Author: Kristin

I find that I think best when I write. If you choose to follow me, you will get a first-hand look at my thoughts as I contemplate life as a woman, wife, mother, daughter, writer, teacher, and follower of Jesus. Issues that seem to recur revolve around parenting, ministry, chronic illness, and teaching.

A glimpse at autoimmunity

~ Kristin ~ 3 Comments

Almost five weeks ago I decided I should call my eye doctor.  I have recurring HSV (herpes) in my left eye, and I was sensing that a flare was brewing.  Since we were supposed to leave on vacation at the end of the week, I thought I should be seen by my cornea specialist before we left town.  He agreed.

He examined my eyes and said I looked ‘normal’ and should be fine on my vacation.  I exhaled,  thanked him for fitting me into his schedule, then went to see my integrative medicine specialist.  She, too, said I looked pretty good, but thought I could be doing even better.  She prescribed a supplement that would work on the cellular level to address the cause of my autoimmune difficulties.  Feeling hopeful, I  thanked her  and went to the chiropractor.

I know, I know.  Three docs in one day.  I try to schedule them this way because I don’t like going to the doctor, so if I have to go, I want to do them back-to-back and get it over with.

The chiropractor, too, said I looked good.  He adjusted my sacroiliac joint, my back, and my neck and sent me to “have a great vacation!”  I was all set.  I had the blessing of my docs; in two short days we would be on our way.

Because we were going to be gone for two weeks, I had three students to see that afternoon. Halfway through the second session, my student looked at me and said, “what’s wrong with your eye?”  Now, my eyes are typically a little red, so I wasn’t terribly alarmed, but he is a fourteen year old boy, so the fact that he noticed anything outside of himself was a little remarkable.  I went to the restroom and noticed that indeed my left eye was quite red and, as a matter of fact, somewhat painful.

This is how things go sometimes in the world of autoimmunity.  Just when you think you are doing fine, you aren’t.

The next morning I called Kellogg Eye Center and explained, yes, I was just seen yesterday, but a lot has changed in twenty-four hours.  My eye is flaming red and I can’t really open it when I’m outside because of the pain I am experiencing.  They got me right in.

It wasn’t HSV.  No.  It was a new malady — episcleritis, the inflammation of the lining of the eye.  The doctor thought that 800mg of ibuprofen three times a day should do the trick.  I balked at this because I have been off all anti-inflammatory meds and pain meds for several months.  However, she pressed me and said that it wouldn’t likely go away without them.

It took most of the weekend visiting with our granddaughter before my eye was feeling mostly better.  It was still a bit red, but I was determined to enjoy our vacation.  Yes, I had to wear glasses instead of contacts, but over the past four years that has become a fairly regular practice due to the herpes.

Feeling hopeful, we set off for our next location, Northport, MI.  The first two days there were fine. I kept taking my ibuprofen while we visited with friends and family in this beautiful area of Michigan.  However, the third morning, I woke around 5am with intense pain in my eye and through the upper left portion of my head.  I took my medication.  I applied a warm compress.  I stood in a warm shower.  Nothing gave me relief.  After a series of phone calls, my husband drove me forty minutes to see the nearest cornea specialist.

They got me right in!  In fact, within one hour I was seen by two doctors who agreed that I needed to be on prednisone — in both oral and eye drop form.  Because of my HSV, they also increased my anti-viral meds to prevent  an HSV flare.  I would have to come back the next day to make sure this treatment was working.

It worked well!  I got relief from the intense pain within the first hour!  The following day the doctor didn’t even recognize me because I had been so transformed from a writhing mass of pain into a functioning human.  Since episcleritis is so insidious, the treatment involves a very slow taper away from the prednisone. That is why, five weeks later, I am still on it.

Now let me tell you the blessings of prednisone.  I have had a significant increase in energy.  I enjoyed our vacation immensely!  What typically wears me out seemed routine. I not only enjoyed the beach and visiting with friends and family, I also had the energy to read late into the night.  Not only that, but within about a week of starting the prednisone, I was virtually pain free!  No eye pain, no hip pain, no neck pain. No pain! Anyone who lives with chronic illness will tell you that being pain-free is not really even a goal.  We have come to terms with the fact that we are going to have a certain level of pain at all times.  Being virtually pain-free for the last four weeks has been a blessing I never would have expected.

Prednisone does have its drawbacks though.  For one, especially in the beginning when the doses are high, sleep is difficult.  Some nights I barely slept at all.  Fortunately, I was not working during this time, so if I stayed up all night reading or putting together a puzzle, I could walk around zombie-like the next day with very little consequence.  Secondly, while on prednisone, people tend to put on weight.  Since autoimmune disease often leads to weight gain on its own, this additional challenge was not welcome.  I had been very disciplined to lose about six pounds over about four months only to have half of it come right back on.  Three pounds doesn’t sound like much, but my body takes it off very slowly.  Finally, prednisone regimens usually involve a decrease in dosage over time, so eventually, some of the benefits wear off.

Translation — I’m now on a mere fraction of the original dose.  I’m sleeping more easily, but the pain in my joints is starting to creep back in.  Not only that, I’m a little nervous that the episcleritis will come back.  Yesterday morning I woke with that familiar headache in the upper left portion of my head.  I took my meds and it mostly went away, but I wonder what will happen when I am off prednisone completely.

This is another feature of autoimmunity — trying to find the right treatment balance when the body is always changing.  One drug will manage a particular symptom or set of symptoms but will also cause a series of side effects.  Sometimes another drug is prescribed to manage those side effects.  Many people, like me, choose to limit/eliminate pharmaceuticals because of those side effects.  We might try diet, exercise, homeopathic remedies, or treatments such as physical therapy or chiropractic care to manage our symptoms.  Sometimes our strategies work for a season or even years. Often, they fall short and we have to try different options.

It’s a journey to be sure.  It can be time-consuming, frustrating, plan-changing, and life-altering.  Sometimes I get angry that I am living with this disease, but mostly I have accepted this as my reality.  And, weirdly enough, I am often thankful for its impact on my life.

In the past four years I have experienced a multitude of negative symptoms, but I have also had the blessing of slowing down. Slowing down has afforded me the opportunity to pay better attention to the people around me, to read more, to write more, to think more, to enjoy more.  It’s weird, but it’s good.

 

Romans 8:28

And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.

Hope, re-visit

~ Kristin ~ 1 Comment

After writing Monday’s post (found here), I stumbled across this one from March 2016, that uses some of the exact same language. This happens quite often — I find that I return to the same topics over and over again. I keep returning to the same lessons, the same messages, the same truths. So, here’s a message from 2016, brought forward to 2019…and I imagine, I’ll return again in the years to come.

I don’t know about you, but I’ve been tempted to feel a little pessimistic lately. The presidential campaigns, acts of violence, international events, and their portrayal by the media could make a girl pretty cynical. Add to that the postings on Facebook and Twitter, and I might just walk around grumbling about the ‘terrible state of the world’.  I might even be heard muttering things like, “this country is a mess,” “it’s only going to get worse,” etc.

I start, actually, to sound like someone who has no hope.

But I do! I do have hope. I have hope for our country in the midst of the current political climate. I have hope amidst senseless acts of violence. I have hope regardless of how afraid and desperate the media would like to encourage me to be.

Why? Why do I have hope? Because our God — the God who created the world out of nothing, the God who designed the intricacies of the human body and mind, the God who provided His own Son to suffer the consequences of our sin, the God who has provided for me every day of my life, the God who has blessed me and my family beyond what we ever could ask or imagine — is still on the throne.

And he is not aloof. No. He is actively involved in the lives of His creation. He has seen every political speech, and He can discern every lie from every truth. He knows already who will be elected, and He has the power to make any result work together for good. He has watched every mass shooting; He has stood amidst the chaos as lives were cut short. He sees the motives of the assailants and the fear of the victims. He alone can comfort those who mourn and intervene to prevent future devastation. He knows how much money each of us has in our savings account and in our pocket; He knows our needs even before we ask. Not one of us is forgotten by God.

We have hope. God’s people have faced worse — 400 years of slavery in Egypt, 40 years of wandering in the wilderness, persecution, division, war, famine — and God has been able to step into these circumstances and work miracles.

He is still able.  He acts in spite of man’s foolishness, selfishness, and sinfulness. He acts because He loves us; He created us and calls us to His purposes.

I believe that one of those purposes is to be flag-bearers of hope in a world that is tempted to lose hope. I have been falling down on the job lately. I have not been communicating the hope that I have inside of me.  So, today I turn.

Hope with me, will you?

May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit.

Romans 15:13

Writing

~ Kristin ~ Leave a comment

Over the last several weeks I have been thinking about writing and writing instruction.  In a little over a week I will be leading two groups of high school students through a summer course in essay writing.  In the fall I will be teaching three sections of freshmen the fundamentals of writing at the college level.  With these courses in mind, I read Anne Lamott’s Bird by Bird. I’ve also got Axelrod and Cooper’s Concise Guide to Writing 

I spend a lot of time reading, writing, and talking about writing.  I know it’s not as important to everyone else as it is to me, just like I know that some people care more about balancing their checkbook than I do.  (Like everyone.)  I try not to make every single conversation about writing, but all of my conversations are inextricably linked to my writing process.  It’s like I’m carrying a giant Santa-bag full of words over my shoulder.  In conversations, I am able to off-load some of the words in my sack, but at the same time, the words of others are crawling up the sides and into the mouth of that same sack. They mingle in there, all those words.  They jumble; they bump against each other.  They smooth each other’s edges. They rearrange and form ideas that I hadn’t thought of before.

All that shuffling and processing goes on and on…then I sit down to write, and stuff comes out of my fingers in ways that I had never imagined.  I start picturing, for instance, that my words are kept in a giant Santa-bag, but that other  people carry all of their words, at least the ones that they want to share, in an attractive little Coach bag neatly slung across their body.  I can’t even imagine that!  I am constantly stumbling along, wielding this enormous load of words — they are continually falling out, even when I try to close the top of the bag or shove it in the trunk of my car.

This is why I write. I write to use up some of the words in that bulky sack.  I write to allow the newly formed ideas some space to express themselves.  I write to protect you, my friends, from the fire hose of words that would come streaming out of my mouth uncontrollably if I did not temper the flow by putting 500 to 1000 words on the page in a day.

I teach writing because not everyone is as obsessed about the written word as I am, but almost everyone has to find a way to put their words down in print for one reason or another. Some people, I’ve found, want to improve their writing so that their work emails won’t be misconstrued.  Some have to improve their writing so that they can be admitted into a college or program.  Others are quite proficient in writing in another language but struggle to convey their meaning in English.  And occasionally, a student wanders into my class, stumbling through the door, trying to find a space to cram his extra large Hefty bag full of words.  He looks desperate.  His eyes search my face pleadingly.  I smile knowingly, show him where to sling his bag, pull out a chair, and tell him to start writing it all down.

He’s overwhelmed, of course.  How could he possibly put it all down?  Have I seen that bag?  I nod compassionately and show him my Santa bag sitting outside the window of the classroom — it no longer fits through the door.   He swallows hard, opens a blank notebook, and looks up at me.  I nod and urge him on.  His pen starts moving across the page.  He doesn’t notice the other students filling in the chairs around him.He doesn’t look up when I start class. He doesn’t realize, either, an hour later when they’ve all left to go to their next classes.  He’s still bent over his notebook.

So, I sit down, too.  I open my notebook and pick up where I left off.  We sit there and put our words on paper until they stop streaming out of our pens…or until we are exhausted or famished.

Then quietly we push back from our desks, shove our notebooks into our bags, and notice that they are a bit more manageable to carry.  Our steps are a little lighter.  We nod silently at one another and each go our own way.

For those moments and so many more, I am thankful for writing.

2 Corinthians 12: 4-6

There are different kinds of gifts, but the same Spirit distributes them. 5 There are different kinds of service, but the same Lord. 6 There are different kinds of working, but in all of them and in everyone it is the same God at work.

Returning

~ Kristin ~ Leave a comment

No, I did not fall off the planet.  No, I did not abandon my blog.  Yes, I did stay away from it fro the longest stretch of time since I started writing it two years ago.  And, just like everything other discipline, the longer you stay away, the harder it is to get back on track.

When I was in high school, my band director said that we should practice every single day, even if only for 10-15 minutes.  He impressed on me the idea that every day I did NOT practice would take two days to get back to my current level of skill.  I think he wanted to scare me into consistent practice, and his method worked for a while.  However, it had an unintended consequence.  After I left the high school band, and didn’t play my flute for several months, I considered his math and decided that I didn’t have enough time in my life to get back to the level of skill I had currently enjoyed.  I mean, if I hadn’t played for 180 days, it would take me 36o days of consecutive practice just to get back on track!  I was exhausted just thinking about it!  I haven’t played my flute in years.

Exercise is similar, isn’t it?  I used to be a distance runner.  I completed two half-marathons and several 5K and 10K races.  It was typical for me to run 3-5 miles 5-6 days each week with occasional longer runs.  In fact, at one point, three miles felt like an “off” day — like I hadn’t really run at all.  I was in excellent physical condition.  At that point, I could not run for several days in a row (although that rarely happened) and still have the capacity to easily run five miles.  In fact, sometimes a break of three or four days would make me crave that run. When I finally had the time and opportunity to put on my running shoes, I would burst out the door with a ridiculous grin on my face, thrilled to be back at it.  However, now that illness has limited my ability to run, and I haven’t run three miles in  over three years, the idea of getting back to that level of fitness is a bit daunting.

I have a mixture of feelings as I sit here today.  I am thrilled to be back at my blog after a long absence, but I don’t really know how to get back to where I was.  What thread should I start with? health? work? teaching? writing? I’ve been wanting to post all week, but I keep finding other things to do — cook, clean, meet a friend for coffee, see a student, work on a puzzle, weed the garden.  This morning, I determined that I would finally sit down and write, but I wandered around the house a bit first.  What am I going to write about?  Where do I begin?

It took me a moment to remember my practice — my routine.  Drink smoothie. Check. Drink green tea. Check. Brew black tea. Check. Sit down, Kristin, sit down. Open your Bible study. That’s right.  Read it.  Turn to the Word. Psalm 107:20: “He sent forth his word and healed them; he rescued them from the grave.”

Yes, yes He did.  He sent forth his Word and rescued me from the grave. Let’s start there today.  It’s not difficult to go back to God’s Word, even after a long absence.  You don’t have to build stamina.  You don’t have to get back to a former level of performance.  “Behold, He makes all things new.”  He breathes His breath of life into us each moment that we turn to Him.

We give ourselves all kinds of laws and expectations, don’t we? I’m going to eat healthfully, exercise five times a week, blog every day, etc. Our intentions are good, but often, when we don’t meet our expectations, we beat ourselves up with the shoulda coulda woulda messages.  These messages have unintended consequences.  Instead of propelling us back to positive disciplines, they bury us in shame and prevent us from doing what we want to do most.

So, today I turn.  I turn back to His Word.   I turn away from self-blame and self-shame and embrace the God who healed me and rescued me from the grave.  “His mercies are new every morning,” and my mercies can be, too.

Lamentations 3:23

Great is your faithfulness.

Creativity

~ Kristin ~ 1 Comment

Just under two years ago, as I said goodbye to teaching in St. Louis so that I could move to Michigan with my husband, I imagined that I would take four to six months to rest and recover and then I would find a job and get back to some kind of ‘normal’ life.  My limited view couldn’t see what God had planned for me.  I couldn’t imagine how He would allow me to experiment with different types and levels of employment so that I could see for myself what would be fulfilling, draining, energizing, depleting… I couldn’t envision a life where I would have so much freedom to learn and grow.  I couldn’t see how He could provide for us financially, so He had to show me.

In the past two years I have worked for Reuters as an election agent, tutored students in English, writing, reading, study skills and test preparation, participated in intensive reading and writing instruction, edited everything from a young adult novel to a Master’s thesis on cancer-treating drugs, scored standardized math assessments, and taught college-level writing and literature courses.

And though that sounds like a lot, I’ve had the luxury of making new friends, participating in a regular Bible study, joining a new church family, working out consistently at a local gym, reading dozens of books, visiting family across the state, exploring Ann Arbor and Ypsilanti with my husband, and providing a refuge for my daughters as they navigated some difficult life situations.  Not only that, I’ve had time to experiment with medical strategies — discarding some, embracing others — to find ways to feel better both physically and emotionally.

Much of that journey has been chronicled in this blog. I think I started writing imagining that I would arrive at a destination — that I would someday get to “The Next Chapter.” However, I think the theme of this chapter is learning to live in the process, to trust that God knows what is coming next and He is preparing me for it. I’m learning to not look too far ahead, but to enjoy each moment.

This morning, I was supposed to be doing some online scoring, but ETS contacted me and said that due to reduced volume, I was not needed and would still receive half of my pay for the morning.  So, I stayed in bed reading a great book a little longer than usual.  I got up, straightened the kitchen, made my tea, and picked up my old faithful devotional, Whispers of Hope by Beth Moore.  After having set it down for a while to study Hosea and Breathe, I turned to the first page to start my third journey through this book.

Was I surprised that the message applied directly to my life? Not really.  I’m starting to expect it.  I no longer get stunned when I see a message like this: “What God is doing in your life right now may not make sense to you, but it’s not because He’s nonsensical.  It’s because He’s creative…In His wisdom God knew [His creation] was good because He knew what was coming next.  He knows what’s coming next for you…Give God room to be completely creative.”

Two years ago, I had no idea what was coming next.  It was pure obedience (plus exhaustion and a touch of desperation) to move here with no plan. Granted, He had made it quite obvious that we should take this leap of faith by providing a position that was custom-crafted for my husband in Michigan, which we both call home, but still, for a chronic planner and do-er, it was a totally new experience.

What God was doing in our lives did not make sense to me, but it wasn’t because He was nonsensical.  It was because He had a creative response to my self-destructive soldiering ways. He had information that was beyond my scope.  He knew what was coming next. And in my exhaustion, I was willing to allow him the room to be completely creative.

Guess how creative He is — He’s giving me the opportunity to teach high school students from across the country and around the world this summer at the University of Michigan. I’ll get to speak into their writing process and, hopefully, into their lives.  He’s allowing me to lead three sections of writing at Concordia in the fall — a three-minute walk from my kitchen to my classroom. And – gasp – He’s orchestrated an opportunity for my husband and me to chaperone a group of students to Israel for two weeks in January!

Could I have imagined all of that two short years ago? Not in a million years.  I was picturing myself shelving books at the public library. Not that that would’ve been a bad gig; perhaps that’ll be the next Next Chapter.  For now, I’m pretty content in this chapter and grateful to its Author.

Jeremiah 29:11

“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 a hope and a future.”

 

 

 

The manna-Giver

~ Kristin ~ Leave a comment

Am I “more consumed with conserving and accumulating manna than in honoring the manna-Giver”?  That’s the question that stopped me in my tracks this morning.

Let’s take a stroll back to Exodus 16.  The Israelites, newly emancipated from Egypt, fresh from their crossing of the Red Sea, quickly forget these miraculous works of God and start complaining because they are thirsty and hungry.  They don’t say, “God, you brought us out of Egypt; you’re amazing!  You parted the Red Sea; you’re incredible! We know you will provide food and drink!”  No, they say, “He should’ve left us to die in Egypt, at least there we would’ve had food.”

Stupid ungrateful Israelites.

But God, being God, casually brings fresh water from a rock and rains down manna from the sky.  You know, casually.  And He tells Moses that they should only gather what they need for each day because God will gladly provide them enough.  They don’t have to horde or worry. God, who got them out of Egypt, who parted a whole sea, who brought water from a rock, who made bread fall from the sky, said He would provide enough each day. But, the Israelites decided to, you know, just grab a little extra to make sure.

Stupid untrusting Israelites.

So, my (your?) story is not too different.  I wasn’t exactly a slave in Egypt, but I have been a slave to many things — my eating disorder way back in the 80s, my fears about money, my need to control, …. and as the king said, “etcetera, etcetera…” I didn’t walk across the dry bed of an ocean or anything, but I did witness the freeing words of Christ come out of the mouth of an agnostic therapist, I have witnessed over and over God’s financial provision when it didn’t make any sense at all, I have been taken away from my life of soldiering into a time of rest…Etcetera, Etcetera.  And still, like the Israelites, I complain and fret…

Stupid ungrateful me.

For some reason I look back on my life of slavery and remember how proud I was to be so thin, forgetting that I couldn’t think/remember/drive/communicate. I look longingly at the times that I kicked butts and took names, forgetting that my self-sufficiency felt lonely and isolated.  I long for financial security and try to store away extra, forgetting how God has consistently and faithfully provided for all of my needs.

Stupid untrusting me.

The manna-Giver has rained down bread from heaven so many times in our married life. When we had young children and seemingly un-payable medical bills, He provided. When we went to the seminary, people we didn’t even know provided for our tuition and even Christmas gifts for our children. When an error in withholding resulted in a tax bill that we couldn’t imagine ever paying, He met that need. When, just this week, one of our children didn’t know how to find the money to pay for summer tuition, within hours, a scholarship was provided to pay the bill in full. Etcetera, Etcetera.

And yet I am tempted, just like the Israelites to, instead of praising and thanking the manna-Giver, become “consumed with conserving and accumulating manna.”

This is one more area where I need to “resist the urge to continue”.  When I am “bent on turning” to go back to those days of slavery, I need stop, dead in my tracks, and remember the mighty works of God who has freed me, fed me, and provided for me in every way.

I can trust that His character does not change.

I can trust that He holds me in the palm of His hand.

 

Now to Him who is able to do exceedingly abundantly above all that we ask or think, according to the power that works in us, 21 to Him be glory in the church by Christ Jesus to all generations, forever and ever. Amen.

Ephesians 3: 20-21

 

Catch phrases, re-visit

~ Kristin ~ Leave a comment

This post, first written in April 2016 and revised in March 2019, might resonate with you if you just can’t stop trying to go it alone.

Recently, I wrote about how Jennifer Rothschild’s Hosea pointed out that I am ‘bent on turning’ away from God. Now, Priscilla Shirer has told me to “resist the urge to continue”.  Let me see if I can unpack what this phrase means to me.

I’ve spent significant white space in this blog discussing my ‘soldiering years’ — my long period of working hard and believing that I was tackling all of life’s challenges on my own, thank you very much. Although I was removed from that life of self-sufficiency by my chronic illness, the pattern of striving is deep in my DNA and hard to leave behind. I still try to turn back to that old way of living, filling my days with work and achievement in order to convince myself that I have control over my life. Even though I have been given this opportunity to live a life that has a slower pace, fewer demands, and plenty of time to take care of myself, connect with God, and care for the people around me, I still am bent on turning back to the familiar — soldiering.

Now, sure, it looks a little different than it once did. Instead of power walking down the hall in an a-line skirt and heels intimidating poor little freshmen into tucking in their shirts and getting to class on time, I now wear comfortable clothes and sensible shoes and typically move at a much slower pace as I work with and encourage one student at a time. However, the underlying drive is the same — a need to be busy, to prove my worth, to make myself useful, to be in control.

It’s a rhythm that has felt comfortable to me for quite a while. Although I don’t always like working as hard as I do, the rhythm makes me feel safe. It assures me. It’s a way I’ve come to know.

Priscilla Shirer in Breathe: Making Room for the Sabbath, recalls that the Israelites, too, had found a rhythm that was familiar during their 400 years of slavery in Egypt. They had worked hard and long under the fearsome watch of the taskmaster. They had labored in the heat with very little rest their whole lives. You might think it would be easy to leave all that behind and live according to the commands God gave them, but old habits die hard. Perhaps one of the hardest challenges for the Israelites (and for me) was believing that God would provide for all of their needs even if they took time to rest.

Shirer points out that God did provide the Israelites with enough manna for each day — their ‘daily bread’. They were to collect only what they would eat that day, and not try to store up extra. They were to trust that the next day He would provide again. But you know, they hadn’t had plenty to eat in a long time, so they figured it would be wasteful to throw the extra away. They kept it and woke up the next day to find it rotten and worm-infested. They were given a double portion on the sixth day so that they could observe the sabbath on the seventh. Regardless, some of those Israelites still went out on the sabbath looking for manna, but they didn’t find any. They didn’t find any because they didn’t need any;  God had already provided plenty.

Silly Israelites.

Cricket — cricket.

Yeah, I’m silly, too.

All that time I was soldiering away, God had already provided for all our needs. Even though I might like to think that I somehow made the life of my family healthier, stronger, or more provided-for, I was really in all my soldiering making our experience as a family worse. I was overlooking God’s provision. I was failing to take a sabbath. I was forgetting to turn to Him with all my needs. And even though sometimes I got a glimpse at what was happening, I couldn’t resist the urge to continue. My pattern was comfortable. It felt safe. Putting down my weapons, falling to my knees, and admitting my helplessness before God was, at that time, out of the question.

It’s still tempting for me to believe that admitting my helplessness before God is out of the question. But guys, shouldn’t it be out of the question for me not to admit my helplessness before God?

It’s got to be.

It’s got to be out of the question for me to think that I can possibly work hard enough to make myself useful, to prove my own worth, or to be in control. It’s got to be beyond my imagination that I would think that I know more than God or that I am above the need for a sabbath. It’s got to be completely ludicrous for me to believe for one minute that I can do anything at all that God hasn’t already done for me.

It’s got to be.

And yet, I’m bent on turning…turning back to that old life, that old comfortable way. I’m just like the Israelites. So, when I see myself turning, and I almost always do, I’ve got an opportunity to resist the urge to continue.  I can stop dead in my tracks as I’m heading back to Egypt. I can say to myself, “Really? You wanna go back there?”

I can choose to admit to myself that all my soldiering was a façade on a frightened little girl who didn’t believe that her Father had gladly given her the kingdom. But He has, guys, He has gladly given us His kingdom.

I think it’s time I learned to resist the urge to continue.

Luke 12:32

Do not be afraid, little flock, for your Father has been pleased to give you the kingdom.

Marginally Speaking, revisit

~ Kristin ~ 1 Comment

This post was written in April 2016 — after the first period on the couch and before the second. I was in motion, and I chose to reduce the amount of time I spent on the phone to put more margin into my life. However, my recent stay on the couch may have returned me to some old habits, so I am re-visiting this post in October 2019 to inspire a return to that practice as get back of the couch.

Sometimes when God nudges us to make a change, we make that change and then slowly over time notice the benefits. Other times, we get an immediate indicator that we are heading in the right direction. That happened for me this week.

If you read my recent post, Margin, you know that I decided to turn off my phone from 8pm to 8am every day. I made that decision just two days ago while sitting right here on this futon doing my Bible study. I blogged about it then went through my day. I got home Tuesday night, played all my turns on Words With Friends, checked Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram, then turned off my phone a bit before 8.

I wasn’t quite ready to go to bed, so I sat next to my husband, crocheting and watching Bizarre Foods. We watched and laughed at its ridiculousness, then I crawled into bed and settled in to read.

Typically after an evening of watching TV and constantly checking my phone, I can read for thirty to sixty minutes before falling asleep. Not Tuesday. Nope. I got into my comfortable position, opened my book, and made it through two or three pages before I had to surrender to sleep. I slept hard.

I woke up the next morning around 7:15am. Usually, the first thirty to sixty minutes of my day are spent in bed checking email, messages, Facebook, etc. But it was 7:15, and I had made a commitment to keep the phone off until 8am, so I crawled out of bed, showered, made my breakfast beverages, and dressed for a day of Bible study, teaching and tutoring. Around 8, I checked messages and emails and noticed that I had missed a call, so I messaged the friend who had rang me, talked to my husband for a few minutes before he left for work, then settled in to prepare for Bible study.

The phone rang. The same friend called to explain why she had called — to talk through the fact that her day was not going the way that she had planned. She’d had an interruption that was causing her to spend an extra two hours on the road to retrieve an item that had been left on our campus. I commiserated with her then hung up to go back to my Bible study about margins.

I started reading then thought to myself, “You’re dressed.” Yes, that’s right, I was dressed and ready to leave for Bible study, and I didn’t have to leave for another 30 or 40 minutes. I turned back to my reading.

“You know, you could  get that item and meet your friend half way.”

That one wasn’t me.

How do I know? Because I argued back, “but I’m supposed to be at Bible study in half in hour.”  I went back to my reading.

“What would happen if you were late?”

“Well, I’m always late.”

Sigh.

I picked up my phone, made arrangements, and started driving.

So, here’s my analysis of what happened. If I had not decided to add in a margin to my life — some white space — by turning off my phone from 8p to 8a, I might have still been lying in bed when the friend called. I would not have been dressed. I would have been reading Facebook posts and playing WWF. I wouldn’t have had the space in my day to drive twenty minutes to help her out. But, I did make that decision. I did put the margin in my life.

And the very next morning after making that decision, God provided a tangible reward — an opportunity to use that same time, the time I’d been filling up, to help a friend.

You might think that my friend is the only one who benefitted. Not true. The whole time I was driving I was thinking out loud, “Really? You’re gonna respond to my decision that quickly? You want to affirm this decision that strongly?”  I was flabbergasted. I was stunned to notice God working in my life in such a way.

And here’s the nugget, guys. I noticed because I wasn’t face-down into my phone. Yes, this is hugely convicting and embarrassing. I have spent far too much time in my phone. I’ve known this. I just didn’t want to make a change.

And, I’ve got to be real honest here and say that it’s been just as hard as I thought it would be. After 8pm last night, I kept mentally reaching for my phone to check for messages, see if everyone was ok, or if I’d missed anything. I had to continue to remind myself that I had already turned it off for the night and that everyone would be ok without me for twelve hours.

The hardest part, however, wasn’t the lack of checking in, it was the awareness of all the thoughts I have routinely shoved down by occupying myself with my phone. With my phone turned off, lots of ugliness creeps to the surface — regrets and questions about the past, worries about finances, personal insecurities, and all sorts of stuff I have chosen not to think about. With my phone down, I can not ignore these nagging concerns. I am forced to look them in the face. It’s not pleasant, guys, to look at all that stuff. It makes me feel yucky. I don’t like feeling yucky.

Last night after I put my book down, I closed my eyes because I thought I was ready for sleep. I was tired, but as I was lying in bed, trying to sleep, the ugliness started playing out on my mind screen. “Ugh,” I thought, “why!?!?!?”  I felt overwhelmed.  In desperation I said to God, “Is this real? Is my memory real? Please replace these images with what is true!”

Did you see that? I didn’t shove the images down. I held them up to God and asked for His reality check. Why was I able to do that? Because I’ve put a margin into my life. I’ve left some white space, expecting that He will step in and fill it. I am acknowledging that the story I am writing is rough and needs the hand of the Master. I need Him to speak into my life — to offer encouragement, correction, and guidance. I haven’t been leaving room for that. I’ve been writing all the way to the edge of the paper.

I’m a mere two days in, guys, but this change is so important that God is already dramatically stepping in. It’s like He’s been standing by waiting for the opportunity.

Let me just be quiet, so I can hear Him.

Speak for your servant is listening.”

I Sam 3:10

Margin

~ Kristin ~ 1 Comment

I’m still behind on my new Bible study, Breathe: making room for sabbath by Priscilla Shirer, but I’m not feeling the need to rush.  I’m trying to drink in the ideas and let them tumble around inside my head for a little while.

What I’m tossing around today is the idea of boundaries. Priscilla Shirer uses the terms ‘margin’ and ‘boundary’ almost interchangeably.  The idea is to leave space in our lives — to not plan ourselves out to the edges.  When I think of the term ‘margin’ , as a writer, I think of the edge of the page.  My students are required to double-space their papers and to leave a one-inch margin around their text.  Why?  Well, for one thing, it makes the page look nice.  But more importantly is the fact that they are leaving room for me. They are leaving space on the page for me to engage with their ideas, to comment, “nice job!” or “I see what you mean!”  They are leaving a place for me to give guidance, “I am wondering if you could clarify this a bit for me” or “Say this more concisely.”  They are planning for the actuality that I will be joining them on this page.

So why don’t I apply this rule to my life?  Why, so often, do I plan my life right out to the edge of the paper, single-spaced, in 10 pt. font!  I’m not leaving room for anyone — not the people I pass throughout my day, not my kids, not my husband, not my own thoughts, not God.  Nope. I’m filling it up, often well ahead of time.  And I’m sitting here wondering if I do it so that I won’t have time for others, myself, or — gasp — God.

Let me pause for a minute and say that I have more freedom for boundaries in my life right now than I have had in a very long time.  I am only working part-time and much of that is scheduled by me.  We live in a very small home, which, except for the interior, is maintained by someone else.  The only other beings who live with me are my husband and my dog — both of whom are extremely low maintenance.  And still, still, I plan myself out to the edges of the page.  And, when I don’t have anything planned, I fill my time with activity — crocheting, television, Words With Friends, Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, etc.  I don’t often let my mind be still.  And I’m starting to think I am doing this on purpose.

Why? Because when my mind is still, it wanders to things I don’t like it to think about — mistakes from the past, worries about the people I love, things I wish I could change. So, rather than looking those thoughts square in the face, I occupy myself, or at least my mind.  It’s a way of avoiding reality, I suppose.  But, you know, I think I am also avoiding something else.

By eliminating the margins in my life, I am eliminating the spaces where anyone else can enter in.  I’m making myself so busy that I have little time to chat with a friend, to phone my sister, or to pray. And by not leaving much room for these others to engage with my life, I am limiting their ability to encourage me and to guide me.

The first chapter in this Bible study challenged me to identify specific areas that I let have too much control over my time. I identified two — working and social media. Let me explain.

The nature of my work right now is that I teach one class at the college where we live — three days a week for fifty minutes.  That is very easy and do-able.  Yes, it is an English class, yes I have papers to grade, but it is very manageable.  However, in addition to that I am a private tutor/proofreader.  I have an online profile through which potential students can contact me at any hour day or night.  Sometimes I get a message at 9pm asking if I could proofread a 3-page document before midnight.  I also get requests all day long for in-person tutoring.  I can make my schedule as busy as I want it to be. I don’t always do a great job of maintaining a healthy boundary.

Social media is a great modern tool.  It allows us to connect with people around the world.  We can share photos, engage in political dialogue,  or promote causes we care about.  However…..we can also use it to fill in the white spaces in our lives.  If I’ve got five minutes to wait in a line, instead of noticing my surroundings, I often check email, text a friend, or post on Facebook.  If I’m in the waiting room at the doctor’s office, I play Words With Friends or read my Twitter feed.  If I’m sitting next to my husband on the couch at night, I usually have my phone in my hand — checking messages, playing games, reading posts.  I’m not allowing a margin that invites others to engage with me.

I’ve known this for a while.  And, I’m a little hesitant to continue this paragraph because I know I am about to publicly commit to change. And change, my friends, is not always easy…especially when it relates to those behaviors that offer us some kind of protection from ourselves or the world around us.  I’m thinking that one change I can choose to make that will allow me a little more white space, a little more opportunity to engage with others, including my own thoughts and God, would be to put my phone down. Every night. From 8pm to 8am. There it is. In print. It doesn’t sound like a big deal, does it?  I think I’m going to actually turn it off during those times. Any messages I receive between 8p and 8a can wait. Right?

Are you like me?  Does a decision like this raise a little anxiety?  What if I get bored? What if someone needs me?   What if I miss something?  Yeah, the fact that I’m freaking out a little bit tells me that this decision is long overdue.   I’m feeling very resolute at 2:35 pm, but I have a feeling that I might feel a little uncomfortable around 8:15.  Nevertheless, I believe this is one small step God is calling me to in my quest for Sabbath.

I’ll let you know how it goes.

Hebrews 12: 1b

Let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles.

Re-thinking Sabbath

~ Kristin ~ 1 Comment

Yesterday, after having missed two weeks of my Bible study, I returned. While I was gone, the battalion had finished the study on Hosea and had transitioned to Priscilla Shirer’s Breathe: making room for sabbath.  

I joined the study already in progress, so I’m a little behind.  I tried to skim and engage during yesterday’s gathering, but I kept feeling like I was missing out because I hadn’t read every word from the start.

So, today I sat down and turned to page one.

But before I tell you what I found, let me rewind a bit and tell you what I have thought about the sabbath during these first fifty years of my life.

Many of the women yesterday resonated with my first understanding of sabbath.  “Sabbath means going to church. Every Sunday. Without fail.” Going to church is an excellent practice.  I am all for gathering in community, hearing the word of God, uniting in prayer and song, and devoting a regular portion of my week to public worship.  However, sabbath is not church attendance. 

I have also understood sabbath to mean an absence of work. This has Biblical grounds, of course, and traditional significance.  Many people, for centuries, have observed the sabbath by refraining from work.  Again, I fully support this notion.  I think it is healthy and even godly to find a rhythm in which we regularly cease toiling.  However, the sabbath is about much more than just the absence of work. 

So, I’ve started my definition of sabbath by telling you what it is not. Why? Because that is where I am starting.  I am acknowledging that my previous understandings of this word were limited and not exactly what God modeled for us when He “rested on the seventh day from all His work that He had done.”  Nor do they line up with the heart of God behind the third commandment to “remember the sabbath day to keep it holy.”

I’m starting with what sabbath is not, deleting my previous notions to make room for a new understanding.  I am feeling a need to do this because the very word ‘sabbath’ is weighted for me.  It is weighted with feelings of obligation, neglect, and guilt.  Somewhere deep inside me is the belief that if I were a better Christian, I would trust God enough to take a whole day every week to rest in Him.  This belief is scripturally illustrated in the story of the Israelites who were told to gather manna six days out of the week.  God provided a double-portion for them on the sixth day so that they would not have to gather manna on the seventh day.  See, they didn’t have to work and still God provided.  Should I not learn from the Israelites and ‘go and do likewise’.

We have to be careful when we start down that path, because even in our attempts to do good, we can reduce sabbath to a rule or requirement.

Also planted deeply inside me is the belief that I am not healthy if I don’t give myself one day a week to rest and recover from my labors.  Haven’t you heard people say, “even God rested on the seventh day.”  They are intentionally, or unintentionally, suggesting that if I refuse to rest on the seventh day I am somehow elevating myself above God — “I don’t need rest.”

Well, of course I need rest.  And of course I should trust God.  But after reading the first sixteen pages of Priscilla Shirer’s study, I jotted down my response to a question and I surprised myself.  After leading me through the Genesis account and some thoughts from a Jewish scholar regarding the sabbath, the study asked me: “how is the concept of rest more than simply stopping an activity? How is rest a positive, created thing rather than a negative cessation of activity?” Before I knew what was happening I wrote: “It’s a destination rather than a requirement. It’s a capstone, not recovery.”

Whoa.

That’s the kind of stuff that will sit you down and make you think for a minute.  God created for six days straight, so that He could appreciate all that He had created on the seventh.  His rest was the capstone of His creation — the finale of his well-spent week. He put the sabbath in our commandments, not to require our worship, but to protect His rhythm.  Why? Because His rhythm is good. All that He created was good.

Why, oh why, do I push against what God has created to be good?  Because, as I learned in the book of Hosea, I am bent on turning….turning to my own ways, to what I believe to be best for me, rather that what God knows is best for me.

Are you bent on turning, too?  “Have no fear, little flock, for your Father has been pleased to give you His kingdom.” And in his kingdom, my friends, He has provided a sabbath rest.

Re-think it with me, won’t you?

 

Hebrews 4:9

There remains, then, a Sabbath-rest for the people of God