass, at the tender young age of fourteen. I greedily wanted the affections of this boy or that. I really cannot remember who I was madly in love with at the time. It was probably the bad boy who sat in the back of English class, with his feet propped up on an empty seat, his sandy blonde hair all mussed up and hanging in his eyes. Oh, how I loved what could get me into trouble back then.

Hmm. Oh, sorry. I disappeared for awhile. But enough of the bygone daydreams of a teenage girl.

I have tried in the past to practice daily random acts of kindness, doing these little niceties anonymously as much as I could. That is a very steep asking for one person, making them daily. I failed miserably, and I felt that failure deeply, even though I had helped out many people in the process. My self-imposed sense of failure was only because I tried to build randomness into my to-do list. I discovered it is called random for a reason.

Lately, I’ve come to a new sense of philanthropy, without it really feeling like I am just giving hand-outs or just looking for another tax write-off. Instead of me searching for a need to fulfill, I relax. I let my heart do the leading, and then my hands complete the task. I pray for guidance. Compassionate giving cannot be forced. It must be allowed to bloom on its own. If it is something I love or cherish or covet that I am compelled to give, all the better. Then I know it is Jesus working miracles in my heart, for the joy I experience in the giving far outweighs any happiness I could gain from the keeping.

I can write a check to the Portland Rescue Mission whenever they send a request, but that, although generous and charitable, is not personal. I do write those checks, but actually serving meals or devoting my time and talents in some other way for the homeless would touch my heart even more. If I had it to give, I could bequest a million dollars to a worthy college, but it does not become real for me unless I read the winning scholarship letters myself. The joy, for me, is in the knowing, however briefly, the story of the recipients.

My acts are not so much anonymous now. That is not the important part, though I still do not need the public recognition to make me feel good about myself. In fact, recognition embarrasses me. It makes me feel uncomfortable. It cheapens what I have done, making it more of a human thing instead of the God-inspired act it really is. My recognition comes from knowing I helped an injured animal; seeing the sparkle in a little girl’s eyes; knowing that what I give is appreciated and will be put to good use; being allowed, even momentarily, into the lives, the stories, and the struggles of others, and knowing I can accomplish something good for them.

I have made a decision about our yard sale leftovers. My darling husband is letting me divide up the mess as I see fit, instead of just hauling it all away to the Salvation Army or Goodwill. Each of those two major charities has gotten its fair share today. My main mission this week is to make sure the little guy doesn’t get left out. A young man visited our yard sale a few weeks ago and made an appeal on behalf of his Haitian charity. Five large boxes of clothes, housewares, and bedding will go to his cause. I have been chatting on line with a desperately poor young woman who has recently lost a lot of weight. She hadn’t a thing to wear, until I gave her two bags of the clothing I had had for sale. The Portland Rescue Mission, one of my favorite charities, will get seven boxes of men’s clothing, coats, hats, and bedding. In this way, I spread my joy around. Ken, who will do just about anything to please me, gladly boxed the items as I directed. He really isn’t the toughie he pretends to be. My honey is a big teddy bear.

Now that the sales and donations are done for this year, maybe next I will work on world peace.

Oh, please.

30 Things

Invisible Illness Week

30 things about my invisible illness you may not know

1. The illness I live with is: Lyme disease
2. I was diagnosed with it in the year: 2009
3. But I had symptoms since: early childhood
4. The biggest adjustment I’ve had to make is: letting others help me
5. Most people assume: I am fat and lazy
6. The hardest part about mornings are: getting my brain fog to clear
7. My favorite medical TV show is: House
8. A gadget I couldn’t live without is: my Kitchenaid mixer
9. The hardest part about nights are: finding a comfortable enough position to fall asleep--and stay asleep
10. Each day I take __ pills & vitamins. (No comments, please) at least 50
11. Regarding alternative treatments I: research, research, research, then ask my naturopath
12. If I had to choose between an invisible illness or visible I would choose: not to be ill at all. Actually I am very glad I am not in a wheelchair or not dragging around an oxygen bottle.
13. Regarding working and career: that’s on hold until I am well enough to try again, then I will return to school for a degree in religious studies
14. People would be surprised to know: how much fun I can be when I let my guard down
15. The hardest thing to accept about my new reality has been: not being able to do all the things I used to do
16. Something I never thought I could do with my illness that I did was: find the courage to share my writing with others and find the courage to speak up for myself
17. The commercials about my illness: what commercials? Lyme is an “unacceptable illness” to most of the medical community
18. Something I really miss doing since I was diagnosed is: working and having a paycheck
19. It was really hard to have to give up: my birth family, who refused to accept my diagnosis
20. A new hobby I have taken up since my diagnosis is: painting
21. If I could have one day of feeling normal again I would: go on a long hike in the mountains
22. My illness has taught me: not to give up so easily
23. Want to know a secret? One thing people say that gets under my skin is: about brain fog and confusion: “yeah, I hate it when I misplace my keys too.”
24. But I love it when people: say they have a chronically ill person in their family and I can see the true compassion on their faces and in their actions
25. My favorite motto, scripture, quote that gets me through tough times is: this is the day the Lord has made, we shall be glad and rejoice in it.
26. When someone is diagnosed I’d like to tell them: more important than any pill they will take or treatment they seek, is hope.
27. Something that has surprised me about living with an illness is: there are a lot of us out there
28. The nicest thing someone did for me when I wasn’t feeling well was: brought dinner over for my husband and son
29. I’m involved with Invisible Illness Week because: awareness is very important. If one person is changed by being aware their neighbor is ill, peace and compassion shall reign, on their street at least.
30. The fact that you read this list makes me feel: valued as a friend, neighbor, sister