Tag: People

Pain Management

My friend Jamil recovered from an auto–immune disease then went back into it. We met two years ago at a restaurant: her eyes like twin lighthouses. How dyou do this Jamil? I want to ask, but words turn to noodles in my throat.

She has lil narratives of new meds that work briefly before other symptoms kick in. “There’s some long nights, you sweat it out, you cry, but in the morning a miracle happens. You’ve got thru another dark place. You have new energy, sometimes. But other days, you search the mind for images, of Hope, of Strength. I find tremendous strength in Joy. Not just random positivity but the peace of God that passes human understanding..that Joy is the Strength of Christ, displayed right thru His life, death and resurrection….”

we go silent a bit. The soup is still warm, like us, two different humans in a time of Change. Jamil has put on the weight she lost, her feet hurt, the wrists are covered with long cotton sleeves. This woman has no space for mourning.

I’m dizzy with her funny bones- her stories of children and husband. You’d think she didn’t have one jolt of pain. Jamil has small and larger seizures, she swells, her joints scream, scream. I’ve been with her in ER. We both remember us in days for better, for worse!

The hour goes in the next. Our silences are rich. She loves ice cream but can’t have much. We share a scoop, then some. I’m supposed to be on a diet too. I have my share of pain management to work thru’; am allergic to pain killers, yeowww.

So, today I remembered Jamil, especially after last week, after a wee tablet for tummy ache: who knew it would kick in like angry mice in my skin?! Sunday morning I have unruly blisters in the lip, temple,

Dear Lord God, I can’t ask you why – but here I am. Sure there’s far better folks out there, going thru worse. This morning am making this List I need, to combat painful encounters of any kind; (this will not go well with human rights activists, but might help some of us with Irreversibles) :

Never feel entitled to a life free of intrusions.
Pain can be like an overstaying guest, but I’m the host of me. So I’m rethinking this one:
Pain can be my Travel Agent, taking me places we get to, when we leave confort.
Pain is a Friend, my Associate . Once I think that thru, my muscles relax. (They teach this at Lamaze classes!)
( I don’t think y’all will like this list, so am shortening); my partner:Pain is a shared emotion, not just with scores of precious ppl, but with One Whose very Resurrection, pulls my decay to life.
Pain is a type of death: when you come out of each contract, (you once were in neutral gear), now you’re an eagle. Everything we knew, is re-defined. Here we free-fall in skies. This is not gravity – the pull has Shifted. Here you’re seeing with eyes shut wide; you’re staring at Eternal Perspective; you touch soul. The spirit rises on wings with no, no recoil. It is your 206-bone – marrow being sifted like wheat. The blood type you once had doesn’t matter: you’re gazing into the Unseen with eyes that cannot flinch at the sun. You’re no longer scared of heights of ignorance or depths of newness; of certain types of discussions on immortality that once made you cringe. You’re afraid and yelling but you see that things are more …more …more than what we confess. You’re transfused, if willing, by the Blood of Jesus shed on a Cross: transacting our hell for a life free of even emotional bondage, already. Eventually we will all die: but where is my spirit headed? That Q becomes central, beyond survival skills.
Last one: Pain is physical, but It is a visa to a new Term, a Terminal with one gate. A narrow Gate. The only baggage allowed is your spirit. You watch your remains shrivel and go. You arrive when you leave. You are light, lighter, Light. The first whispers of Pain? They are just the introduction to this passage. Now we gaze thru’a glass darkly,but oneday, face to face with the One Who killed death for us. So yes, like it or not, humans will master a certain degree of pain, in our trip into Freedom from gravity. We get to choose our Response to It.

Blesseday🌿🕊🌿

Not just another day!

As our nation reels and staggers among seen and unseen factors, can all the kings horses and all the kings men put things back together again? Before we can get used to the day’s Papers, the next day dawns with worse stats. This is unreal, but like one person said, “..it was a disaster waiting to happen.” It is a war on everything we’ve known.

Today we prayed that we would really pray, set aside 21 days asking the Lord to hear our voice, for our people, our leaders, our healing as nations, as states, homes, families, individuals. 21 days of a fast from everything that holds me back: negative thoughts, distracted mind prone to worry..

all that. Remembering who God is, and what He means when He says, “If my people who are called by my Name will humble themselves and pray, I will forgive and heal their land…”

Took this pic- our tiny saplings grow into little plants, as a nation plummets…. where?

Moki, an acquaintance will laugh at this post: not everyone believes in God. And then not everyone believes God answers prayers. And then some believe in a God of disaster. When He speaks He is a mere Judge. He is, but He’s also the One that lets new skies each day lift my heart. Am spending the next 21 tugging at the hem of His garment, seeking Grace.

Yeah, mid– storm, sailors do cry “Mayday!”

This morning my heart is curiously still: yeah I’m seeking His face. He’s brought us through worse. Covid and poor disaster management is not the worst ill there is. A worse one stares us in the face- the soul of man, woman and child that lives alone, without the Friendship of the One who made us all, one Who waits to meet us here before it is too late.

FMF Writers

Watch “DESPISE SHAME – Haven Fellowship Sunday Service” on YouTube

Less is more

‘Really.’ I said, feeling nothing at all.

His words were kind, minimal. ‘Yes, we are restless as a race. So.’

So, we needed a break, but not to be broken, right? The young Padre smiles, like an old man. He’s seen too much, I guess as he blinks back tears.

‘Sometimes suffering makes us feel some good things.’

What things?

Later we know he gave up every little thing he ever had to join this community of underprivileged people, he lives with them, with just 2 sets of clothes, no fussy car and lifestyle.

‘Here I’ve found not just peace, but rest. All my excess was my distraction. It clouded my focus.’

He made us uncomfortable, but we pressed for more. ‘I have all I need here in these people’s needs. They have so little, I have so much to give from all I’ve received.’

We look briefly at the small notebooks and box of pencils, all around the floor; look briefly at their little and older faces eager for the simple things: the alphabet, addition, subtraction.

What else does he do, offer health care?

Unsure that I want to know more: the past few hours here are proof enough that the more humans grew markets, the less we cared for lesser materially-abled communities.

I say that out loud, but the young Padre shakes his head. ‘Its not all about material things,’ he begins, his face flushing. I know, I know, but can’t take more.

We go home and think how enlarged the human spirit must be to impact others with that ‘little‘. Ay, less is the new more: it allows for a certain freedom we may not even know we have, we had?