medicine

Refined

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“One day we took the children to see a goldsmith refine gold after the ancient manner of the East. He was sitting beside his little charcoal fire. (‘He shall sit as a refiner’; the gold- or silversmith never leaves his crucible once it is on the fire.) In the red glow lay a common curved roof tile; another tile covered it like a lid. This was the crucible. In it was the medicine made of salt, tamarind fruit and burnt brick dust, and imbedded in it was the gold. The medicine does its appointed work on the gold, ‘then the fire eats it,’ and the goldsmith lifts the gold out with a pair of tongs, lets it cool, rubs it between his fingers, and if not satisfied puts it back again in fresh medicine. This time he blows the fire hotter than it was before, and each time he puts the gold into the crucible, the heat of the fire is increased; ‘it could not bear it so hot at first, but it can bear it now; what would have destroyed it then helps it now.’ ‘How do you know when the gold is purified?’ we asked him, and he answered, ‘When I can see my face in it [the liquid gold in the crucible] then it is pure’ (Amy Carmichael, Gold Cord).

I love the idea that gold is considered pure when the refiner can see his reflection in it. The same goes for me. When my Maker can see His reflection in me, that’s when I know that I have been refined and made pure.

Lord, refine us so that we will faithfully reflect Your image wherever we go. No matter how long it takes or how hot it gets, keep us in the fire until we are purified from anything that hinders Your image in us. Amen.

Another One of those Random Blogs about Nothing and Everything

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This is day two of my first (and hopefully only) bout with pneumonia. To be more accurate, this is the second day since I was diagnosed with pneumonia. It still seems surreal to think about. I’m almost positive that I did my best Don Knotts look of surprise when the doctor told me what I had.

I still don’t feel horrible. I feel decent. I just don’t have an overabundance of energy (and whatever I have ebbs quickly). If I have to be sick periodically, I’d rather it be like this where I can still marginally participate in life and do stuff.

Also, I think it’s easier to be sick in either the fall or spring than in the middle of summer. All that ridiculous heat and excessive humidity don’t help with the whole low-energy, fatigued situation.

I’m thankful for drugs. Especially the drugs that keep you from having to go to the hospital where they charge you one arm, one leg, one kidney, and one first born. Health care has officially spiraled out of control.

I’m thankful for perpetually sleepy 16- (going on 17) year old cats who give the best therapy by curling up in your lap and promptly falling asleep. I believe that may have more of a healing effect than any drug.

I’m thankful for good music that still has the power to transcend the immediate pitfalls and trials of life and transports me back to a seemingly easier and better time. Today’s soundtrack was provided by Steely Dan.

I’m thankful that while I may have more difficultly sleeping lately, my God never sleeps nor slumbers while I’m under His care. There’s not a night that goes by where He doesn’t see me and know where I am and who I am. There will never be a place where He can’t find me to rescue and heal and save me.

As that old guy from Monty Python and the Holy Grail said, “I’m feeling better!”

 

I’m Feeling a Bit Sheepish

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happy-sheep-daily-5-omg-cute-things-080212-03

Sheep are stupid. I know, I know. You look at a lamb and think, “Isn’t that the cutest and cuddliest thing ever?” But really sheep are helpless and defenseless without a shepherd. Yet Jesus calls His believers sheep, not to be insulting but to remind us of who we are.

Most of us (especially in this time) look at children and see innocence. We at times tend to idolize and adore children almost to the point of worship. But have you ever seen a sick child refuse to take the medicine that might make him well? Maybe you’ve been that child at some point. Or maybe you’ve seen a child engage in behavior that will lead to injury because he won’t listen to the parent that tells him not to do that.

Jesus calls attention to little children. True, He wants us to have the unwavering faith of a child, but He also wants us to see that we’re completely dependent on a loving Father who sometimes makes choices we don’t like but end up being way better for us in the end than what we would have chosen.

The point is that we’re all fallen creatures who live with the consequences of Adam and Eve’s bad choices (hey, they both messed up and are equally to blame). We’ve ALL sinned and ALL fallen short of the glory of God.

I think Jesus wants us to remember who we are. We’re frail, fallible human beings who need a Savior, even after we’re saved. We will never not need Jesus.

There’s a great book that I read a long time ago that really delves into Psalm 23 from a shepherd’s point of view. It’s by Philip Kellor and is called A Shepherd Looks at the 23rd Psalm. I highly recommend it.

So remember that you’re not perfect. You’re not the be-all, end-all. But also remember that you do bear the image of God, even in the midst of all your flaws and failures.

I’m Not Crazy, Am I?

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I think there’s a common belief among evangelicals that every problem can be solved by praying more and having more faith. Sometimes that’s true, but sometimes it’s not.

Sometimes, you need a little help.

Some people have anxiety that won’t go away, no matter how much praying they do. Some people have depression that all the faith in the world can’t lift.

That’s why there’s doctors and medication. Because sometimes your brain just doesn’t work right. Sometimes you have a chemical imbalance or synapses misfiring, and you need help.

I do think that a lot of issues are spiritual in nature and I really truly believe that God can heal. I also believe God put it in the hearts of men and women to help cure people of physical and mental ailments. God sometimes chooses to cure through human hands.

I don’t like the term “mental illness.” As a pastor said, it gives the impression that your malady is all in your head. But, as he went on to say, a broken mind is just as broken in a very real sense as a broken limb.

As of today, I am taking medication for generalized anxiety disorder (with obsessive thinking that I can’t shut off thrown in). I can’t wait to be myself again, to not live under a constant state of anxiety and to finally be able to listen to myself think for once.

It’s not a shameful thing to admit you need help. Or that you need drugs to function normally (prescribed over-the-counter drugs taken according to the instructions).

It doesn’t mean you’re less of a person or less of a Christian if you struggle with depression or anxiety or are bipolar. In fact, your struggles will give you a testimony to reach people for Christ that most people can’t touch. You will be able to use your pain and sttuggles to help someone else through theirs.

And by the way, normal is just average. Don’t be normal. Be spectacular. Be extraordinary.

Your Normally Scheduled Blogs Will Resume Tomorrow (Hopefully)

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This is not your normal blog. If it were, there would be something witty or profound. But seeing as I have a migraine headache (or just a really nasty sinus headache), I’m taking the night off. So yeah, I just wrote a blog about how I’m not going to write a blog tonight. Go figure.

Hopefully, I will see you again tomorrow pain-free (both you and me) and with something interesting to say. If not, I’ll just steal someone else’s brilliant ideas and pass them off as my own.

Until then, keep living the dream.

Taking Your Medicine

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My niece was not having a good day. She’s teething and has a cold, among other things. My sister was trying to get her to take the medicine that would make her feel better and not be in as much pain, but she wanted no part of it.

It would be easy for me to scoff at a 17-month old who is refusing what is obviously good for her. But then I have to ask myself how many  times I’ve done the same thing.

I don’t mean when I was growing up and adamantly refused to take my cough medicine (namely, because it tasted like cherry-flavored death in a bottle). I mean now when I don’t want the disciplines from God that will make me more like Jesus and less like that selfish sinner I used to be.

I want every day to be sunny, but without constant sunshine without the occasional rainy days leads to a desert. If I never have bad days or days that don’t make sense, then I don’t appreciate the really good days.

I’m sure God looks at me like I looked at my niece today, smiling and shaking his head. He knows what’s best for me. I only think I do. I only see a limited part of the picture. He sees it all.

I think the lesson for me is to be thankful when things don’t go the way I wanted them to. I can’t count the times I look back at my life, grateful that I didn’t get some of the things I asked for and desperately wanted at the time, because I didn’t know what I wanted or how to ask for it. And most of the time I still don’t.

The story has a happy ending. Once my niece settled down and took her medicine, she felt a lot better. Once I stop fighting God and demanding my own way and finally agree to his way, I often feel a lot better. I have a peace that only comes with acceptance and surrender.

Now if I could figure a way to get my cat to take her medicine.

 

Thankful for Life

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Of all the potential bucket list items I might have chosen to get done before I die, getting hit by a car was not one of them. But now I can scratch that one off my list.

I was crossing 5th Street in Historic Downtown Franklin when I foolishly stepped in front of a Mustang and got clipped. It knocked me to the ground and I’m pretty sure it took out the side view mirror on the car.

I remember seeing the car and thinking, “Oh crap, it’s going to hit me.” That’s not a feeling I want to relive any time soon.

I looked down at my hand and my pinky was bent in a funny shape. I was positive I had just broken my very first bone at 40 years old. I kept waiting for the serious pain to kick in, but it never did.

The girl who hit me was profusely apologetic and asked at least a thousand times if I was okay and could she call an ambulance for me. I felt more bad for her than for me. I got a little woozy and decided to sit down in Sweet CeCe’s just across the street.

Later, I spent three hours in the emergency room at Williamson Medical Center, mostly on account of that crooked little finger.

The only injuries I have to report are a dislocated pinky and a cut on my elbow that required five stitches. Oh, and a very small scrape on my right knee.

I did end up missing a movie I had bought a ticket for that I really wanted to see. The Perks of Being a Wallflower at the Franklin Theatre will have to wait. Hopefully, they will show it again soon.

Overall, I am most thankful to be alive and in one unbroken and (mostly) pain-free piece. I could have been killed or seriously injured. I could very easily have hit my head when I fell.

But I am convinced that God was watching out for me. Even though I scraped up my elbow, the jacket I was wearing has no tear or holes in it. My jeans where the knee got scraped are intact. As am I.

I might be a little sore in the next day or so, but I will never be more glad for soreness. I am truly blessed.

 

Getting Sick is Really Sick, Ya Know?

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I had round 2 with sickness last night.

I spend much quality time near the porcelain throne, paying homage. It felt like I threw up everything I’d eaten since 2007. It was not a fun experience.

I still don’t know what caused it– whether it was food poisoning or a stomach bug– but I do know this: I’m happy to be on the other side of it, blogging from an upright position and not in a fetal position at the foot of the toilet.

I’ve had worse pain before in my life, but last night I felt like December 21 had come early and the Mayans were on target. I wanted my sickness to end. I would have given just about anything for my stomach to settle down.

Don’t worry. I’m not contagious.

I’m extra-thankful for good health tonight. It sometimes takes a little pain and illness to make you appreciate the good days. It takes a little rain to make you appreciate the days of sunshine.

C.S. Lewis once said that pain is God’s megaphone to rouse a deaf world. He whispers to us through our pleasures, but shouts in our pain. Otherwise, we’d get so caught up in the gifts and forget the Giver. OK, at least I would.

Here’s hoping to a good night’s sleep for me. Here’s hoping for an attitude of gratitude and thankfulness for all the small blessings we normally take for granted.

As my friend says all the time, “Life is good, God is great.”

Thag You Very Buch

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bilbobaggins

“Then, as he said, the dwarves’ good feeling towards the little hobbit grew stronger every day. There were no more groans or grumbles. They drank to his health, and they patted him on the back, and they made a great fuss of him; which was just as well, for he was not feeling particularly cheerful. He had not forgotten the look of the Mountain, nor the thought of the dragon, and he had beside a shocking cold. For three days he sneezed and coughed, and he could not go out, and even after that his speeches at banquets were limited to “Thag you very buch.” (from The Hobbit)

That’s all I have to say tonight.

I have a cold, so don’t expect too much. My head feels like it’s stuffed with cotton and I can’t breathe through my nose. I think a good night’s rest will be just what the doctor ordered.

Also, “thag you very buch” for reading these little posts. At least that’s how it would come out if I said it aloud right now. I do appreciate every single person who reads these things when there are probably a thousand other blogs to read and a thousand other things to do, see, watch, hear and go to.

Hopefully in a a day or two I will be back to where I was before the cold. I won’t say normal, because I’ve never been that. So until then, take care and take lots and lots of Vitamin Cs.

The Joys of Insomnia

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Last night, I couldn’t sleep. It was not fun.

I went to bed somewhere in the neighborhood of 11 pm and thought I would be good to go. An hour later, I knew I was in trouble. Every half hour later found me still wide awake and increasingly agitated with myself for not being able to sleep. I was also annoyed with my cat for being able to fall asleep the moment she laid down on the pillow (I’m sure she was equally annoyed with me for tossing and turning so much and waking her up). For the record, agitation doesn’t help you sleep. And no, warm milk did not help.

I have found the harder you try to sleep, the less likely it is that you will succeed. The old motto of “If at first you don’t succeed, try try again,” doesn’t work with insomnia. It only makes it worse.

This may or may not make sense to you, but I may or may not have fallen asleep somewhere between 2:30 and 7 am. I can’t really be sure that I wasn’t deep in thought or really sleeping. When I woke up in the morning, I didn’t feel like I had slept at all.

The good part is that I got in a lot of praying. Mostly along the lines of, “Lord, help me fall asleep,” but nevertheless, I had plenty of time to pray and meditate. The bad part is that I had plenty of time to think, too much time.

Hopefully, I will sleep better tonight. I have felt like a zombie all day and my mental capacity has been at the level of “fire bad, tree pretty.” It hasn’t been pretty.

Maybe I will experience the ultimate irony and dream about being awake all night with insomnia. Heck, I’ve dreamed stranger dreams than that by far.

I’m remembering the verse in the Psalms (I think) which says that God grants sleep to those he loves. That’s a beautiful promise. I pray tonight that both you and I realize that promise and that we wake up refreshed and ready for a new day full of possibilities and adventures and whatever God has in store for us.