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, education, equity, chronic illness, and teaching.

Answered prayers left and right

~ Kristin ~ Leave a comment

Does God answer prayer?  Yes.

How do I know?  Because I have been writing down my prayers since November 17, 2014 and I have evidence of things asked and answered.

On November 29 I prayed that two family members would resolve their issues with one another — issues that were prohibiting them from even being in each other’s presence for any amount of time.  In fact, I didn’t just pray that prayer on November 29 — I prayed it over and over and over. On December 22 I asked that these two would turn to each other. On March 30 I asked that God would breathe new life into their relationship.  How did God answer that prayer?  He turned arguments into agreements. He turned yelling into laughter.  He turned suspicion into trust.  He turned avoidance into partnership. He answered my prayer beyond what I could ask or imagine.  I was hoping for a truce; He provided an alliance.

I’ve also been praying consistently that I would find the right kind and the right amount of employment in light of my current health status. On February 26 I asked God to put me and keep me on His path.  On March 30 I prayed that God would show me how much to do and when. On April 21 I prayed that He would help me find my rhythm. On April 22 I asked that God would give me the wisdom to live within the boundaries He has set for me. On May 7 I prayed that He would grant me discernment in my work and in my family. On May 28 I asked that God would give me His pace and direct me to His work.  On June 6 I asked for the physical strength to do the things that He is calling me to. On June 30 I prayed for God’s pace and His way for me.  Lately I have been asking over and over for God to show me how to best use my time in ways that give honor to him.

Let’s digress for a moment to remind ourselves that since April I have been experimenting with employment.  After my ‘time of refreshing’ last fall — a period of time where my health was fairly well-managed, I took a position doing what I love to do — working with children.  For over four months I have been learning and growing along side some exceptionally professional coworkers and some inspiring students at an agency that does intensive instruction in reading, writing, and arithmetic.  But, if I’m going to be honest, the pace has been a little much.  It might have been ok if I hadn’t taken on about a half-dozen students outside of work,  but I just love those students — the ones I meet in libraries and their homes. They are adults, mostly, and some high school students, who need one-on-one coaching in writing and English. Interacting with them feeds me.  I have loved working both at the agency and through my tutoring service, but I have also been exhausted — too depleted to offer much to my family.  Hence, the prayers.

“Show me what you want me to do!” “Teach me how to pace myself.” “How much is enough?” “How much is too much?” “How can my gifts be best put to use?”

I had determined that as we moved into fall, I would reduce my hours at the agency and continue working with six to eight students on my own each week.  That sounded like a workable plan.  And then, amidst all those prayers and cries, came an email offering a direction I wasn’t expecting. It threw me a little.

Over the years, my oldest daughter has often come to me for advice with a Scenario A and a Scenario B — which option should she choose?  She spends time telling me the pros and cons of each alternative and then I usually say something like, “Is there a third option?”   In the last couple of years, she has started to say the same thing to me.  When I say “Should I A or B?” She will say, “What’s the third option?”

In all my prayers, I was thinking I had the answer.  I knew the current situation, A, was too much; I had determined the alternative, B, would likely solve the problem.  And then, God provided C.

I didn’t know what to do, so I enlisted the battalion and my husband in prayer and dialogue. I tried to stick with option B — my solution.  I really did.  But then I started seeing scenarios in my head that weren’t there before.  I started imagining myself in option C.  I started seeing how option C would provide a pace that I could live with while still providing the interactions that feed me.  I started to see the barriers that I thought existed evaporate.

This morning I told my husband my plan to move toward option C.  A few hours later I sat down at my computer to take some steps in that direction, but as I did so, I shot out a text to the battalion saying that I was moving forward but inviting God to step in and block the way.  It was at that moment that I paused to do my Bible study.  I am not making this up: the theme of today was to ‘not put God to the test’.

He has provided an answer to my prayers.  He has affirmed it through my husband and my prayer support.  Why would I invite him to step in and block the way? Do I need more proof?  Why? Because my faith is small.  Even after He blew my socks off with the answer to my prayers for the family situation.  Even after he provided over and above what was expected in financial aid for our daughter.  Even after he provided a job for our other daughter — one that she didn’t even apply for, doing exactly what she wants to do, in the major city where she wants to live. Even after all that, I still have a very small faith.

He answered my prayer.  He gave me a gift.  I shall say thank you and receive the gift. I won’t second-guess it or put God to the test.  I will trust that this answer is His.

Ephesians 3:20-21

 Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us, 21 to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, for ever and ever! Amen

Thanks, guys!

~ Kristin ~ 1 Comment

I met two remarkable people this week. Two remarkable seventeen-year-olds, actually. Two remarkable seventeen-year-old boys.  In fact, I think I met them both on the same day.  Yes, I am sure it was on the same day.

One, let’s call him Allan, I met in the morning.  I was at work, and he was my last student of the morning.  I had never worked with him before, so I introduced myself and tried to initiate our hour-long lesson.  I held up a card with a word on it for him to read, and he interrupted me, “before we get started, let me just explain that since the tumor I only have about an 85 degree range of vision.”

Wait, what?

“Ah, yes, I replied,” remembering a staff briefing from about a week earlier, “tell me about that.”

“Well, ever since they removed my brain tumor, I can only see things from here to here,” he said, showing me with his hands, “so, when you hold the card, if you could put it almost directly in front of me, that would be great.”

Yes, he’s seventeen.

During our fifty-five minutes together, he joked with me, showed me CAT scan images of ‘before’ and ‘after’ and, remarkably, read, imaged, and spelled many, many words.  it was his seventeenth birthday that day and he was looking forward to spending the rest of his day with his best friend and his family.  His love for them oozed out of his pores. When we finished, he said, “Thank you.”

I met the second remarkable seventeen-year-old boy that same day in the afternoon at a local library.  It was our first ACT Test prep session.  He found me in a little study room just as I was noticing a voicemail from his father.  He sat down across from me as I listened to the message that told me that this young man, let’s call him Robert, has a life-threatening liver disease and is on the transplant list.  He sometimes gets tired, his dad told me, so I should push him, but be aware that he may not have the stamina of a ‘normal’ seventeen year old. I should give him homework, but I should know in advance that if he doesn’t do it, it’s not because he is apathetic, but because he gets worn out.

I ended the call and looked across the table at Robert who was sheepishly rolling his eyes.  “Will you tell me if you get tired?”

“Yes, but I’ll be fine.”

“Ok, let’s get started.”  For an hour we worked through ACT English test questions.  I told him my best strategies and my hottest tips.  He took detailed notes, asked questions, and leaned in with me for the whole session.  He shared with me that before last March he was a typical healthy teenager.  Then, suddenly, he was hospitalized for a week, treated with medication, and put on a liver transplant list.  This was not even six months ago!  And yet he’s sitting with me, preparing for the September ACT, applying to Michigan State University, and planning for his future.  When we finished, I gave him an assignment to do before I see him next week.  He wrote it down, asked some clarifying questions, then said, “Thank you, this helps a lot.”

Two seventeen-year-old boys, who have each learned the frailty of life at a very young age, spent an hour with me one day this week.  They followed my directions, they shared their stories, they smiled and laughed with me, then they thanked me. And here I am four days later thinking about them.  They think I helped them, but really they inspired me.

If these two boys, who each know what it feels like to endure a life-threatening illness, can embody hope and resilience, then surely I, who have seen many more years of life and much-less dramatic illness, can, too. These boys weren’t wringing their hands and crying, “Woe is me!” No, they were acknowledging the reality of their circumstances and arming themselves for what lies ahead. Surely they have great parents, but certainly they are remarkable young men.

Thanks, guys.

I Timothy 4:12

Don’t let anyone look down on you because you are young, but set an example for the believers in speech, in conduct, in love, in faith and in purity.

Finding Balance

~ Kristin ~ Leave a comment

In April of this year I started an experiment.  After almost ten months (gasp!) of not reporting to an employer, I took a gamble and accepted a position that would get close to full-time for several months. Four months later, I am nearing the end of the ‘busy season’ at the agency I am working for, and I am ready to report some findings.

  • I love working. I love being around other people, even if they are all approximately half my age. I love the joking, the camaraderie, the sense of belonging.  I love having a regular schedule — I get to work at a certain time, I set up my area, I greet my students, I work through the program, I send them on their way.  I like learning from my colleagues and from my students. Yes, I am the oldest employee at our office, but I am continually learning new things — new strategies that work with students, new ways of thinking about instruction, and even the latest slang terms (FYI, according to a student ‘whip’ means ‘to drive’).
  • Working is good for me.  On days that I work, I move more, I laugh more, I think more, and I interact more.  All of these ‘mores’ make me feel better. While I am working, I very rarely notice any symptoms of my illness.  I focus on my students and the task at hand, not on the pain in my hip or the inflammation in my joints.
  • After a certain point, the number of hours I work is inversely related to the number of hours that I can effectively interact with my family.  (Did you see that? I think I did math!) In other words, the more I work, the less mental energy I have left to communicate with, love on, and support my immediate family members.  I haven’t quite found the threshold at which this inverse relationship occurs.  I suspect that if I keep my work hours around 20-25 per week, I will still be able to hold real conversations, answer the phone at 7pm, and occasionally chat over dinner.  I have learned that after 40 hours, 35 hours, or even 32 hours of interaction with students, my ability to be available to my people after 6pm is dramatically limited.
  • In order to keep working, I have to schedule in time for exercise — not just a leisurely walk a couple of days a week after work, but real exercise. At the gym. Weights. Cardio. Pilates. All of it. When I realized how much I would be working this summer, I put a hold on my gym membership from April 15-August 15.  My theory was that the weather would be nice, so I would be walking. I could do Pilates at home.  Yeah, yeah.  Good intentions.  I have certainly gone for many walks this summer.  In fact, on my lunch hour at work, I often eat while walking.  I usually walk for close to 45 minutes during my one-hour break.  That’s good, but it’s not enough.  I need to do Pilates more consistently, not just once or twice a week.  I need to get back in the pool to decrease my inflammation and increase my mobility.  It’s got to be part of the schedule.  Starting August 15, it will be.
  • Family and friends are more important than working.  I am going to have to be disciplined enough to limit my hours so that I don’t sacrifice a chat on the phone with my sister, catching up with my daughters or sons over Skype, or spending the afternoon at a family reunion.  I asked for Wednesday mornings off starting after Labor Day so that I can get my weekly time with my Bible study battalion. I plan to reserve every Friday afternoon for walkabout with the husband.  Skyping and phone chats will be scheduled for Saturdays and Sundays.
  • Working reshapes my time for blogging.  Before I started working, I blogged every morning while enjoying my morning beverages.  This summer I have blogged whenever I have found time to spare.  For the fall?  Well, I am hoping to find a new rhythm that will include work, exercise, Bible study, family and friends, and blogging.  Because all of these things add up to a healthy and happy me.
  • And those other things that have to be done in life — cooking, cleaning, shopping, etc?  I am finding that they aren’t that important and that they happen when they truly need to happen.

So, the experiment has been good.  Yes, I have had some rough days.  Yes, I have cried some tears of exhaustion and frustration.  Yes, I have missed out on some opportunities.  However, I have made some great friends, I have learned so much, and I have been able to recognize some of my limitations and make a plan to adapt my schedule accordingly.  So now, onto the next phase of the experiment.

Psalm 25:4

Show me Your ways, O Lord,

Teach me Your paths;

Guide me in Your truth and teach me.

Praying for healing, pt. 2

~ Kristin ~ Leave a comment

A week ago I wrote about a book that had been given to me by a trusted pastoral — How Can I Ask God for Healing? When I left you, I was headed to that pastor’s house to return the book.  I read all the way there and still had about 100 pages to go when we walked into his house.  I handed the book to him and said, “I want to return this to you; you can see by the book mark how far I made it.” He said I could keep it longer to finish it.  I replied, “Doesn’t somebody else need it?”  He said, “I only loan this copy out to special people; I would really like you to finish it.”

Well, what do you say so an octogenarian pastor whose speciality is prayer?  Do you tell him, “No thanks, I’m good.” And, to be honest, by that time, I had kind of become attached to the book, I did want to read the ‘rest of the story’.  So, I thanked him and brought the book back home.

While we were in his presence, he pulled me aside and shared several stories of how prayer had changed the lives of people he had been working with.  He wasn’t trying to build his argument; he was simply sharing his awe at the power of God.  I was reminded of his rich history in ministry and of the authority he has in terms of spiritual things.

This week I finished the book.  This morning I turned back to the introduction and started reading again.

(Note to my children and any former students, this is a prime example of my favorite saying, “Anybody can change.”)

Here is the journey so far:

I have an autoimmune disease — or at least something that looks like one. For the last three years I have struggled with extreme fatigue, psoriasis, joint pain, inflammation, and eye irritation.  These symptoms limit my life and have caused us to make major life adjustments — change in careers, relocation to a much smaller home, significant financial decisions, and numerous lifestyle changes including diet, exercise, social life, etc.

Some positive things have come from this situation. We move much more slowly; I have experienced significant emotional and spiritual healing;  I have been freed to write again, which brings so much value to my life. We have praised God in this disease for the ways He has used it to alter some patterns that have needed to be altered for years.

But the truth remains, I do have a disease. Why wouldn’t I ask God for healing?  Let me clarify by saying that I have prayed for healing.  It is a regular prayer of mine that God would heal my body, mind, and spirit.  In fact, shortly after my symptoms started, we gathered many trusted members of our faith community to pray over me.  As I look back and remember all those hands on me and tears rolling down my cheeks, I picture myself hoping God would heal me, but actually feeling that these prayers were step one in accepting the fact that things were going to be different from now on.

Let me further clarify by saying that my husband is a faithful man of prayer; I doubt that a day has gone by in the last three years that he has not asked for my complete healing.  He, and our pastor friend, and probably my mother.

Me, I regularly pray that God would heal my body, mind, and spirit, while at the same time accepting the fact that I am walking in a new reality. And I want to affirm that accepting reality is, by its own right, rather healthy.  Acknowledging that my symptoms are real and not fabrications of my mind has been a struggle in itself.  I really do have limitations even though it may not appear from the outside that I do.  Saying out loud, in the presence of others, that I “can’t” do things has been a monumental step in this new chapter. Is it possible for me to know that I have a disease while at the same time praying for and believing God to heal me?  I think that is the conflict of the moment.

So, as per usual, I read my Bible study this morning.  Joshua and the Israelites marching around Jericho seven days in a row, because God said so, and making the walls “come a-tumbling down”.  As I was reading it, a page from How Can I Ask God for Physical Healing popped onto my brain screen– it’s actually a chart, two pages long, of all the healing stories in the Bible.  Shriveled hands, blindness, leprosy, paralysis, fever, death — all healed because Jesus said so.

Again, I know God can heal me, at His word.  Do I trust Him enough to ask boldly and believe that He will? Or will I continue to pray, “Well, if you want to, it’d be great if you took away this disease.”

I’ll keep you posted.

And the prayer, offered in faith, will make the sick person well;

The Lord will raise them up.

James 5:15

Adding up twenty-five years

~ Kristin ~ 2 Comments

On Tuesday of this week, my husband and I celebrated twenty-five years of marriage.  I have spent more than half of my life with this man!  Twenty-five years!  When I was only twenty-four, I had no idea how things would add up over the years

Eleven addresses — that’s right, we’ve lived in Ferndale, Auburn Hills, Coldwater, Jackson, and Ann Arbor, Michigan and in St. Louis, Missouri.  In two of those places we’ve had more than one address! We’ve lived in spaces from 800 square feet to over 2000 square feet.  We have moved eleven times, folks — and we’re still married!

Five kids — ok, I got one with the marriage, but we’ve added three by birth and one by marriage in the last twenty-five years.  Best of all, we’ve added a granddaughter! (We refuse to count all the diapers that these children required or all of the hours spent tending to sick ones!)

Two pets — our dearly departed Mikey, and our current cuddler, Chester.

Three graduate degrees — one for me, two for him!  We won’t mention all the dollars we have spent on education, we’ll let you imagine that on your own!

So many vehicles — from the tiny little Ford Festiva that we dubbed the ‘wind-up car’ to the GMC Safari that could carry all of us and all of our stuff to our current cute little Suze Cruze.

Thousands and thousands of miles we have driven from Michigan to New Jersey to New York to Niagara to Georgia to Colorado to Minnesota to Missouri to Tennessee to Texas and back to Michigan again.

One mission trip to Haiti and one mission in St. Louis.

Five home congregations, but so many more that we’ve visited!

So many friends!

So many positions — teaching, and preaching, and counseling, and tutoring, and that one summer when I did the Census! (Oh, and let’s not forget all the times we have been summoned for jury duty!)

Too many speeding tickets (mostly me) and too many parking citations (also me).

We’ve run hundreds of miles together, and now we’re walking even more. We’ve eaten tons of food together, and drank our share of beer, wine, coffee, and tea. We’ve had So. Much. Popcorn. But, wait, that’s all me.

We’ve disagreed.  We’ve argued.  We’ve irritated one another.  We’ve hurt one another and forgiven one another.

We’ve had rough days, rough weeks, and even a few rough years.  Most couples do.

But we’ve also had great days, great weeks, and even a few excellent years. Some couples do.

We’ve worked too hard, moved too fast, and forgotten to cherish the little things, but, in our older age, we are learning to work smarter, move slower, and notice the stuff that matters the most.

Just this year, we have started a tradition that we call ‘walkabout’.  We take the bus downtown with no intended agenda, no time constraints, and no responsibility.  We walk about for hours checking out people, places, and things.  We drink excellent coffee or tea, we eat snacks and and sometimes a meal, we usually have a glass of wine, then we take the bus home.  It’s not glamorous, but it’s fabulous.  It’s time together celebrating the fact that we still like to spend time together, still like to explore together, and still have fun together. That, my friends, can’t be measured or counted.  It can only be treasured.

We ain’t perfect. That’s sure.  But we have been incredibly blessed.  Here’s to twenty-five more.

Praise God from whom all blessings flow,

Praise Him all creatures here below

Praise Him above, ye heavenly host,

Praise Father, Son, and Holy Ghost.

Praying for Healing?

~ Kristin ~ Leave a comment

So, a few days ago I ended my blog post with the scripture from Matthew 7, “Ask, and it will be given to you; seek, and you will find; knock, and the door will be opened to you.  For everyone who asks receives, and the one who seeks finds, and to the one who knocks it will be opened.”  Sounds simple, right?

I mean, didn’t I just write on Thursday about all the prayers that had been answered?  I have seen the beauty of ask and receive, but in one area I am struggling.

My husband and I have a dear pastor friend — no, he’s more than that.  I will call him a spiritual father — especially to my husband.  He is a prayer pioneer who has spent more hours on his knees than anyone else I know. Since he heard about my illness he has prayed for me every day.  Every. Single. Day. Several months ago he passed a book to me through my husband called How Can I Ask God for Physical Healing? So, knowing that it was from the man who we deeply respect and love, I opened and began reading it immediately, right?  Nope. I actually stuck it in a drawer and forgot about it.

Why?  Well, my reasoning has been that although my physical health is suffering, many areas of my life are much healthier than they have ever been.  Why would I beg God to take something away that He has used to create dramatic change in my life?  I mean, if He heals me, I will probably just go back to my butt-kicking, name-taking habits, right?

When I received this book I thought to myself, “(Sigh), I am not one of those name it and claim it type of people. If God decides to heal me, great.  If He decides not to, that’ll be ok, too.”  I mean, yes, my life is very different than it once was.  I move more slowly, my thoughts get a bit cloudy, some of my activities are limited, but I’m not dying over here.  I could live like this.  I don’t love it, but worse things could happen.  “I don’t need to read a book about healing; I am just coming to terms with the new realities of my life.”

So I was at work the other day when my husband sent me a text asking if I was done with the book; our friend wanted it back. Gulp. No, I hadn’t actually started it.  Later in the day, my husband told me that we had been invited to this friend’s house for a family dinner — today.

Well, that was the nudge I needed.  I read about a hundred pages yesterday and picked up the book again when I got home from church today. Here’s what I have so far — the book does not outline a 12-step process that ‘guarantees’ healing; I don’t know why I thought it would.  It doesn’t tell me all the things I am doing wrong in my life or ways to change so that God will provide me with healing.  It doesn’t say that God will heal me; it does say that God can. 

Of course I knew that.  I have said that all along.  But, further, it challenges me to take a good long look at why I became sick in the first place — I have done this to a degree, but this gives me some additional areas to consider.  It also challenges me to examine my relationship with God and what I believe about Him.  I am fine with all of that, but I am getting to the sticky part of the healing prayer topic– you may have heard this language before, I know I have. Trusting God for healing. Using authoritative faith. Believing God for his promises.

Now, to be fair, I am judging the second half of the book before I have read it…and I am planning on giving the book back to its owner in just a few hours. I am not sure I will finish it.  So, why am I blogging instead of reading?  I think because I am not sure I want to totally invest myself in ‘believing for a miracle’.  I mean, I do tend to invest 100%.  And the book has already told me that God may choose not to heal me.  What if I ‘believe for a miracle healing’ and I don’t get it?  Will I be angry with God and give Him the silent treatment — again? I don’t know that I want to take that risk.  I think I would feel better about just accepting what I have been given, walking in this path, and not questioning it.

You know what I mean?

But nagging in the back of my mind is this thought — why don’t you just finish reading it?  will it kill you? is it possible that you could learn something or reshape your thinking? why are you so closed to this topic?

Ok, ok…I have another hour before we have to get in the car.  Let me read a little further and see what I find.  I’m trying not to be stubborn over here.  I’ll let you now what happens.

John 16:23-24

I tell you the truth, my Father will give you whatever you ask in my name…

Ask and you will receive, and your joy will be complete.

Red-letter Day

~ Kristin ~ Leave a comment

Yesterday was what I like to call a red-letter day.  In fact, if I still kept a paper calendar I would get out a red sharpie and circle July 23, 2015 so that I would not forget it.

It started first thing in the morning.  I worked with my first student, who is autistic.  Just a few weeks ago it was difficult for him to describe any object beyond its color — usually black or blue — and its shape — typically a circle or a square.  Yesterday we looked at a small picture of a pile of nails.  I took the picture away and asked him what he had seen.  He said, “nails”,  of course. When I asked him what they looked like,  he said they had a circle on the top.  “Yes, good!” I said.  “What else?”  “They are sharp on the bottom.”  “Yes!”  Now, this may not seem like a big deal to you, but for my little guy, it’s a pretty big deal.  He used a complete sentence and he moved beyond his generic descriptors to something more specific.  That, my friends, is worth marking on the calendar.

It didn’t stop there.  My second student has been known to be quite noncompliant — to the point of refusing to work, day after day after day.  Yesterday appeared, at first, to be another one of those days, but for some reason, we started our session with some talk about her toys and she began to work with me.  We were moving forward slowly in our lesson when one of the supervisors joined us to do some ‘pacing’ — this happens quite often.  The more senior members of the team come and interact with the students to push them a bit and determine how to best tweak their lessons for the most impact.  The supervisor asked me to do a task with the student.  I wasn’t quite sure of the method, so I invited her to show me her ‘special way’ of using the materials.  I was so glad that I did this — she made several changes in the setting and the climate of that lesson.  She worked with the student for about fifteen minutes.  I watched, took notes, and learned a whole lot about how to work with this difficult little peanut.

I had two more students before I left for the afternoon.  Walking to my car, I checked my phone for messages and emails.  We had been exchanging information with the financial aid office at our daughter’s university.  They wanted to verify some information we had submitted, so we had sent documents back and forth over the last few weeks.  It was exhausting and tedious, but we kept at it. When I saw an email from the officer we had been working with, I opened it to find that the school had decided to give her another huge chunk of grant money — so much, in fact, that she will not have to take one of the loans that she had been approved for!

Then, I received a text from another daughter who said that an employer had contacted her out of the blue and wanted to interview her over the phone — that day!  The position is almost a perfect fit for this particular daughter, her skill set, and her interests, and she hadn’t even applied for the position!

And the news kept coming!  It was like it was my birthday and people kept arriving with gifts that I wasn’t expecting — healing for this person, encouragement for that one, resolved conflict here, restored relationships there…

Late in the afternoon, my husband arrived home from work with the day’s mail.  He was carrying a package from my mother — I had mentioned that my rubbermaid containers kept disappearing, so she sent me a whole new set!

I am telling you, it was a red letter day!

So, I grabbed my dog and my phone and headed out for a walk.  I called my mom to thank her for the gift and I started telling her about all the good things that had happened yesterday.  I kept saying, “I can’t believe it, I can’t believe it!”  She said, “I know it’s hard to believe, but just think of all the time you have spent praying for these things.  God says, if you ask for it, He will answer. I know you weren’t expecting Him to answer all in one day, but He answers whenever He wants to!”

Yes, He does!  Sometimes the answers trickle in so subtly that we might not even realize that they are answers to prayer.  They can slip by me unnoticed, and I take them for granted.  But, when He overwhelms me with answers all in one day, I can hardly ignore His work.  It took my breath away.

This morning, I did my devotion which I always follow with writing in my prayer journal.  I follow a pattern called PRAISE — Praise, Repentance,  Acknowledgement, Intercession, Supplication, and Equipping.  When I got to the Supplication section I recalled all the prayers I had written for ‘my people’ over the past several months.  My mother wasn’t wrong — they have been many.  I never doubted that God was hearing them; I never doubted that He had my people in the palm of His hand.  But it sure was wonderful to sit in amazement and watch so many answers all in one day.

Matthew 7:

Ask, and it will be given to you; seek, and you will find; knock, and it will be opened to you. 8 For everyone who asks receives, and the one who seeks finds, and to the one who knocks it will be opened.

Mentally Speaking

~ Kristin ~ Leave a comment

I’ve spent considerable space on this blog sharing my journey with my invisible illness -autoimmune disease, but very little space with another invisible malady I’ve wrestled with — mental illness.

Why is that?  Why am I so open with sharing about my physical struggles, but very closed about sharing those that are mental? Probably because some of you have already cringed or gasped — “Mental illness?  Really?” It’s not your fault; for generations struggles of the psychological kind have been steeped in stigma and judgment.  People ‘go crazy’, are ‘whacko’, and find their way to the ‘looney bin’. Right?  If we have struggles of a mental nature, we tend to keep them hush-hush.  You know, people won’t understand.

But do you know why people don’t understand?  Because everyone keeps it hush-hush.

Just recently a friend of mine recalled that back in the 1980s I was the first person she knew who openly shared my struggle with an eating disorder.  That’s right, I talked about it.  Why?  I had to.  I had kept my illness a secret and it had almost destroyed me.  Part of my recovery was to speak the truth of my struggle.  I didn’t have a lot of finesse.  I remember I was in the cafeteria line at college grabbing some fruit and a Diet Coke.  One of my professors said to me, “What’s the matter, are you anorexic?”  I looked him in the eyes and said, “Yes, I am.”  Poor guy, I doubt that he had any idea what I was struggling with until that moment.  Shortly thereafter, I resigned my RA position and moved off campus.  When people asked why, I said, “I have to deal with my eating disorder.”  I couldn’t hide it; I had to expose it.

More recently, I entered therapy for continuing depression.  In fact, I met with a psychotherapist for about eight years.  My time on a couch saved my life and improved the lives of almost everyone who interacted with me.  I am not one to put my personal life on blast, but if someone brought an issue to me or asked for my advice, I never hid the fact that I was in therapy and that it was the best investment I had ever made in my life.  Nor do I hide the fact that I take anti-depressants.  Why should I? If you are on antibiotics do you hide that?  How about blood pressure medication?  Of course not.  No one would judge you if you had a physical illness that required medication.  Nor should they judge you if you need a medical intervention for your mental health.

It’s 2015 and scientists have long ago proven a biological component to some types of depression.  In fact, there are genetic links to all kinds of mental illness.  No longer do we believe that mental illness is purely demonic.  That is not to say that the devil is not alive and well and wreaking havoc on all mankind — he is.  But he does it all in kinds of ways that don’t carry the same stigma as mental illness.

And here’s the thing, when we attach guilt or shame to mental illness, we give it more power than it should have.  Depression becomes depression plus shame.  Anxiety becomes anxiety plus guilt. If you’ve experienced mental illness, you know that it doesn’t stop there.  All kinds of emotions get attached to what could have been easily addressed as one issue.  The problem grows and the afflicted feels more and more helpless, draws into herself, and begins to feel that there is no way out.

That’s like letting a cold turn into bronchitis which complicates into pneumonia and lands you in the hospital!  What could have been treated with rest and fluids has become a life-threatening illness requiring acute care.

Sometimes that happens, though.  And, if you get pneumonia, you are rushed to the hospital, given IV antibiotics, and ordered to rest.  Friends and neighbors rush to your house with chicken soup, bouquets of flowers, and offers to help with the chores and the kids.  So why is it when mental illness reaches acute levels and — gasp — someone has to be hospitalized, we tiptoe around, whispering in hushed tones, trying to ‘not notice’ what is going on?  Doesn’t someone hospitalized for mental illness need just as much, if not more, help than someone hospitalized with a medical illness?

Yes, she does. And she shouldn’t be made to feel shame for it.

We are complex beings.  God created us with body, mind, and spirit.  Our bodies get sick.  Our minds get sick.  I would venture to say that our spirits get sick, too. Why? Because we are human and we live in a fallen world.  We will continue to struggle with imperfection until we die.

So, let’s not make it worse than it is, ok? Illness is illness.  It all needs a remedy.  We pray, yes.   We use the resources that God has put at our disposal.  And, whenever possible, we support one another through the difficult times.  Understood? Good.

I Thessalonians 5:23

Now may the God of peace himself sanctify you completely, and may your whole spirit and soul and body be kept blameless at the coming of our Lord Jesus Christ.

Galatians 6:2

Bear one another’s burdens and so fulfill the law of Christ.

We’re not all the same…

~ Kristin ~ Leave a comment

I’m sitting here today thinking about people. We –people, that is — spend a lot of time differentiating ourselves from others.  I am older than you. You are taller than me.  He is smarter.  She is prettier.  They are richer. We are whiter. You are conservative. I am liberal. He is straight. She is gay. We are continually looking for differences and trying to find a way to situate ourselves amid the masses.

It’s identity formation and clarification.  That’s all.  It’s a natural part of our development. It starts when we are young and, from what I can tell, it never stops.

I remember being a young girl and wanting to find friends who were just like me.  I wanted friends who enjoyed the same toys, the same music, and the same choices in clothing.  I found them!  They affirmed me!  They liked what I liked.  We had fun together!  We enjoyed each other.   That was fine.

Later when I went away to college, I discovered many people who were very different from me.  I didn’t understand them, and, at my loss, I mostly stayed away from them.  I continued to seek sameness and found security in hanging out with people who, for the most part, shared my values, my upbringing, my appearance, and my interests.

As I entered my professional life, I found myself thrust among people who were very different than me.  My students and coworkers were from different backgrounds — racially, financially, spiritually, and culturally. I didn’t have an option any longer to ‘stick to my own kind’.  I had to mingle.

Let me tell you what mingling has done for me — it has changed me.  Over the past couple of decades I have rubbed shoulders with all kinds of people.  They have challenged my thinking about almost every topic on earth. I have questioned my opinions on politics, education, religion, faith, sexuality, marriage, parenthood, finances, music, television, literature, media, law enforcement, and many other topics because of my relationships with people who are different from me.

No, I’m not wishy-washy. In fact, I’m pretty hard-headed.  I don’t change easily.  But questioning my opinions has sharpened me.  Questioning my opinions has made me address some internal bias.  Questioning my opinions has pushed me to seek God and his wisdom.

Here’s what I know: We were not all created the same.  God is creative — He made all kinds of people.  And here’s the thing, He never classified any human as greater than another – with the exception of Christ himself.  He didn’t say thinner was better than fatter.  He didn’t say richer was better than poorer.  He didn’t say male was better than female, or even, (gasp), that Republican was better than Democrat.  He created all things good — snakes and elephants, oceans and swamps, men and women, Asian and Hispanic, and on and on.

I, for one, have had to get off my high horse and admit that I am no better than another.  I have also had to scrape myself out of the gutter and say I am not less than any other.

I have had to remind myself that the most annoying student I work with is a child of God just as much as my most treasured friend is. I have had to learn that my viewpoint is not the only viewpoint. I have had to look through someone else’s glasses, even if I haven’t walked a mile in his shoes.

It’s not easy and it’s never done.  Just today I judged someone because I deemed him ‘spoiled and privileged.’ From my point of view, he is.  From someone else’s point of view, I am the one who is spoiled and privileged.

To be honest, I don’t know that other person’s story, just like they likely don’t know all of mine. I am imagining we could each learn a thing or two from one another.

We are not all the same, thank God.  We are, however, all loved by God.

For God so loved [every single person in] the world,

that He gave His only Son…

John 3:16

Hi, honey, I’m Home, Part 2, a clarification

~ Kristin ~ 1 Comment

I want to correct a little theology from yesterday.  I believe I said that God had immobilized me through my autoimmune disease.  That really makes it seem like He intended for me to have this disease.  I’m not sure about that.  In fact, I am sure that God created all things in His image — whole, healthy, sinless, perfect.  I am fairly confident that illness — all illness — is a result of sin.  I don’t understand it, that’s a fact, but I believe that God desires for all people to be well and whole.  In fact, I believe that one day I will be — on this side of eternity or the other.

Why am I bringing this up?  Because this morning,  during my self-imposed three-day-weekend of rest, I opened my Bible study for the second day in a row and read these words:

Remember that most of what God does is invisible — totally outside our realm of observation or understanding.  We cannot base our faith on what He appears to be doing or how dramatically He answers our prayers — because faith founded on God’s apparent actions is not faith at all (Moore, Whispers of Hope, 112).

When I say something like “God has immobilized me,” I am implying that I know what God was thinking and that I am sure that He is the one who ‘afflicted’ me with this illness.  I don’t know that.  Here’s what I do know.  Three years ago I began having symptoms that slowed me down, made me uncomfortable, and eventually put me in bed for large chunks of time. For about the first two years of that discomfort I tried to fight back.  I was angry, complaining, and searching for a fix to my problem.  (And, guys, I would be lying if I said I wouldn’t still welcome a fix to this problem.) But about a year ago, I shifted gears. God had provided a way for me to be still in this illness — he allowed me some time off from work and busyness.  In that stillness, He inserted time for me to write.  He inserted friends who included me in Bible study and prayer.  He provided resources that spoke directly to my need. He entered into my illness with me.

Now, I am not implying that He could not have entered into my busyness in a different way.  Not at all.  I am saying that once I was slowed down, for whatever reason, I was able to more clearly see His involvement in my life.  For that reason, I am thankful for my autoimmune disease.  I don’t love my autoimmune disease, but I am thankful for it.  And I believe that God will continue to work in this and all circumstances. I have no idea what He has planned, but I am confident that His plans are exponentially better than mine.

Romans 8:28

And we know that for those who love God all things work together for good,…