Priceless

“May I join You?” I still feel the hesitance. He is God and I am just me. Unworthy. Little. Sinful.

                But He exudes joy at my presence. “Yes. Please. Of course. Come sit. Why do you keep asking? You know I want You to come and sit beside me. This is Your spot I’ve saved for You. Please come sit and join me.”

                “Thank You, Abba. For loving me.”

                He just smiles.

                It’s quiet. Then He asks, “Do you doubt my love for you?”

                “No,” I answer. Not quickly and defensively. But slowly and thoughtfully. “No. I don’t doubt it. I just wonder why.”

                “Because I made you. Because you’re mine.”

                Again it’s quiet.

                “Now what are you wondering?”

                “Why did you make me so flawed?” The question comes out without me really thinking about it. When I hear it, I’m shocked. Am I blaming God for who I am?

                “What are the flaws you see?” He asks, without a trace of anger.

                I think.

                “I’m impatient. I get angry. I forget to visit You, or worse, I refuse to. I have dark spots inside.”

                “Dark spots?”

                “Dark spots. Areas I can’t go. Things I won’t think about. But that make me who I am.”

                “And were they there when I made you?”

                “No. Living my life put them there.”

                “So I didn’t make the dark spots –“

                “And You didn’t make me flawed.”

                “So, just because what I made got dirty, should I love it any less?”

                “No.”

                Long silence.

                “Can I have your dark spots?”

                “Will I have to look at them to give them to You?”

                “Maybe. Do you trust me?”

                “Yes.” Emphatically. Immediately. “Yes, I trust You. You may have my dark spots. You may have my life. You may have my son. My crafts. My gifts. My money. My clothes. My emotions. My time. My present. My future. And You may have my past.”

                “Thank you. I give you back today.”

                “That’s it?” But it’s not a complaint. It’s a joyful release. A realization that all I’m required to do is live today. All I’m responsible for is right now. No worries about tomorrow. No regrets about yesterday. I only have today.

                “That’s it.” And there’s happy laughter in His voice. Perhaps even pride that I’d begun to catch on? And love. Lot’s of love.

                “Yes. I trust You.” I say again.

                “So what will you do?” He asks.

                “Hmm?” I was lost in thought of trust, love, friends.

                “So what will You do with today?”

                “What do You want me to do?”

                “Live.”

                And a couple of doubts creep in. A couple of fears crop up. I need more details. I want more specifics. How do I live? What exactly should I do? But He’s quiet.

                “I’ve already told you all that,” he finally answers.

                But I want more. I want direct orders to follow.

                “Why?”

                “So I don’t make any mistakes. I trust You. I just don’t trust me. Make me trustworthy. Make me worthwhile.”

                “Your worth is the price I paid for you. Your worth is the extent of My love for you.”

                “That would make me priceless.”

                “Exactly.”

                And my mind jumped a couple of steps ahead. “That would make everyone around me priceless.”

                “Exactly.”

                “So that’s what I’ll do today.”

                “What?”

                “I’ll feed Your sheep. I’ll love Your people.”

                “Thank you.”

                “Thank You.” And I jump up off the savior’s mat and run back to my kitchen to begin baking.

Giving Up...

I just got home from a follow-up with my plastic surgeon. I’m at peace now as I type this, curled up on my couch under a crocheted blanket, watching Stella devour her late supper. But I think I experienced every emotion possible on my drive home. And I’m tired.

The appointment did not go at all as I expected. 

But then, most of them don’t. At the last one, the doctor and nurse had come in, checked out the stitches, smiled, said everything looked good, and walked out again all before I’d had a chance to open my mouth and say hi.

At the one before that, the doctor had escorted me into his “back room” and done a procedure that I thought we were simply going to be making an appointment for.

He’s full of surprises.

But I guess I am, too. And I had been trying to tell him about my new plans for the past two appointments.

You see, after the last procedure, I had decided it was time to try something new.

It had hit me (again) that every surgery, procedure, and stitch was done to make me look normal. But I wanted to be normal. I wanted to be just another woman out there – without the scars, discolorations, radiation tattoos, and cancer reminders. Somehow, every time I headed into surgery, I expected this to be The One. And every time, it wasn’t. 

No matter how hard he works, my plastic surgeon can’t give me what I had to let go of.

I almost wrote “what cancer took from me.” But I didn’t. Because it didn’t. Cancer didn’t take my breasts. I surrendered them. Because I wanted to live – and that was a small price to pay for survival.

So I realized again, that I will never be “normal.” But that I can be Me.

 I began exploring other options, and I discovered mastectomy tattoos. There are many, many other women out there who have walked where I’m stumbling along, and they’ve created their own normal. They’ve found a new beauty. They’ve created a canvas that tells their story with joy – replacing what they let go of with something they can hold on to with pride.

I went into today’s appointment planning to tell my surgeon that I wanted to stop reconstruction efforts and instead get another tattoo. 

He came in, sat down in a chair facing me, and slowly said that he was sorry but that he couldn’t help me anymore. He said that he felt like we’d been running a marathon, and we could actually see the finish line, but that he just couldn’t get me there. He’s not fully happy with the results, but there’s nothing else he can do. At least not now, maybe someday in the future.  He loved the idea of a mastectomy tattoo, and can’t wait to see what I end up doing.

As I sat there, listening to him talk, and slowly nodding my head, I’m thinking, “Ok. He wants to stop. This is what I wanted. So why am I suddenly trying not cry?” And I realized that he was giving up. 

The doctor who from day one had kept saying, “Yup. We can do that,” was suddenly and abruptly admitting defeat. “I’ll see you in a year.” 

After three years of seeing him every three months or more, six surgeries and a handful of procedures, and who-knows-how-many stitches, he gave me a hug and walked me to the door. I walked out. I thought about sitting down in the waiting room to text a friend, but the frugal part of my brain encouraged me to go pay for parking first.

I paid my ticket. Got in my car, and drove home.

I cried a little. I mourned the loss of choice. For a moment it felt again like cancer had won. I was angry for a moment, too. How dare he give up on me!!! He promised!! I was frustrated. I was scared. I was sad – I hadn’t expected to say good-bye to him today. It’s funny how we can get used to seeing doctors, and actually start to miss them a little. And then I was simply tired.

I’m still tired. It’s been a long journey. Six and a half years since diagnosis. I guess it’s a good time for a hiatus. A good time to stop and rest. Reflect on what’s been done, ponder on what I can still do.

As I typed that last paragraph, I remembered the phrase that Abba whispered to me as I lay in my first MRI tube. “Be still, and know that I am God.”

He is God. And not only is He God, but He is Love. And he is All-Knowing and All-Powerful. He will never walk away from me, and He will never, ever, ever give up on me.

Today

Every now and again, I begin to wonder what on earth I’m here for. Am I fulfilling my purpose? Am I making a difference? Or am I simply getting up in the morning and getting through each day? Am I wasting my time?

So today, I took notes. Here’s what I came away with:

Today – I got stuck behind a schoolbus on the way to work – and only complained for a little before I prayed for all the people on the bus.

Today I ate an apple.

Today I danced in the hallway with a child because he had a good morning.

Today I sat on the floor and read a book out loud.

Today I typed up the minutes from our last deacons’ meeting.

Today I listened to a 25 year old man proudly reading the two page report he’d written this morning.

Today I puddle jumped.

Today I walked 10,800 steps.

Today I crouched by the chair of a crying student, and listened, until he was ready to smile again.

Today I spent time on my knees with the Beginner of time.

Today I showed a group of students how to work together to learn something new.

Today I found a partner for a lonely child.

Today I taught an angry child how to spell ‘squid’ as I sat calmly beside him.

Today I shared advice with the sub next door.

Today I modeled good behavior in the hallway – and then celebrated with my class when the principal complemented them on their own good behavior.

Today I listened to 12 students reading the realistic fiction stories they’d written, and I edited 12 more.

Today I laughed at a child’s joke – not because it was funny, but because he had so much fun telling it.

Today I watched a light turn on in a little mind that suddenly understood double digit subtraction with regrouping.

Today I played with my adopted kitten until she was an exhausted purring puddle on the carpet.

Today I exercised.

Today I walked up the same flight of stairs six times.

Today I read a chapter in God’s love letter to me.

Today I colored in ten more boxes on the hundreds chart on our Wall of Fame.

Today I let my students ask questions and get me off the lesson plan, because I knew they would learn more.

Today I danced with a child in the hallway because he’d turned a bad afternoon around.

Today I told my students about a mistake I had made, to show them that it's ok to make mistakes.

Today I texted my son to remind him he is loved.

Today I hi-fived a boy for finishing a test.

Today I got more hugs than I could count.

Today I sat down to blog.

So what do you think?

I’m thinking I might be in the right place after all…

How about you? What did you do today?

My Resolution

Happy New Year!

I realize that I’m a little late posting my New Year’s resolutions. Most people have already broken theirs by now. But I wanted to be sure this year. I wanted to come up with something fabulous and truly life changing. After all, according to my long-ago teenage self, this is the year I turn “really, really old.” I need to make it count.

While Christmas shopping, I bought myself a Fitbit bracelet. I’ve been tracking my calories (consumed and destroyed) as well as exercising daily. I’ve been walking more and I even hit my fitbit’s goal of 10,000 steps three days in a row (the first time was in the Dairy Queen parking lot heading to my car after savoring a hot fudge Sunday. I almost turned around to go back in and celebrate!). 

A friend posted on Facebook that she was going to do The Daniel Plan. Always looking for an excuse to buy another book, I got onto Amazon and placed an order. The last package (you need to spend $35 to get free shipping, so you can’t just buy one book) arrived yesterday, and this morning I plopped down on the couch and read the first three chapters.

Yup. There’s a New Year’s resolution in there somewhere.  And it’s a big one. I suggest you read it…

So here it is. This year, in 2014, I want to become healthy in all realms of my life: physically, mentally, emotionally, and spiritually.

It’s going to be a lot of work, and I won’t be able to do it on my own. But My God wants to see me succeed even more than I do. And then, there’s always all of you, right? 

So today’s task was to sit down and figure out: What does spiritually, emotionally, mentally, and physically healthy look like?

Hmm. Well, here goes. To me being healthy means that my bills are paid, I’m fully connected with family and friends, my house is clean (to my standards, perhaps not my Grandmother’s), my sink is not overflowing with dirty dishes, and the laundry hamper lid can close. I escape often to meet my Savior in the woods, or down by the lake. I do my job well, am an appropriate weight, and have clothes that fit me nicely. I’m able to climb the occasional mountain and do jump and jacks with my students. I have mental clarity, and can make decisions quickly and confidently. My hair is healthy, my nails are painted, my heartburn is under control. My teeth are clean and my breath smells nice; my feet and back don’t hurt. I don’t worry about opinions, don’t hide in my hermit cave, and I don’t pursue reconstruction procedures because I feel that I ought to but I take the brave steps that my heart longs to. I laugh daily, giggle occasionally, and my soul is filled to the brim with a gentle joy and His quiet peace. 

And there it is. My New Year’s resolution.

I’m going to strive to become the Me He created me to be.

So here’s my question for you. What does healthy look like in you?