Christmas Came to my Couch

A few weeks ago I wrote in my journal:

 

"I need Christmas to happen to me."

 
An honest prayer after a long, hard season. No idea how it could happen. I mean, not like Jesus is going to show up in a manger twice. Not like I had the clarity of mind or body to go see Him even if He did. No clue how God could pull this off, but He is God. If anyone could do it, He could.

Then came the dental reality.

The shock of seeing my sinus cavity sitting on the roots of my teeth because the bone wasn't thick enough to cover the root tips. The root canal gone wonky. Then the mother of dental complications.
I've had teeth extracted before. 48 hours of medicated dreamland. A few more days of letting the gums heal, and all is good in the world.

Not this time.

This time the tooth broke multiple times. The dentist had to drill it out, which was not my idea of happy. As he said, he used everything but a surgeon to remove that tooth, but that really wasn't the worst part. The worst part was the post from my previous crown had punctured my sinus cavity, which created a perforated sinus. What does that mean? It means I could breath through my mouth via my nose through the hole left by the tooth my dentist removed. It also means off the chart sinus pain that seems to radiate through my entire head that even piggybacking ibuprofen and hydrocodone doesn't kill. It also means sleeping on my couch where I am propped up to lessen the pressure and thus keeping my head from exploding, which seems counter intuitive when trying to stop this much pain, but somewhere in the dizzying pain and medication created fog, I keep hearing, "You've got kids to raise," so I'm propped up and not exploding.

It also means our decision not to "do Christmas" this year was a good one.
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A few weeks ago, we opted for a never-done-by-us-before Christmas. No tree. No lights. No decorations. No gifts.

Not being a humbug. Not anti-Christmas. Just tired of Christmas as it is.

Tired of the stress. Tired of figuring out how to get everything done in this tiny time frame. Tired of Christmas being something we do. I wanted Christmas to be something we experience.

This year was an experience. This is what I wrote friends Christmas Eve:

"Leanna texted this morning to see how I am and listened to my tired and frustrated rant, and she just told me she loves me and is sending hugs and is sorry. It was the perfect response. I’ve learned real love just accepts you in your misery and doesn’t have to make you better but loves you and hugs you where you are, and Leanna loves deeply. It is an amazing thing she does.

 It’s a pretty amazing gift actually.

 And there are other gifts.

Our neighbors Tim and Cynthia, whom I enjoyed a morning with coffee with this week, brought by delicious baked goods. She makes sugar cookies look like art, and when he found out I am still not doing well, he immediately wanted to know what we need and how they can help. They had offered to take me to the dentist and drive me home so I would not have to drive while medicated last Friday. Truly, they are precious and such blessings.

Our other friends and neighbors Dawna and Chris called to wish us a Merry Christmas this morning, and I could not talk, so I texted and explained the situation. Dawna texted back and asked what we need. I told her prayer; I am weary. She asked if they can have the kids this evening and take them to their family gathering. They have something like 20 grandkids of various ages, and the kids can join the fun. As she said, “There will be kids and fun and noise.” So they are taking the kids, and she is bringing me a plate of sweet potatoes back with them.

It’s funny how when we get past the can’t-believe-how-ugly-it-looks wrapping and the lopsided bow, we can see the gifts we really want and need. This is not how I planned to spend Christmas, not what I would have ever asked for, and yet, it is. It is quiet. It is restful. And my goodness it is dripping with love.

A few weeks ago I wrote in my journal, “I need Christmas to happen to me. I have no idea how. I just need it.”

Well, let me tell you how. You have a root canal that goes wonky and hurts for nearly 2 weeks, and just as it gets better, have 3 teeth removed. Let one of those teeth be majorly complicated that results in a hole that goes through the bone and into your sinuses that feels like the pain of a dry sock and sinus infection all rolled into one. Be totally useless. Really. All you can do is sleep on your couch because motion, talking, laughing, eating causes pain and reopens that hole, so all you can do is sit and sleep and do and say nothing. You are a lump, and you have to sleep on the couch because it props you up. To lie down is to make your whole head want to explode.

Now take this very inglorious lump with the swollen face…and make it loved.

Not because it has anything to give, not even a Christmas card or a cookie, but just because it is and because there are people who have compassion and kindness and maybe know what it is to need or maybe just know what it is to give…what it is to love…

And that is Christmas. Right here on my couch. Christmas.

Can you imagine the craziness of it all?

Me either.

But then, it is Christmas, and really, a King in a stable all because a perfect God loved wildly? Does it get any crazier than that?

Yep. On my couch. Christmas."

The Human Stuff We Don't Talk About...But Maybe Should

I have spent much of the holiday on my couch. A few weeks ago I had a root canal done that went a bit wonky. My dentist did his part perfectly. My dental genetics, which is the cause of the root canal in the first place, did their usual antics, be a pain. Figuratively and literally.

The pain had finally subsided nearly 10 days later when the next phase of treatment started. Due to bone structure, which is to say I have very little bone structure in my upper jaw, the sinus cavity sits on the bone and in some cases, on the roots of some of my upper teeth. the result is a lot of pain in my sinus area and teeth and my teeth are decaying despite all efforts and all hygiene habits to stop them.

There are two solutions. First, we can do a major sinus surgery and lift the cavity and then do at least one bone graft but possibly more. Long time. Lots of pain. THEN we root canal and crown every tooth I have on the top. In case your trying to calculate the cost of this in your head, imagine both kids' college funds and then some. The crowns alone would be over $10k out of my pocket. And, there are no guarantees it'll save my teeth. Very unlikely since the crown and post I have now are one of the major issues we have to address. Second option. Embrace it for what it is. Genetics are not always kind. Remove all the upper teeth since something has to be done and cope with being 44 and having dentures.

Yep. 44. And I need dentures.

Despite great hygiene and thousands of dollars worth of dental work, I have to have dentures.

Something in that just feels completely wrong to me.

But as I write this, now from my recliner, we have started efforts to keep my lower teeth as long as possible and have begun the removal of the upper teeth, which is surprisingly hard to write because I fight this mental shame. No one who knows about this has said anything that would make me feel ashamed. In fact, those who know about it are thrilled. They have walked the road of horrific sinus headaches and infections with me and the ongoing tooth troubles. They aren't embarrassed that a friend of theirs is getting dentures. They are excited that their friend is getting out of pain.

So why do I feel ashamed?

I think I was taught to. Let's look at society for a moment. People who lose their teeth aren't pretty. In fact, they are deemed "hicks" or "rednecks", folks of lesser social couth than the general populace. Their lack of basic hygiene and social standards are obvious. I was on a dating site one time, and a man's profile said bluntly, "If you don't have all your teeth, I don't have any interest." Wow. Are teeth that important, or is he making some serious leaps of character judgment based on dental records?

And here I am putting it out there for the world, "I have a significant number of missing biological teeth, and it is going to get worse."

Why would I tell any of you that? Two reasons.

1. I want to tell you about Christmas, but to really understand, you have to know the back story of why I am on my couch in a medicated haze.

2. As I've talked to friends about my dental issue, I've realized a few things. A lot more people have crowns, partials, bridges, and dentures than I ever imagined. Some even younger than me. I had no idea. And, I can't tell you anything about my friends' teeth. I can tell you about their eyes, their hugs, their height because of their hugs, their hearts, but nothing about their teeth. They have teeth. I think I would notice if they didn't, but maybe I wouldn't. Maybe I'm too busy seeing inside them that I'm less concerned with what decorates them.

Maybe some of y'all are facing issues like this, too. Maybe you are having to face some minor or even major physical change that society likes to tag as a failure or an identity changer or a value-lessener. Whatever it is, I hope you know you are not the only one who has dealt with the mental or emotional pain of what you can't control, wondering how you will look, wondering how people will react.

I wish I could tell you we live in a world where that doesn't matter, but that would be a lie. To some folks, it obviously matters a lot. What I can tell you is you don't need to feel ashamed or like a failure. You don't need to let this piece of you define all of you, and you are not alone in finding your way through the thoughts and emotions of it all. And you might be surprised who knows exactly how you feel but just never said anything because they didn't think anyone would understand how they felt.

And if nothing else, for what it is worth, I can relate. Won't tell you I "understand" because I might not, but I can relate, which is to say I understand being embarrassed because the body is wondrously made but it is still made of clay that cracks and breaks. Sort of stinks, but it is what it is. So if you need someone who gets the frustration of living in a human body, I'm your girl.

Besides that, though, is Christmas, and I really want to tell you about Christmas. You might wonder what kind of Christmas happens when you spend a few weeks medicated on your couch and can't really get out and do anything that resembles Christmas. Well, in my case, Christmas came to my couch.

Searching for Life Beyond my Imagination Part 3

I'm wondering...if we are called to be different, if we truly believe Christ is the Savior and healer and the Spirit is the counselor...why are there so many broken Christians wandering around?

I'm not talking about imperfect. I'm talking about broken--insecure, angry, lacking trust, fearful, still living in abuse, still living identities of rejection/abused/unvalued.

If Jesus is the answer, why are so many people who attend church regularly, pray and read their Bibles, and do the right stuff, still living in lack? If Jesus came to give abundant life, why are so many living in poverty conditions? Why do the statistics of church attenders (for suicide, divorce, drug addiction, crime, etc.) look just like those of non-church attenders?

If Jesus really makes a difference--and I know He does--how do I need to live and what do I need to do so He can make a bigger difference in others' lives through me?

Searching for Life Beyond my Imagination Part 2

My mind reverberated with the question:

If you knew you could not fail, what would you do?

For the first time in my life, I knew.

First, I would stop spending four hours going to church every Sunday morning, and instead, I would take Jesus out to folks who need Him. I would have worship and teaching a nursing home or youth home or orphanage. Instead of praying for God to bring people in, I would ask where He wanted me to take Jesus to. The Great Commission says:

“All authority has been given to Me in heaven and on earth. Go therefore and make disciples of all the nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit,  teaching them to observe all things that I have commanded you; and lo, I am with you always, even to the end of the age.”--Matthew 28:18-20

If I fully lived the truth that all authority is Christ's and I can't lose, I would go.

Second, I would have a study in my home in which I taught people their real identities in Christ. It is my experience that the church teaches a lot about how to live (i.e. what to do and not do), but they don't teach about who we are. If people really understood who God is and thus, who we are in Him, wouldn't we doing what Jesus said we would do?

“Most assuredly, I say to you, he who believes in Me, the works that I do he will do also; and greater works than these he will do, because I go to My Father."--John 14:12

I don't know about you, but I don't know anyone doing anything close to what Jesus did, which makes me think we either don't know Him, don't know the Father, or don't know ourselves, and it is time to change that. I cannot continue to live an innocuous life proclaiming that my prayers are bringing about changes I just don't know or see yet and I am making an impact by loving "every moment those God puts in my path" and say that is good enough.

 

When I imagine what God can do through me, safely sitting on a pew singing hymns, dropping a tithes check into the offering, and lying by telling everyone I'm fine because--what will they think of me if I'm not?--isn't it. I imagine young people passionately desperate for Him.

 

I imagine young people finding answers for their lives, finding identities their parents had no idea how to nurture, being healed of abuses most of us do not want to imagine. I imagine young people who dream of changing their city, not just upgrading their cell phone. I imagine young people with a ferocious faith who know they can't lose...

 

...And who will teach them they can't lose unless someone believes she won't lose them?

 

I want to be that someone.

 

I imagine women walking out of broken hearts and broken pasts. I imagine women rising up to know they are the place God chooses to birth reality, not just the physical but the spiritual. They are the place heaven invades earth, and if they can conceive it, He will bring it forth. I imagine women knowing they are able and worthy and hand-chosen to be the dreamers and birth place of mighty movements of God. I imagine women doing and being and breathing and birthing more than they can think or imagine because of who God says they are. I imagine women with a ferocious faith to boldly know they cannot lose...

 

...And are just waiting for someone to say, "I believe in you because I believe in the One who made you and lives in you."

 

I want to be that someone.

 

I want to do what Jesus said I will do, and while I'm not doing it yet, I imagine I can.

Searching for Life Beyond my Imagination Part 1

My friend John Perron is a Marine. He served actively for 9.5 years, served in Desert Storm.

My friend Leanna Ellis is author of the Plain Fear series, one of my absolute favorite series ever. She is one of my soul stretchers. She dumps truth in my lap, plops down beside me, and asks, "So, what are we going to do with this?" She's always in with me, and we go some interesting places together.

I've never met Allen West, but he gets in my face with his comments so often I think he is my personal version of a Christian USMC Jiminy Cricket that lives in the land of Facebook.

This week comments made by all of these people suddenly slammed together like a cosmic crash of life questioning proportions.

John told me once, "We (Marines) were never allowed to believe we lose." Take those words, "We could not lose," put them on reverb in your head, and let them play so long that they sink into your spirit so that the core of you is whispering, "We can not lose." Now add the harmony, "If you knew (I cannot lose), what would you do?"

That is the background music playing when Leanna plops down beside you and says, "I read this book about this man who lives with such ferocity of faith..."

Now, insert Allen West commenting on a young woman who embodies two values of the Marines: 1. Semper Fi and 2. never leave a comrade behind.

And suddenly I can't help asking if my faith is ferocious or happily "good enough", and how truly "good enough" is it, if I am leaving comrades behind?
And if I truly know God's character as semper fidelis, how can I remotely suppose I could lose?
And if I truly can't lose, what would I do?

If I know I can't lose, what would I do?

For the first time in my life, I knew.

On the Unthinkable Days

He's been gone almost a year.

Each day I look at the calendar, breathe deep the step closer, bow my head, and pray.

I've never lost a brother. I have no idea how that must feel. I won't tell her I understand. I don't. And when it comes to advice for how to get through the day, all I have to offer is, "Trust God to not let go of you." How many days I prayed that very thing. "God, I can't figure out how to hold onto you, so please don't let go of me."

I pray He doesn't let go of her, and I know He won't. Through the kicking and the screaming and the questions and tears and....rage...and...all of it. He holds on.

But the day is still there, and the pain is still real, and the place he sat is still empty, and the phone he answered goes to someone else, and, dear God, a year? Has it really been a year?

Some folks don't remember the date, and that's okay. Some folks remember but don't know what to do with it, so they do nothing, say nothing. I've come to accept that as okay, too. Silence is far better than a voice that rips right to the soul because of a heart that doesn't understand.

Me? I'm jumping right into that day with her. I'm going to cry because he was amazing and the world lost a beautiful life. I'm going to send her a message with a prayer and love and tell her today is hard, SO very hard, and my heart is with her. Even if it means getting through one minute at a time, I know she can do it...even though there is a part of her sister's heart that doesn't want to...because part of her simply wants to be with him...because...a year? And how many years to come? And what life events between now and then that he was supposed to be part of? And does anyone really know how totally unfathomable it is to think of those days without him?

One minute at a time. On this day...and those to come. That is how we get through sometimes. One minute at a time.

And even though I know it is true, I don't think I will tell her as hard as it is to believe, it will get easier. Whether the pain lessens or the heart acclimates, I don't know. The hole never goes away, but somehow the smiles come easier, and the tears some less. And surely it is all because God does not let go. Time doesn't heal. He does.

She knows this.

She has lost people she loves before, and her heart has mended, but this...oh, my gracious, nothing is like this. Maybe I will tell her that. Maybe I will tell her to simply be nice to herself and grieve and cry and mourn as much as she needs to because she really does need to.

While she mourns, I will think of my favorite memories of him and what his life meant to me, and I will choose to do things that celebrate that life. I will write down everything I do, what I feel and think, how I smile and cry, and I will tell her everything because she needs to know.

She needs to know people remember the gift and mourn its loss. She needs to know I don't understand...can never understand...and yet, I do.

I understand she might need to tell me things, things that made her laugh, things that make her heart break, things that give her strength, questions she has, anger still working through. If she does, I'll listen. And so you know now, I'm going to cry, maybe with her, maybe without her, but I'm going to cry because...because part of me still keeps thinking this can't be real and it certainly can't be a year...and, God in heaven, I wish they didn't have to hurt like this. I know it is part of being in this world, but, God, I hate this for them. I hate this for her. My heart breaks for her.

And I know. I know it won't fix anything. It won't remotely make it better, but my heart is holding her tight...and even though he is gone, my heart isn't letting go of him either. And who knows but in ways only He can manage, maybe my stepping into the day with her is one of the ways He holds onto her. If so, I hope she knows He is holding her tight, and even on this day...the unthinkable one year day...He isn't letting go.

Parenting--The Amazingly Simple Answer

Folks ask me often how I have such amazing kids. Here is the recipe:

1. Pray ALL THE TIME.

2. Know they were made to be amazing

3. Understand the road to amazing is bumpy. They'll mess up and so will I and only God can cover any of us.

4. Accept the fact the best thing I can give them is my attention, interest, and encouragement. I am Mom 24/7. They are not my children simply when it is convenient.

5. Plead for and give grace....and plead for more grace when I don't give enough.

6. Say no even when it hurts...especially when it hurts me. (some of you parents know what I mean)

7. Pray some more.

8. Be amazed...every day...with the wondrous people God is growing them into.

 

Repeat EVERY SINGLE DAY.