Making Sense of the Fall

I sat up, stood next to my bed, and began the trek to my refrigerator. There, safe on a shelf, half a cup of coffee from yesterday's brew sat waiting for me. 

I opened the microwave, set the cup on a plate, closed the door, and started the machine. Then I shuffled back to where my contacts and prism glasses waited in my bathroom. 

In that short amount of time, I realized my left foot and ankle still rolled out a lot more than it should. I'd hoped the combo of two long Sunday naps and a good night's rest would've strengthened it for at least half a day. 

MRI results will soon detail any damage done. But there's no doubt the fall in my shower last week set me back a ways.

While I feel strangely calm, it's hard to make sense of the fall.

I was actually on my way to a new Bible study before it happened. I'd spoken at a luncheon the week before and received a call later that night from a relative stranger, thanking me for my message. During our talk, she invited me to a local Bible study that held intrigue. Anticipation fueled me for days.

I fell getting ready to leave.

Rattled by the quick decent, I curled back up on my bed and chose rest over activity. Two days later I drove across town for my 
last post-op appointment for my left-foot reconstruction. And now, back in a post-surgical boot, I'm awaiting the results of an MRI. 

It's kind of surreal.

The weekend before the fall, Don and I made a date to watch the moon rise over the cotton fields. When his afternoon event went long, we opted for a grocery run rather than a sit down meal so we could get back to the farm in time.

Not only did we make it, but my feet carried me across uneven ground. Muddy tractor ruts led to the edge of the field, and I traversed the terrain in the dark without feeling off balance even once.

So why the fall? Why now when I was just celebrating greater mobility after a long year of struggle?

Did I do something wrong? Did I misstep? Is God mad at me?

After years of dealing with chronic issues, I'm actually more at peace with my current plight than ever before. I don't like it. But the thought of another surgery with six weeks of no weight bearing almost feels ordinary. 

Others go grocery shopping. I have surgeries to fix my joints. 

After years of processing the questions that sick people do, I'm simply at peace knowing it is what it is because we live in a fallen world where hard things happen. The enemy of our souls "comes to steal, kill, and destroy" (John 10: 10 NIV).

Just last August, a pastor, named Dan, fell in a hotel room, hit his face on a door knob, and lay paralyzed until someone missed him the next morning. Five months later, he still has no feeling from his neck down. 

I thought about him as I struggled to stand after my fall. My limb hurt. But that was a good thing.

Dan gave his first sermon last December, titled, I don't why, but He loves me.

Isn't that awesome? 

Paralyzed. Financially shaken. Unable to do anything for himself, he confidently stated, I don't know why, but he loves me. 

So how do I make sense of the fall? I quiet myself till His love invades and take one slow step at a time. 

And I read about people like Dan, who are deep in the thick of it, refusing to give up. His sister was married to my husband for just over 25 years before she died of cancer. So we've prayed for him, his wife, and their children and grandchildren.  

None of this is easy. But He loves us. Being confident of that will transform your entire journey.



I don't know why, but HE loves me from FBC Brandon on Vimeo.

Some photos courtesy of pixabay.com

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Smockin' Hot Feet

After weeks of waffling on my quest toward health, I’ve grown comfortable with half-a-cup of morning coffee with a teaspoon of 100% pure maple syrup. My acupuncturist may disagree. But there’s something sacred to me about the smell, the taste, and the feel of a cup of coffee in my hands. It speaks, “A new day has dawned. Awake and enjoy.”

So, while I continue to integrate change into my life, I haven’t given up on a morning cup-of-Joe. Instead, I've started smockin’ my feet.

I purchased a box of mini-moxa sticks three weeks ago, but didn't light them for several weeks. When I finally got up the courage to give them a try, I asked Don to work the flame.

Why go to this extreme?

As of this last week, my hips and legs have been relatively pain free. But my feet hurt a lot. Knowing that I’m not even three months post the left-foot reconstruction puts that pain into perspective. 

But since my physical therapist mentioned I should consider taking anti-inflammatory drugs—like the kind that aggravate my stomach, trying moxa at home had greater appeal.

Moxibustion, “a form of fire heat treatments,” can be used to “stimulate specific acupuncture points of the body.” At home, I stick the small, cigar-shaped mugwort herbs where the pain is most intense. As the smoke rises from both the top and bottom of the lit cone, “the heat increases local bloodflow and creates a deep relaxation response.” (Tanaka, Tim H. Ph.D. "Moxibustion: An Ancient Fire Acupuncture Therapy." acupuncture-treatment.com.)

I felt a big difference after another treatment last night, but limped through more pain today. So, I’m curious to see what difference a week or two of consistent treatments makes.

In keeping with perspective, however, when I saw my primary care doctor over a month ago, she explained that our bodies often react to new supplements for a time, only to face a drop off after three months. Meaning, I really won’t know how much I’ve changed until the leaves are back on the trees. 

But I'll wait with hope any day. And until then, I'll celebrate recent steps taken. 

I wore my new On Cloud running shoes to the Don's family farm this weekend. His family and descendants have owned and operated the sprawling estate in South Georgia since the late 1800's. 

A distinct quiet greets us when we open the car door. A lifetime of memories clutter the yard. Only four hours south of Atlanta, a distinct cultural shift demands a change in gear. 

And I like it.

After a Saturday morning meeting with his brothers, Don and I readied for an afternoon toast and roast. In 1972 and '73, Coach Fred Shaver led the Southeast Bulloch High School football team, and their smockin' hot feet, to two state championships. (My husband caught the winning pass in the last minutes of the 72' season game!) Members of those teams gathered to celebrate their beloved coach. 

By the time we left, I felt like I'd been to church. Stories of faith and servant leadership left me with deep respect for Coach Shaver. 

But what spoke even more in this tumultuous time was the presence of Terry Reed, who drove from Boston to hang with his teammates and coach.

While desegregation sparked protests in neighboring counties back in the early 70's, several attendees spoke of the smooth transition they experienced in high school. When Terry approached Don, I asked his opinion.

"A lot of us worked side-by-side, picking cotton and tobacco," he explained. "So it really wasn't a big deal going to to school together."

And if someone took offense, coach was quick to remind his boys that they were to live and act as one in Christ, in church, in the halls of the school, and on the field. 

Terry and Don

Perhaps we all need to spend some time picking cotton and tobacco with our bare hands, side-by-side, to put things in perspective. Hard work and a lot of sweat, while killing rattle snakes with sticks, might make us stronger in a good way. 

I'm currently resting my smockin' hot feet rather than gearing up for the fields. But the spiritual harvest is ripe. And I hope that these feet will soon carry me to places where I can speak peace. 

For in Christ we are one. Black or White. Yellow or Brown. Liberal or Conservative. We are to live and act as one.

"How beautiful on the mountains are the feet of those who bring good news, who proclaim peace, who bring good tidings, who proclaim salvation, who say to Zion, 'Your God reigns!'" (Isaiah 52: 7 NIV).


PS) I fell in the shower today. Slipped on a soapy foot. While I'm thankful I didn't damage my hip, I'm afraid I twisted my left foot beyond what is good. I see my doctor Thursday and sure appreciate prayers for healing till then. 



Some photos courtesy of pixabay.com

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Resolved to Change

I have a confession. 

After seeing an acupuncturist several times this last month, I've cut back on the amount of coffee I drink. I tried going without any one morning, but that only lasted a day. 

Now I waffle. Some days I indulge in a cup. Others, only half a cup. But I've almost decided less is more.

My biggest concern? How will I write a coffee blog if I don't drink coffee anymore?

Due to a lingering cough and continued pain in my feet last fall, I thought about seeing an acupuncturist. But didn't know who to see. So the idea floated around in the back spaces of my brain until I spoke in Chattanooga earlier last month. 

After hearing my story, a woman approached me and recommended I see her acupuncturist friend who lives in metro Atlanta. Impressed by credible stories, I took Dr. Bo Daniel Park's number and made an appointment for the following week.

And so it began.

The soft spoken Korean asked numerous questions before she stuck several needles in my back. Then came the list of recommendations that I've been slowly working into my life.

1) Eat fruits and vegetables and a little protein if necessary. 

2) No coffee!

3) If hungry between meals, swallow a tablespoon of olive oil.

4) Use only pure maple syrup as sweetener.

5) Pour equal parts organic apple cider vinegar and chopped organic pineapple into a mason jar. (If not exactly equal, it's not a problem. I basically split a jar of vinegar and one pineapple between two mason jars.) Add three or four organic eggshells to the mix and allow them to ferment for a week. 

Take 1-2 Tbls. of the mixture with juice, tea, a smoothie, or any other concoction you can come up with, and swallow 1- 3 times a day.

6) Take Mangosteen for brain clarity.

7) Take Triphala to help with reflux.

I started a sample of the apple cider vinegar and egg shell combo a week before Christmas, but ran out while waiting for my own brew to ferment. However, once I'd taken the potion for several days and rested from the holiday rush, I could tell a big difference. 

Now, a week later,  my thoughts are clearer and it's been easier to accomplish little tasks around the house. But with the recent ice storm, I haven't gone far. So the jury is still out. 

Regardless, I'm resolved to change. 

Little by little. Tablespoon by tablespoon. I plan to swallow, gag, and swallow more. Cause I can down almost anything after it's spent time in a blender. 

What about you? Are you making any changes? Perhaps just a small one?

I didn't trade sugar for maple syrup right away, knowing my sister always makes cashew brittle at Christmas. But I'm working toward it now. 

I figure every step forward, even if followed by a few back, is still getting me closer to where I want to be. 

Healthy and whole. In both body and soul. 

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Determined Anticipation

For an entire four wonderful days last week, I savored coffee in the same house as my grown children. We spent the first two nights at my parent's home for the holiday, and then camped out in mine.  Their presence enriched me in a way few things do.

Nathan

Sam and Courtney

We didn't do much. But we didn't have to. Simply living with their heartbeats closer to mine sufficed.

(Cue a moan. My boys would NOT appreciate my sappy sentiment.)

But when the party ended and they went to their respective homes, I descended into what's called a mito crash, meaning a fatigue heavier then my down comforter landed me in bed.

Memories kept me company. And I accomplished a few things in between several two hour naps. But low clouds and thick raindrops have me longing for my covers again today.

So I'm sitting in a coffee shop, instead of my house, determined.

You see, due to the "done and over" fatigue I felt after the fervent, festive push, I considered taking my tree down early - like, before Valentine's Day. Which seemed a bit drastic.

Thus, instead of removing the "boughs of holly," I pondered the after effects of a longing fulfilled... like the feeling that settles in after we've eaten eggs benedict on Christmas morning and opened the presents purchased for months.

The rush over, the anticipation gone, a tiredness creeps in that frankly I find boring. The hype dies down and normal life lies ahead. And I wonder why my insides shift so quickly.

It's really not that hard to understand. Because Christmas requires a systematic approach.

I purchase small gifts throughout the fall. My tree goes up in mid-November to spread out the work load. Soon after, I fill my living room shelves with holiday décor and set out my favorite nativity sets with gentle care.

Normally the porch is decorated either right before or after Thanksgiving. But it took much longer this year. In fact, we didn't string lights outside until a week before the big day.

But we got it done thanks to the help of this sweet family. And then built a fire and watched a holiday movie outside on my lap top.

Makayla

Olivia and Carl

The next day, I baked cookies with mom and Courtney, and started wrapping gifts. And as the week progressed, I checked off a to-do list that, in time, allowed me to relax in the pew of two candlelight services since Nathan sang in one and mom's hand bell choir played in the other.

As each congregation stood to sing, O Come All Ye Faithful,
I fought tears like always, imagining an entire world of Jesus followers trekking to Bethlehem one more time, together.

And as I type, tears have started flowing again, surprising me.

But I love those moment.s I love when our candles are held high and we sing, Silent Night. And I love the feeling of peace that descends, reminding us that something much bigger is at stake than the daily drama we face.

A divine baby was born. God entered the world through Mary's womb. And the beauty of it all defies logic.

But it's 2017 already.

So what's up with me?

The sheer power of anticipation became more real to me this year. For six to eight weeks, I was driven by the excitement that leads to the night of wonder.

I shopped. I wrapped. And occasionally even joined in the food prep. 

And it was all for a grand party that ended somewhat abruptly, in the bleak midwinter, without colorful, shimmering lights.

But it also hit me that the whole point of living with determined anticipation is to ignite what we need for the long haul.

As December 25th approaches the bad fades, a calm pervades, and I actually believe, All Is Well.

The best of humanity ignites as we remember His birth. His coming. His entry into this world.

But He really is coming again. And I wonder what would it be like to live with a similar determined anticipation throughout the year.

It's hard to stay focused without a looming deadline. I know.

But it's out there. Somewhere. And living as if that day matters more than anything else will allow everything else to fall into place.

I want that perspective. I need that hope. The story isn't over.

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