Addiction or Self-discipline? (The title does not mean what you think it means)

My son is doing a presentation on a Christian based twelve step program. This program does not simply deal with what we would generally call addiction. As he has worked on this, we have discussed that many things, which are not considered addiction, really are. Basically, any negative thing that we do with repetition would be an addiction. This was a new thought to me, but I believe it is valid.

A few days after my son and I were speaking about what addiction was, my daughter-in-law, from a different son, was talking about addiction. She did not even know what my other son and I had been talking about. She was saying that many behaviors can be addiction. I can't remember all the things she listed off, but I do remember one of them. It was positivity. I had to think about that, because I am known for my positivity.

So, the question is, “what constitutes addiction and what constitutes self discipline?” If what my son, daughter-in-law and I have been talking about is true (and I think it is), some things can be an addiction to one person and self discipline to another. How do we know the difference?

I believe the difference lies in the motivation. Since my brain stopped at the word, “positivity” when my DIL was talking, I am going to use that as an example.

In the first chapter of James, it says, “Consider it all joy my brethren when you encounter various trials, knowing that the testing of your faith produces endurance and let endurance have it's perfect effect, that you may be perfect and complete, lacking in nothing.” So, am I supposed to see my trials as a positive thing? Yes. In Romans 8:28 it says, “All things work together for the good to those who love God and are called according to his purpose.” Do I have reason for joy even in the really hard things in life? Yes. Does that mean that I constantly have a smile on my face and never cry? No. Jesus wept. If He cried, I can cry. So, when can positivity be an addiction and not self discipline? I believe it is when we are not truly looking at our circumstances and don't really want to. Godly positivity is a knock down, drag out fight with our circumstances. It is saying, “I see this stinking hard thing, but I am not going to let it conquer me. I am going to remember that God will bring about good in this thing, even if the thing is not good. I am going to focus on doing what is right in this thing and remembering that God doesn't waste my pain.” There is absolutely no negative thing in my life, because although not all things are good, God can bring about good in my life because of them. However, if I choose to ignore the heaping hard things in my life and just wear a smile and say, “Life is great. The sun is always shining, blah, blah, blah...”, I would be addicted to ignoring my problems instead of engaging my problems. Yes,I play the glad game and I love the movie “Pollyanna”, but it actually helps me to evaluate the stinking hard things and figure out how to deal with them in a God honoring way.

Addiction to positivity glosses over the problems so that we do not need to engage. Very understandable. Sometimes engaging is very painful. The self discipline of being positive engages the problem, with the knowledge that God as our Father has allowed a trial into our life for a purpose. We may not always see the purpose, but instead of glossing over the problem or drowning in the problem, we seek God in the problem and allow it to do it's good work.

Now it is your turn. What things do you do repetitively? Is it an addiction or is it self-discipline? I plan to keep my mind engaged, because there may be other things that are addiction to me. I want self-discipline, but I don't want addiction.

(The picture represents my daily “knock down, drag out fight” with stinking hard things and the choice to be positive anyway. If she were still here, she would read this before I posted it. I loved that she did that for me, but the positive thing is that God is still here.)

Once Upon a Christmas

Once Upon a Christmas

Many years ago now, when I was in grade school, I had a very exciting Christmas. I have a sister, named Mary. She seemed to have it as her goal, to make life special for us younger kids. She would take me to buy clothes sometimes...just the two of us. One time she made me a dress. Another time she taught me how to make a garden. It was a pansy garden. I loved that garden, not just for the pansies, but for the warm feeling in my heart that I got when I thought about my sister, spending time with me. Back to the exciting Christmas...Mary took my sister Pauline and I to the store and we got corderoy fabric and glitter. We also got some Christmas balls that were covered with shiney thread and some ribbon. When we got home, Mary showed us how to hang the balls and tie the ribbon right above the ball. I thought it was the best tree ever. Then, she showed us how to cut the corderoy into stockings. She sewed them together. Then she showed us how to write with glue and how to sprinkle the glitter on the glue just right so that the stockings all had our names in sparkling glitter. I had never seen such beautiful stockings.

A few months ago, I mentioned those stockings to my sister, Mary. I can't remember her exact words...something to the effect of “Oh, those stockings...they looked so bad”. Hmmm...How is it that she did not know that those were the most beautiful stockings ever? In fact, I loved those stockings so much that the first Christmas after I got married, I bought enough corderoy to make stockings for not only my husband and I, but for my future children and grandchildren as well. Good thing, because I now have a grandson that needs a corderoy stocking.

At this point in my life, I have a lot of time to think and a lot of reason to think. Life is pretty tenuous for me, so I think, “What can I do to effect the lives of those around me? Not just for now, but for when I am no longer here?” One thing that keeps coming to mind is that I need to tell people about the difference they made in my life. I think there are a lot of people who have no idea of how they have effected people's lives. Since, realistically, none of us are going to have an, “It's a Wonderful Life” experience to show us the difference we make, we should let each other know. I think that maybe taking the time to encourage people in this way could be a much nicer present, than any present we will ever find under a Christmas tree.

So here's to you, Mary...the sister who made me feel important. The sister who did things with me. The sister who helped me repaint my bedroom, plant a garden, cheered at my cross country meet. A sister who was an example of who I wanted to be one day. I would not be the person I am today, if not for her example of what it means to be a loving child of God.

One Great Dad and So Many Wonderful People!

Many years ago, when I was little (the kids I know think that was a LONG time ago), I used to be sad that my birthday was in December. It was right between Thanksgiving and Christmas, so my siblings who had gone away to college (I was only 5 when my oldest sister went) would come home for Thanksgiving and for Christmas, but it was too hard for them to come celebrate my birthday in the middle of the two holidays. I don't remember overly complaining about it, but like I say, I was kind of sad that my family couldn't come.

One year my dad told me that he was going to make my birthday special. He proceeded to tell me that we were going to celebrate by getting the Christmas tree on the weekend closest to my birthday. I got to pick out our trees and be in charge of decorating. I still remember how special I felt. Although my dad still knows me, he doesn't remember how he blessed me those many years ago. However, his thoughtfulness has impacted me all these years, as I too try to think of ways to bless others.

Today, after church and the traditional taking my parents to lunch, I came home and went to bed for awhile. As I was waking from my nap, I heard the cracking of wood outside and then the light beam from a flash light came through my window. I heard people trying to keep secrets and trying to be quiet so as not to wake me. I came out of my room and saw the girls that live here making me birthday cards. They gave me cookies (I don't think birthday cookies have calories). Their mom, was making me birthday dinner. Then, commotion at the door as Jonathan and Josiah attempted to get a very large and natural looking tree into the house. How thoughtful Josiah was to remember to continue a tradition that was started years ago and bring the tree in to decorate for my birthday. The day started out a little rough because I was late taking my myasthenia pill this morning and couldn't hold my head up during church (it was OK, people thought I was praying all that time-now they probably think I am very spiritual!). The cool thing was that after resting and taking my medicine, I was strong and got to help decorate the tree! It is such a cool tree! Our definition of cool is maybe different than other people's. Our trees are very unique, we just let them grow and see how they turn out.

As I sit here looking at the tree and listening to Christmas music, I reflect on all my blessings...on all the people that have made my life rich.

God bless you, every one.

Trust, Thankfulness and Self-esteem

I did not mean to go this long without doing a blog. I wanted to do one entitled, "In defense of Autumn", but I was always too exhausted to even transfer the pictures I wanted to use onto the blog. Now that Thanksgiving is past, I guess it is too late. It was going to be a fun, happy blog and I like fun, happy blogs. I asked God the other day why it seemed my lot to write deep, emotional blogs when, really, I like to laugh and have fun as well. I didn't get an answer.

Quite frankly, this Myasthenia thing has been kicking me. I continued to try to fight back and continue to do the things I felt I needed to do, but it didn't work. Two weeks ago I ended up at OHSU because of a "myasthenic crisis". Whereas I am called an under-responder to my anaphylaxis (it doesn't scare me), I was totally traumatized over the myasthenic thing. It has caused me to ponder things a lot.

Josiah was at college and very worried about me, so when I got out of the hospital, Joyce drove me to his school to pick him up and bring him home for a day. I told him that I knew I didn't look so good, but that I wanted him to know that I was improving rapidly. He told me that was no comfort to him because I looked really bad and if I was a lot worse than that, he found it very scary. Joyce didn't know the way to get home from Josiah's college, so I went along when she took him to school, so I could help her find the way back. It just so happened that a huge storm came through and stranded us in Seaside, OR.

It wasn't lost on me that this could well be God's way of getting me to sit still for awhile. So I sat and I pondered. I asked myself a lot of questions. I asked God a lot of questions. I didn't ask people a lot of questions because people stress over me and I don't want to make it worse. I felt traumatized. Mental health professionals call the "Glad Game", "re-framing". So let's just say, I kept trying to re-frame things and no matter how I did it, it was hard. I kept hearing this God voice in my head saying, "trust me" and I can say that I honestly did not quit trusting. I still believed that all days are good, but some days are hard and I believed that God never wastes my pain. However, hard is, well, hard. Just because I believe all those things does not make me immune to intense pain.

I remember sitting and looking out the window at people in the hot tub and people in the pool and people just walking on the beach and I wondered if it was a sin to want so badly to just be able to do the things they were doing.

I thought back on my life and tried to figure out why losing responsibilities made me feel so lost and useless. I thought back to ten years ago, when my ex-husband left. I felt less than worthless at that point. I had tried so hard to please, that my whole life revolved around trying to please. When he left, I no longer knew why I did anything I did other than to please him. I slowly found myself again. I determined that I would be a success, and in people's eyes I was. People thought I could do anything and fix everything. No one knew how I could do so much. By the time of the accident, I realized that I had become too independent. You see, if you depend on others, they may let you down. It is safer to rely on yourself even if it is a struggle. It wasn't even just about being a success or being independent, it was about wanting to help people. I love to help people.

Now I was faced with just me apart from what I accomplish (or don't accomplish). How could I give up any more responsibilities and still have any self worth left. (Once again, some of you are screaming the answer...I know and have known the answer, but knowing and feeling are two different things). Silent tears...so many silent tears during those days of questioning.

When we got home, I went to my mom's house. My brother was there. I told him how the myasthenia thing had scared me and I never wanted it to happen again. He broached the subject of moving my parents to the house next to one of my sister's to relieve me of the responsibilities I currently had with them. For 10 years I have been helping them. Long before people knew they needed help, I was helping them. I always wanted them to be able to stay at home until they passed. I planned to make that a reality for them, but I knew that what my brother said made sense. I didn't want it, but the choices were limited. After the myasthenic crisis, I knew that it would be quite easy for me to die just trying to continue what I had been doing.

When absolutely no one agrees with you, does that mean that maybe you are wrong? When I talked to any friend or family member, not one of them agreed with me about continuing to live life as I previously had. All of them told me I needed to pace myself. I am not a "pace yourself" kind of person. However, after a lot of pondering it occurred to me that all the people I encountered from family to friends to coworkers loved me for me and not for anything I had done. All of them asked or begged me to stop doing so I could continue to be (as in be alive).

So now I had come full circle. As a child I felt loved apart from anything I did. As a wife I felt rejected no matter how hard I tried. Then I felt loved for all I was doing and now I realize that I am loved just by being who I am.

This has been a very hard lesson. I feel kind of lost, trying to find my place in this world once again.

The only reason I know things are under control is because I believe in the One who has control.

Now for the last part of the title of this blog...Thankfulness. Leading up to Thanksgiving, there have been a lot of people who are posting what they are thankful for. This is a great thing, but one thing I have noticed, is that all the things listed are nice things like family and food and friends and nice possessions. While it is appropriate to be thankful for these things, I believe that it is also important to be thankful for things like anaphylaxis and myasthenia  and painful relationships and struggles of every kind, because it is in the struggles that we learn the most important things in life. Carbon turns to diamond under intense heat and pressure. People shine more brightly when they let the heat and pressure of life transform them.

"Consider it all joy, my brethren, when you encounter various trials, knowing that the testing of your faith produces endurance. And let endurance have it's perfect effect that you may be perfect and complete, lacking in nothing. James 1:2

"My grace is sufficient for you, for power is perfected in weakness." 2 Corinthians 12:9

BTW-I haven't given up on getting better. Never, ever give up!

At this Moment in Time, You are the Only Person I See

I have a job.

I have a job as a nurse.

I am asked, "How can you have a job? You are SO not healthy!"

One day at a time. I have very supportive coworkers and the doctors I work with are amazing.

I not only work for money and for insurance.,

I work because when I am at work, I make a difference in people's lives.

So often, in the healthcare setting, patients and family members can feel so lost and helpless. I have experienced this. My experience helps me help others.

On Thursday a mom came to the clinic and asked for me. Her little 2 year old struggles with the same cancer that, Josiah, my son had.

She received the dreaded news a few weeks ago, that her child's cancer had recurred.

The survival rate is not as high for kids with recurrent cancer. As the mom finds out more and more, her fear gets greater. Understandably so.

She came to me for a couple of things. She wanted to tell me what the doctors had said and she wanted to know if it was alright if she looked for more opinions, for a person that might specialize in this particular cancer. I'm guessing she wanted to be listened to by someone who had been there.

What struck me during our visit as we sat behind a curtain, both of us trying hard not to cry, was the plea of her heart. She said repeatedly, "Those doctors have hundreds of patients. My child is one of many, but she is the only (girl's name) I have."

She left.

Sometimes I am so grateful that my desk is built into the wall of the pediatric hallway. I went to my desk, my face hidden, with tears flowing. Quietly. I thought about the mom, I thought about the little girl, I thought about my mother's heart, I thought about my cancer survivor son.

I started researching. Trying to find someone that specialized in her child's cancer.

Sweet mom of that little girl, when you were talking to me, you were the only person I saw. I see your face frequently in my mind. Please know that although your child is not the only patient I have, I will give my best effort. I will work to find answers for you. When you seek my help, you will be the only person I see.

Other people out there, for as long as I can remember, I have tried to ask the question with each patient I interact with, "If I were this person, what would I want from my nurse?" and I try to do it.

It occurred to me through this experience that I do that for my patients, but I don't always do that for other people in my life. Wouldn't this world be a much better place if each of us, in each interaction, treated people as if at that moment they were the only person we saw? Let's try it.

Tears

My grandpa moved into our house (where I grew up) on my 17th birthday. We became very close. We did a lot together. One day, nearly three years later, I was preparing for nursing school by coloring in my anatomy coloring book and he was handing me the correct felt tip markers. When it was time for the next marker, he did not hand it to me. When I looked over at him, he was purple and was having a seizure. Long story short, the cancer he had 40 years prior had come back. It was now in his brain and vertebrae. He died a few months later. I do not believe that there has been anyone before or since that admired me as much as he did. We had fun doing things together. My mom says that one of her favorite memories ever was when she was canning in the house and my grandpa and I were making lawn chairs in the shop. The chairs have since decayed, but the memories last. I cried when he died. Someone told me that I should not be crying, because after all, he was in heaven and I should be happy for him.

I pondered...

The verse, "Jesus wept" came to mind. I went back to the story.

I pondered some more...

Lazarus had died. His sisters came to Jesus when he finally arrived 4 days later. They were upset. Why didn't he come sooner? He could have saved him. They didn't understand. Jesus wept when he saw them. He couldn't have been weeping over the loss of his friend because he was God. He knew that he was going to bring him back to life. I believe he wept over the pain that he saw in the sister's faces. He did not condemn them for crying, or hurting, or even their dismay over him taking too long to get there. He cried with them.

Today, I thought back to that time so many years ago when I made a discovery through my own searching.

Today, I once again pondered what it means when I cry.

Today, the diagnosis came. It was the expected one. Myasthenic Like Syndrome (myasthenia caused by mast cells instead of the thymus gland). When the neurologist said it, I listened and tried to comprehend the treatment.  My sister, Joyce, had an appointment with the same doctor shortly after my appointment. I told her that it was a lot easier to suspect a diagnosis for a couple weeks before having it confirmed, because then you can ease into it. I was positive and upbeat.

However, a couple hours after I got home, tears started coming out of my eyes. I don't even know why. I know that may sound stupid, but I really don't know. I don't feel scared, I seem to have lost that emotion after all the experiences I have had in the last few years. I don't feel angry. I don't feel depressed. Josiah asked if it was discouragement. I don't think so. On the night when I realized  I probably had this disease, I know why I cried. I cried because I didn't want it. But since then, I reframed it. I pondered. I found good. I found ways of coping. I trusted in my Father and I knew I was loved by him and he would not waste any of my pain.

When I was a little girl I had my life planned out. I was going to marry a man that would love me like my dad loved my mom. I was going to have six kids, just like my mom and dad did. I had a beautiful future planned out. But then, life happened. It wasn't as I planned. I would be lying if I said it has been easy. It hasn't, but I am not lying when I say it has been good.

However, here I sit with swollen eyes, unable to even figure out why. Maybe it doesn't matter. What does matter is that God knows. He is not looking down at me and saying, "Where is your faith? Don't you know that I have a plan? Where is your joy? Buck up!" No, he is not saying that at all. When I close my eyes, I feel his gentleness. I see a picture in my mind of a God who came to earth and cried over people's pain, even though he knew the future and knew that in a few moments time, they would be rejoicing over their brother's resurrection.

"You (God) have taken account of my wanderings; Put my tears in Your bottle.
Are they not in Your book?" Psalm 56:8 Seriously, God cares so much about my pain that he collects my tears in a bottle. Amazing.

"For I know the plans I have for you "declares the Lord, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future." Jeremiah 29:11

His Mercies are New Every Morning (and another secret recipe)

I've been going through another pondering phase. I've tried to write several times, but my thoughts were going in so many different directions, it was futile. Today, I found my focus. It is in the title of this post.

I've been having neurological issues that I had been attributing to what I call my "brain thing"(the post stroke problem). However, there were new things coming up. I chose to ignore them. I mean, really, what is the likelihood that a person would have two brain things. I am going to be radical here and say that I really think God is the one who gave us the ability to block some things and keep them out of our minds. Otherwise, people might go nutso. I'm not saying it is good to avoid processing through things, but maybe some things can wait awhile until other stresses calm down a little.

Back to the story...about 4 months ago, I was at work and one of the doctors mentioned that a patient had ptosis (drooping) of just one eye. He said that was not good. I asked him why and he said that it was an indicator of a neurological disease. He said the name, but I did not remember it later. I told him that I had ptosis of my left eye. I noticed it about 6 months ago. He said it wasn't a problem if I were born with it. At that point, I wanted to have been born with it. I chose to block it out of my mind. However, leading up to and during my last hospitalization, I was developing weakness all over my body, instead of just on my right side and my voice would sound funny sometimes. When I went to my neurologist, she told me that she thought I probably had Myasthenic syndrome. I said, "that would be a bummer," and I left and went about my day, trying to keep that thought at bay.

One of the ways I survive life is by not focusing on my problems. I don't completely ignore them because if I did I would end up not treating my anaphylaxis and that would be fatal. I couldn't help but notice weakness, but I just went about my day and tried to ignore it. After the visit to the neurologist, I started paying attention and realized that there were different things going on with me. Sometimes I get weak and numb on my right side only and this is often associated with other symptoms I had during my stroke, such as expressive aphasia(not being able to speak the words I am thinking...have a voice, but the words will not come out), and right sided vision problems. However, at other times I just get weak with no numbness and no associated symptoms. Sometimes I have everything at once. Every day when I wake up I have my voice, then I have Katherine Hepburn's voice and then I have no voice. Every day when I wake up I am strong, then the more I move the weaker I get. All of these symptoms match Myasthenia. To say I am excited about this, would be a lie.

Now for the fun stuff, you know, the glad game. What have I learned? What is good about this? It is in the title of this blog! Every morning, I get to wake up to a new me. I have a voice. I have strong muscles. What a great reminder of God's mercies! They are new every morning! What a powerful reminder and encouragement.

Secondly, I have refined my ability to not worry about the future. It is more automatic. The other day I thought to myself, "I can't even walk on the beach anymore, because I wouldn't know how far I could go and I could lose my ability to walk and end up stranded. A wheelchair can't be pushed in the sand and by the time I got my strength back the tide may well have washed me out to sea." But then I said to myself, "I am not going to the beach today, so what does it matter?" It really doesn't matter. Who knows, I may go into remission tomorrow. I may not, but either way, each day I will have all I need to do what God wants me to do that day.

Some people compare me to Job in the Bible. Actually, lots of people do. However, he lost his children. I still have mine. We both had unsupportive spouses and both of us have/had health problems, but a huge difference other than the kid thing is that he had rotten friends who gave rotten advise. Here he was, a Godly man and they were telling him that all this happened to him because he sinned. That hasn't happened to me once. I have the best friends and family a person could have. In fact, at my family reunion, my family gathered around me and prayed over me. I am so lifted up by the people in my life. I am beyond grateful.

And since I am so beyond grateful and people are requesting my secret chili recipe, here it is...

Start by soaking in a lot of water(at least to twice the level of the beans)

       1 1/3 cups pinto beans

        1 1/3 cup kidney beans

       1 1/3 cups black beans

Soak all day or overnight. Pour into colander and rinse.

Fry up 4 pounds of ground beef and 1 medium onion in a very large pot.

Add 2 large cans tomato juice
2 quarts canned tomatoes
1/4 cup chili powder
1 tablespoon salt
1 tablespoon cornstarch
1 tablespoon minced dried garlic
1 tablespoon ground cumin
1 1/2 tsp coriander
1 1/2 tsp basil
1 1/2 tsp oregano
1 1/2 tsp crushed red pepper flakes
3/4 tsp pepper

I cook this all together for most of a day. Then I transfer it to a crock pot and cook for another day. Cooking it for so long blends the flavors nicely. This is not a spicey chili. If you want it "hotter", just adjust the spices accordingly.