Rescue Me

About a year ago, I went through a phase where I kept researching wilderness survival stories.  I found it interesting that those who survived were the people who rejected the sweet sleep of death for the horrible pain of survival at all costs; those who developed the mental toughness to hang on one more day to see if help would come. The survivors never gave up. 

I also found it interesting that many people still died while they were being rescued.  It seemed that the goal was to push the body to hang on until that helicopter was landing. Once it did, the adrenal glands could take a break from the exhausting job of pumping the body full of hormones to make life-saving decisions. The heart could slow down.  The mind could turn off. The muscles could relax. It was over... The problem was, the fight to hold on was part of the reason they were still alive. When the rescuers touched down, sometimes they breathed their last. This wasn't the Disney version of a kiss to the sleeping princess on rose petals. This was a deadly relief that succumbs to exhaustion. I know how they feel...

There is still so much I want to share, but I will have to continue to wait until my doing so won't add pressure to an already tough situation.  God has been moving and our first few miracles finally started trickling down a few weeks ago.  

The problem is, like the person in wilderness survival mode, once just a drop of relief fell at my feet, my body gave up.  I no longer had to keep being strong.  I shut down and plunged into physical sickness.  Dengue fever has humbled me and rocked all my faith in my rock-hard immunity.  

Before this, I wasn't exactly being healthy.  I wasn't eating right or exercising. I was surviving. I was sharing another's depression. I was isolated and alone. I gave up my dream to run races. I lost my way. I didn't want to get involved with other ministries because I didn't know how much time I had left in Grenada. I heard words I never thought I would hear that broke my heart. I withdrew from everything but the bare minimum needed to get by.  Now, my old troubles have dimmed in a small ray of light. Unfortunately, that has also brought with it a lovely mosquito-borne tropical illness and additional work at the mission radio station. The other half of my team has left the mission.  I'm now running the programing and day-to-day duties of the station alone and training new people several times per week to change that while also running a three-week (and counting) fever.  I'm rescued from my wilderness prison, but I'm still on life support in the helicopter, and I have to remind myself not to collapse just yet.

Don't get me wrong, I wouldn't trade it for the world! There is now hope. I finally have seen my first few miracles. Before, I was driving a car while watching the rear-view mirror. This was severely limiting my ability to get anywhere. It's now been smashed and all that is left to look at is my road ahead. I have faced my goodbyes. My past is losing its weighted grip on me. I'm finding forgiveness. I have found healing in relationships I thought would never embrace me again. And, I now believe coming to this island was the right decision.  

Ministry options are beginning to open up as I open myself up again, and I'm losing my fear of getting involved.  Before, I felt I was a complete mess and one step away from losing my ability to function.  How could I make commitments or start new relationships this way? Now, my confidence is coming back, and I feel I can open my heart up to help again.

So, this entry isn't going to be any deep spiritual life lessons, more like my personal counseling session.  I don't have any counselor here, and so I find my therapy writing to the vast void of the internet.  No one actually has to read it, I just need to do it. I actually haven't been sleeping well lately because of the writer in my head, as I like to call her.  I know I need to write when I lay down and close my eyes to sleep and immediately see her at her little desk composing blogs on the computer in my head.  I can't shut her off until I let my inner writer out.

So, in the spirit of composing an actual missionary letter this time, here's some prayer requests for those supporting me in this way:

1) Pray for my work at the radio station. Pray I can train others well on how to run things. The person I was sharing the work with left unexpectantly, and I'm trying my best to manage the training and double the work to keep the radio running. But, God is good. I am encouraged by people in Grenada who are playing it in public settings like grocery stores, public buses, and shopping centers, so the message is reaching others. I've also gotten positive feedback from the university students as well. It's good to see God is using it to make a difference through the scripture presented to people. Sometimes working alone in the tiny programing room, I would lose sight of the vision and wonder if anyone out there was even listening. God continues to remind me that they are!  If you would like to listen, go to  http://www.globalfamilynetwork.net/ and click on the live radio link.  While I have no control over the music, as that's a battle I chose not to engage in, I do control the sermon content. 

2) Bible study opportunities are opening up for individual study with listeners requesting it from me. Pray God is with us in our sessions.

3) Pray for our local student Christian organization at St. George's University and its outreach to the undergraduate and graduate students.  We already do a prayer tent outreach twice per semester.  We have seen many come and request special prayer during this time. I'm trying to get permission from student government to put up prayer boxes on campus where students can submit prayer requests and we can have a team go through them and pray for them.  Also, I want it to be dual purpose and be a way for students to request Bible studies.  This has been attempted before but never realized.  Pray God opens up the doors this time.

4) I'm trying to start up a weekly Bible study at the women's prison, which has never had one before.  I would ask for prayers that I could get assistance from a local church, as the head of the prison doesn't want to start this program unless someone is here who can take it over when I leave the island next December. I'm praying God leads me to the right local person who shares this passion to work with the inmates long term and tell them about Jesus.

5) I'm also trying to get Bible literature and tracts here, as we have never had any since I've been here. I am running into my own set of issues with this as well. Pray doors open and literature comes to share with the people. There is such a huge need, and the people are hungry for it. 

6) I'm also getting involved with the at-risk kids in an after-school program, as soon as I finally kick the dengue. I've made all the contacts and am just waiting for my fever to break so I can love on some kids. 

7) Pray for me personally, that God would show me my path for my final year here on the island. Pray that I would find my purpose and forgive myself for this past year of lack of progress.  I needed time to heal, and I took it.  But, I also deal with the guilt of not having any major accomplishments other than depression this past year. I guess I tie my self worth too much to outside accomplishments, so maybe it was good for me and my humility to have a year like this.  Also, pray I finally kick the dengue.  Being sick here with no insurance or AC is no fun. I have taken control of my health habits again and have been eating raw for almost two weeks now. I'm feeling better, but still relapse when I push my recovery too fast.

As for a praise I can share, I'm very excited to get to go home for Christmas.  Chris has an extended break, so we will finally get to go to Arkansas and see family again. I will stay in my childhood home and reconnect with family and old friends. I'm so excited to have a real Christmas this year, as last Christmas was by far the worse one I have ever experienced - stuck in Grenada without any Christmas decorations, tree, or hope.  I did have one bright moment when Chris and I went out Christmas Day and gave chocolate chip cookies I baked to the people in the poor communities. I wrapped the cookies and attached home-made tracks on note cards I wrote by hand with the radio station business cards.  The people really appreciated the gesture, and giving back was the only time I really felt any real Christmas spirit. If the Cookie Christmas hadn't happened, our last holiday would have been a total disaster. This next Christmas promises to be quite an improvement.

So, keep the prayers coming my friends.  While it may seem like I'm living the easy life in paradise, I can safely say this has been the hardest year I have ever experienced. With no demanding job, goals, or hobbies to distract me, I have had to face myself in a very uncertain future with no back-up plan. It has stretched my faith to the final threads and held me in survival mode minutes from total despair. I hope by Christmas to be able to reveal one of the biggest weights our family has had to carry. I say this in faith that God will come through so I can share the testimony of what He has done. But, that's why I can relate to those survivors. God has been there every step of the way. And, His power is the most real when you are on your last breath. By His grace, I am still surviving, and the promised rescue has come. 

In a Ticky Situation

It's 11 p.m., the house is dark except for the soft light of the flashlight streaming from the bike helmet on top of my head.  I bend over a panting ball of fur, searching... covered in soft fluff and small amounts of blood stuck to my sweaty skin.  There is no AC in the house, and a fan would make my work harder despite the steamy jungle night.  Mosquitos, attracted to my headlamp, my sweat, and the CO2 emitting from the breath of both me and my protesting prisoner swarm around us.  I put down the bloody tweezers to slam a mosquito to the earth, wondering as I hold the trembling little fuzz ball if it's worth losing one less tormentor in return for scaring my subject to death.  I'm tired, my back and neck are screaming from leaning over the bodies of three dogs for hours with a heavy helmet on my head searching for something so small, yet so dangerous to my peace of mind.

 
We had a terrible infestation of dog ticks.  Sadly, it's the one species of tick that can complete an entire life cycle inside our home. It was my own fault.  With everything going on that I couldn't control, I chose for months to worry about outside events instead of focusing on keeping things I could impact in line.  We've never had to worry about ticks before.  Our dogs don't go into fields or woods and, with the large amount of dangerous dog packs roaming our area, they really only go outside to relieve themselves. With such a limited outdoor experience, I never even thought to check them.

Then, one day, my husband jumped back from his computer where he was studying at his desk.  A huge bloated female tick had been crawling on the ceiling, lost her footing, and fallen right onto his keyboard.  Sadly, it took this to get our attention.  I had also noticed some small beetle-looking creatures on our ceiling.  They didn't move around, and since our entire house is open with slats and no screens, and keeping bugs away is a pointless pursuit, I decided to just let them be as I was too lazy to get a chair and get high enough to investigate. But, with the realization that literally fell into our lap, I decided to research this enemy a bit more.

Dog ticks have several life cycles.  First, they hatch out of eggs as larva.  They then seek their first blood meal, then molt into tiny nymphs.  These nymphs, having only six legs, again torment an unlucky victim and drink their fill of bodily fluids. They then crawl up high and molt into full-sized, eight-legged adults.  It turns out, those "beetles" were simply the ticks going through the final molt from nymph into adults.  The adults then find a host one more time and find a mate. They both attach and feed and breed at the same time lodged into the skin of the poor animal. The female, swollen with blood and eggs to 200 times her original size, then drops off to lay up to 3,000 eggs which start the madness all over again. Honestly, I can't understand what purpose they serve in this world other than to make our lives miserable. I've heard guinea fowl like to eat them.  I was tempted to get a flock.

Getting rid of the blood-sucking, disease-carrying pests was challenging.  We immediately took our dogs to the vet and got sprays and the Frontline medication to put onto their back to turn their blood to poison.  When both of those didn't work, we bought tick shampoo, which only resulted in very clean dogs carrying very clean ticks.  Nothing worked.  To make matters worse, the ticks like to lay eggs in soft bedding.  So, the dog beds had to be washed many times. Our bed and sheets needed to be checked nightly, and sometimes they still were biting us by morning. One night, we even tore apart our entire bed looking for the invaders between the mattress and under the bed frame. They invaded our laundry hamper, laid eggs, and were crawling all over our clothes. Grenadians also don't bring dogs inside, so treating the yard to kill ticks is a waste of money for them.  We could find nothing on the island.  Also, the other lovely medications used back home are not available here. We used all our resources, and the ticks just sat up, clapped their hands, and smiled at our efforts.

So, this left me with only one option - squishing every tick until they were all gone.  This resulted in tick checks on us and the dogs twice per day.  I also routinely patrolled the house, looking on the walls, the baseboards, the ceilings, the floor.  Ticks like to climb up in areas where they know there is a lot of traffic and will stand up and hold their front legs out like little children wanting to be picked up until their host comes along.  Scientists call this behavior questing. There is a spot where Soren, our German Shepherd, likes to rub his body against the wall, probably due to his many itchy tick bites.  The ticks seem to be able to sense this is the best spot to quest and will congregate there, waving their front legs, waiting for Soren to come by.  One of Soren's many nick names is Mr. Chew - taken from his early puppyhood where, you guessed it, he chewed everything.  But, we then modified it to Choo Choo Train, as he was always bowling through everything like a steam engine. So, now due to its popularity, we named this certain wall section the train station with the high supply of ticks clinging there with their front legs outstretched like hippies waiting for the space ship to another galaxy. We joke that the ticks are waiting for the Choo Choo train at the train station.  Well, I would try to get there first and send them on the Glory Train instead.  (You HAVE to have humor in this or you just sit in a pool of tears and cry like in the Looney Tunes cartoons.)

This infestation has also meant that I spent lots of time on my knees with a flashlight going through all the huge cracks in our bedroom, getting out the ticks hiding there and making sure no bloated females had dropped off to lay eggs.  My theory was that if I continued to kill every tick I saw, and kept taking them off the dogs so they couldn't breed and complete their cycle, eventually the madness would stop.  Over five months of doing this, it slowly began to  work.  Where I was once killing 400 ticks daily, after two months it was down to around 30 per dog.  After two more months it was down to around 10 for the entire pack, and now I will maybe find 3 ticks every other day for the total quota. I know I'm winning... just slowly. This gives a whole new meaning to the saying, "An ounce of prevention..."

 
Now, I believe that every crisis in your life gives you an opportunity to learn something useful.  God teaches us in everyday living, just like Jesus did when he walked this earth and told parables about gardening, fishing, shepherds, and sowers. To be clear, this is the most minor crisis compared to others we are currently facing, and even more minuscule compared to what others have gone through. But, it's one that God has used to teach me, nonetheless.  He thrives on communicating in the simple stuff, and has used ticks to teach me about redemption.

Looking for something as tiny as ticks gives me lots of quiet time on my knees. I must be a sight running around the house with my bike helmet on my head where I have taped a flashlight, holding my iPhone flashlight in my hand, crawling around with bloody tweezers. It's a great time to talk to God and argue about the relevance of ticks and ask if He could please just make all of them extinct. Of course, I then also turn to more important conversations about weightier spiritual matters since I'm down there anyway. 

These nasty cousins of spiders love darkness and secrecy. I have to move furniture and clean everywhere to find their hiding places and eggs.  Cleaning out all the hidden areas of our home that no one sees reminds me of the cleansing process God does on my heart.  No one else sees my heart's dirty corners under the bed, but God does.  He knows that those areas are the prefect place for sin to grow. Moving the bed and cleaning up those spots isn't easy, but needed to protect me. The same idea can be said about the ticks themselves. Unless you get close to the dog, move the hair around, put your fingers to their skin, pull them close and feel them, you would never know the tick is there, growing in the darkness under their fur. Just like without God's healing touch, there is no relief from the sin in our lives. Ticks and sin have a lot in common. 

Also, in studying my nemesis the tick, I have learned a lot about my enemy. I now know where they hang out, like the train station, and can get there and remove them before the dogs walk into their waiting little spindly arms. Sometimes, I call my dogs away from a spot that I haven't gotten to yet to clear out.  If they obey me, they save themselves the pain of the tick removal later.  If they don't, the tick count I pull from their bodies, and proportionally their discomfort, only grows. In the same way, God may call me away from an area I am moving towards.  He knows my weaknesses and wants to protect me from an enemy that I don't understand, but He does. How many times I could have spared myself so many consequences if I had just moved away from a direction when I heard Him call me? Yet, even when I don't, He still helps disentangle me from my messy situation after the enemy has latched on when I finally do come back to Him and seek His help. 

This tick infestation has really helped me bond with my dogs as well. I spend a lot more time with them removing the little parasites every day. It's not a pleasant process for either of us. Sitting on the floor with no AC in a pool of my own sweat, dog hair sticking to me, blood from smushed ticks covering my hands, with crimson tweezers, leaning over protesting pooches with my equally protesting back and neck joining in is not my idea of fun. The ticks especially love the most sensitive areas on dogs - the ears and in between their toes and paw pads. Sometimes I find forests of ticks deep in their ears or toes. The ears are the worst, as when many ticks are taken out there is a lot of bleeding due to the tick's special blood-thinning saliva, but thankfully not much pain on the dog's part. When the blood runs down the dog's ear it irritates them and they shake their heads, sending a shower of blood flying. Many times when I'm done, I look like I've just been through a massacre. Just like during the Old Testament times, when sin was committed, something had to die and blood had to flow to redeem the sinner.  Now, to save my dogs, something has to die too. Unfortunately for me, something containing a lot of blood.  Anyone who as flattened a bloated tick knows what kind of eruption can take place. Thankfully, ticks aren't very cute like wooly lambs, so I have no trouble killing them.

This process of removing the ticks from my dogs has taken our relationship to a whole new level, but no more so than with my youngest dog. Soren is my boisterous three-year old 75-pound German Shepherd.  He is as strong willed and hard headed as they come - takes after me a bit. He has a low pain tolerance, punishment doesn't phase him, and high drive in every area of his personality. He constantly argues with me, barks at me when I tell him "No!" and challenges my position as the higher-ranking member of the house. He has yet to win any of these debates, but the hope of one day besting me still springs eternal.  

Soren's tick checks have been an evolving process.  First, it must be known that he has very sensitive paws and ears - apparently the only chinks in his armor.  Though I tried to desensitizes his paws from puppyhood by handling them, he hates his nails trimmed and ticks pulled from his feet.  In the beginning, I couldn't get rid of the ticks on his paws alone. I needed my husband to provide backup and hold him down while I tried to pull apart his writhing toes on his thrashing legs and snatch the ticks out with tweezers.  The build up to the actual removal caused moaning and yowling from him as if I were slowly burning him alive. He fought to get up, he pulled his feet away from me, he moved along the emotional spectrum of getting angry and growling to whining and begging for mercy. Finally, in pure exhaustion, after fighting for almost an hour, he would let us get the tick, which took less than 10 seconds once he decided to hold still and certainly wasn't worth any of the drama. 

However, soon, it was very inconvenient for me to enlist my husband's help as he was gone all day in school.  So, I decided to tackle Soren's ticky paws myself. It was me vs. the Chewminator (another of his nick names), and all I had was a leather leash, tweezers, and determination. That first time took several hours. However, I tried to learn what would make the process easier for him.  I noticed he hated the tweezers as his thrashing had caused them to poke him more than once. So, I put down the tweezers and used the one's God had given me - my nails. I started by slowly talking to him and massaging his feet instead of going right for the tick.  This caused him to calm down enough for me to at least hold his feet - the very act of which had always started the cascade of panic. Then, I got him used to me looking for ticks without pulling them.  Finally, I went for the tick. It was still hard and he moaned and cried through the entire process anticipating each tick pull, but I finally removed all of the little pests. 

There were a few days Soren decided he would stand for this no more and growled and got up.  I used the leash to persuade him to lay back down.  He then proceeded to growl and bark right in my face, letting me know how life was just rotten and I was now enemy number one. I didn't get angry, just calmly stared him down, trying my best Cesar Milan impression until he finally collapsed into a huge pout - head turned as far away from me as possible - and let me finish his feet in stony silence. 

Now, the funny thing is, pulling ticks from between your toes isn't really that painful.  I know. They've chosen that lovely place to latch on to me as well, though thankfully they seem to prefer the dogs more. But, whether the process is actually painful or not doesn't matter. What matters is what Soren THINKS.  Perception is reality. And, in his mind, this is the most painful process on earth and the fact that I torture him with it daily must prove that I don't love him anymore. 

However, as the days of this have turned into weeks, he has surrendered more and more.  A month ago, I could pull the ticks from his paws with just a slight whine and foot jerk. I didn't have to hold him down anymore.  He would wait until I gave him a release word before he got up. Instead of a time to fight, it started to be a time he tolerated quite well, and actually enjoyed when I cuddled him afterwards. 

Then, a few weeks ago, it happened.  I got the tweezers, flashlight, and paper towel I use to squish them on.  He knew what it meant, and he came to me.  I didn't go for the leash, but instead just asked him to lay down.  He did, of his own free will. What a feeling of pride I had for my baby boy! I praised him, did his tick check, got the ticks out of his paws without even a whine from him, and then brushed and cuddled him. God whispered to me, "Now you know what it feels like when you stop fighting Me. Once you realize I'm helping you, not hurting you, and you decide My way is best no matter how uncomfortable it may feel at the time, and you surrender... there is no greater love or worship you can give Me." 

Next, there is my dear Keesha, the 35-pound fluffy Keeshond.  Full of vibrant life and laughs, but also as flighty as a parakeet, our middle child seemed to tolerate being snuggled in my lap while I checked her for ticks.  I had to go to her and pick her up. She didn't willingly come. But, once she was in my arms she went limp.  She's learned to do this from puppyhood, as she's so cuddly she gave up having any dignity long ago.  She knows her role as Teddy Bear and surrogate child for me. She will even put her paw around my shoulder and hug me as I hold her.  Tick checks are an easy process.  I simply roll her on her back, on her side, on her tummy, pick up her feet, pull back her ears, and put my hands deep in her fur and feel for ticks.  I've gotten pretty good at feeling the difference between skin, tick bite, and tick. She closes her eyes while I do this, only sighing occasionally if I pull a particularly tough tick from her ear or paw.  Her tick checks are not a strain on our relationship, because she surrenders to me immediately once I chase her down.  After I'm done, I always give her cuddles and kisses and tell her she's been a good girl. However, she's small enough that she really doesn't have free will in the situation.  I can easily hold her down and she knows it.  Her surrender, while appreciated, isn't as special to me as Soren's.  She has never believed she has a choice or free will. I understand a little better why God felt free will was so important.  Surrender isn't really surrender if the participant doesn't believe there is any other choice. True love and surrender can never be forced. I know Keesha would never choose to do this if she felt she did have another option. 

Mona, the oldest of our three, has worked with me a long time.  She's a strong American Staffordshire Terrier, or pit bull if you want the slang term. We have taken our relationship of trust through obedience training, therapy dog training, and (DSR) disaster stress relief training, which is the highest level of therapy work enabling dogs to be sent by FEMA to disaster sites. She's trusted me around helicopters, horses, boats, hospitals, and high see-through bridges, so picking ticks is a cake walk. I don't need a leash or any other restraint.  I ask her to lay down beside me and she comes to me happily and does so very willingly. Even though she could fight back, she never even considers it, but just allows me to pull ticks from any part of her body without any control needed. She enjoys leaning against me and hearing me speak happily to her, even though we are not doing something particularly pleasant. She does this because she has trusted me through so much worse, and sees this surrender as an easy process. Mona is like the Apostle Paul of trust and surrender.  I don't have to go get her like Keesha, and I have never had to restrain her and persistently work with her to prove I am worthy of her trust like Soren, she comes to me when I call her to get clean. Why? Because of all my dogs, she knows me the best. I earned her trust long ago.

 
There is also another concept I've learned from this.  Because we were unaware of the ticks for so long, they really infested our bedroom, where the dogs spend a lot of their time. Unfortunately, there are more cracks in the floor boards than any other room in our rental unit. Ticks get deep into the cracks of the floor and back behind the walls, where even fogs and sprays can't reach.  Read any website on dog ticks: bad infestations usually require a professional pest control guy to come back about four or more times before they are gone. Because the ticks are most infested in our room, I have made the dogs sleep in the living room with tile floors to protect them. They don't understand why I would pull away from them like this.  In their mind, being banished from the bedroom is punishment, but in mine it's protection. There is no way I can convey to them that I still love them just as much, but I have to distance myself for a time while I go around on the bedroom floor every night on my hands and knees with a flashlight and kill all the ticks which surface to jump on my dogs. I put my bare feet on the cracks, enticing them to come and and crawl on me. I'm the bait.  I hate pulling ticks off my dogs because it's an uncomfortable process for them, and it's my goal to get the pests before they bite them.  If they bite me first, that's something I'm willing to endure to protect them. 

 
While I was thinking about their canine perspective as I heard them whining outside the door, God also reminded me of times when I have felt that He was distant from me.  There were times when I truly believed He had forgotten me and pulled away.  While I may not be able to understand why anymore than my dogs understand my nightly separation from them, I now know the intent behind His absence is the same as the intent behind mine. He knows what's best and loves me enough to do the hard thing even if it's uncomfortable for both of us.  

So don't laugh my friends.  I may see sin illustrations in tick eradication and Divine  relationship parallels with my fur kids, but this is how my mind works and how God gets my attention. Thankfully, God knows me pretty well and speaks to me right where I am, no matter how strange the situation. 

You see, the bigger faith test I am under parallels a lot with how I imagine my poor dogs feel about the ticks.  I've had feelings that God doesn't love me, that He's punishing me unendingly, that He's teasing me with dreams that can never be realized, that He's pulling away from me. This goes against everything I know about God's character, yet the abandonment emotions of feeling unloved and rejected still surface.  But, God has shown me things are not as I perceive them. He loves me so much more than I love my pets.  He hurts so much more than I do when I see their pain as I pull a tick from a sensitive area. He got so much more bloody, sweaty, and dirty working to save me than I do when I work to help them. And, though He may pull away sometimes, He isn't doing it to reject me, but to get down on His hands and knees with a flashlight behind the closed bedroom door I can't see past to fight to protect me and remove dangers that I don't even comprehend. I don't know how it all works, and I don't believe I will until I see His face.  But, I'm a step closer to understanding His heart. Just like Soren, I've gone from fighting Him, to laying down beside Him with no restraint, just quiet surrender. While surrender doesn't guarantee comfort, it does refine character, increase trust, and give peace. 

As I'm writing this, our ticky situation is almost over.  My months of persistence have paid off. Without sprays, chemicals, foggers, or poisons, I've removed thousands of ticks from our home with just tweezers and determination. The train station is now empty; the dogs rarely have more than one or two ticks per check; and I haven't felt the little legs crawling up my arm in the darkness as I'm trying to go to sleep for at least three months now. My husband has taken to calling me his lovely guinea girl, in reference to my desire to get some guinea fowl when this whole thing first started, then resigning myself to the fact that I would have to do the job of the flock. Past the teasing, I think he appreciates me a bit more. Also, my dogs trust me at a whole new level. And, most importantly, I understand God's heart a little more clearly.  While I never want to be in a ticky situation again, I have tried not to pass up the wisdom in the journey back to normalcy, or to see the good that has come from the struggle. May we always go to God willingly to get cleaned up, no matter how uncomfortable the process. May we never let sin grow in darkness. And, may we always remember, God loves us even when we don't always feel it. 

Oh, and the guinea girl has learned not let down her guard again. So just try to come back ticks! You won't last...
 
"But now thus says the Lord, he who created you, O Jacob, he who formed you, O Israel: “Fear not, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by name, you are mine. When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and through the rivers, they shall not overwhelm you; when you walk through fire you shall not be burned, and the flame shall not consume you." Isaiah 43:1-2

Freedom To Be Still

While my friends and family back home celebrate this momentous day of freedom with outdoor grilling and swimming pools, life in Grenada carries on with no noticeable nod to this fourth day of July. But, while America celebrates her own birthday, I am celebrating my own kind of freedom. It may not seem like much, but it's everything to me; the freedom to stop and be still.

 When I was a kid, being still was as easy as "an RC cola and a moon pie," as they say in the South. I was an only child with very limited TV access, so learning to entertain myself was essential. I would watch the clouds roll by on my favorite grassy knoll while having conversations with God. I would read a good book cuddled up with the barn cats in the hay or snuggled high in my favorite tree, watching the leaf shadows caress my pages with the wind's gentlest touch. I caught butterflies and fireflies, picked wildflowers for my mother's bedside table, and gloried in creation's beauty - spiritually walking hand in hand with the Creator. I would sit on my wooden fence overlooking the lake and welcome my good friend Evening with her lightening-bug hugs of cushy twilight. I would watch the snow fall while pretending to do my homework sprawled on the smoky cedar-smelling rug by the crackling fire. I knew full well that a snow day was coming and if my homework was done early it would be an uninterrupted day of snow angels and snowmen, hunting animal tracks through the marshmallow woods, sledding on icy back-country roads, and watching the fire flames dance with hot cocoa in my hands to warm up again. While looking back on the enchantment of childhood can seem more nostalgic than it really was; ask anyone who knew me - I knew how to be still.

 But I grew up in one day when I was 14. As the Christmas carols rang through so many hearts, mine was broken with the news my best friend, my mom, had cancer. Thirteen months later, we were opening the cold earth to receive her casket.

Suddenly, I hated still. I hated having any time to remember the memories of her last months of chemo and radiation, her last weeks on a respirator, her last words fighting through the coma drugs to tell me she loved me. I didn't want to have time to think. So, I embraced my new friend, Busyness.

With Busyness, I could do a lot of great activities that would wear me out so that when I was forced to be still in my bed, pure exhaustion-induced sleep would come. It also had the great side effect of making everyone comment on how much I was holding it together, how strong I was. I was numb, so not crying at Mom's funeral and singing a solo in her honor were doable. I liked being perceived as strong. I liked making straight As in school. I loved running and turned to this with animalistic fever - feeling the endorphin rush and a glimpse of what happiness felt like again, even if only for a moment.

 Then there were the nights when even though I was exhausted, the mafia trio came for me.  They were three brothers: Pain, Depression, and Loneliness. They beat my heart into a bloody pulp, telling me of my failures as a daughter, as a follower of God, as a person.  I would retreat from my bed and seek solace on the same grassy hill where I used to watch the clouds and talk winsomely to God. I would bravely try to watch the stars, but I always ended up in a sobbing fetal position, crying so hard I thought I would vomit my insides out - and hoped I would.

 People sometimes ask me why I believe in God. I can give them the philosophical answers on morality's origin. I can give them the scientific facts debated by the MDs and PHDs of humanity's beginnings and science's wonders. I can give them the historical evidence of the miracle of the Bible and prophecy. I can give them the love story of Jesus. And, I often do, because the real reason is too experiential for most to accept. The fact is, if you weren't with me, inside my head, seeing what I've seen, you would simply think me out of my mind. I have had many more mind-twisting miracles and experiences with God during our friendship, but the first, simplest, and most earth-shattering for me is how He saved me.

 When my mom died, I really wanted to die too. The pain hurt too much. I lost my dad to his own grief and subsequent remarriage and felt completely alone. I thought about killing myself, but I knew I would have to face God someday and explain why I gave up the gift of life He entrusted to me. So, instead I just hoped I could cry myself to death; then it wouldn't really be my fault. That first night, in the inky blackness on my grassy knoll, as sobs exploded through my body and I lost my ability to even breathe, I felt warm strong arms encircle me.  It was so real that it caused me to look behind to see who was there. When I realized a physical person wasn't there, I relaxed deep into the embrace - I knew Who it was. The peace and warmth that flooded my heart could not have come from the ragged life that was left in me. Only One greater than me could quiet me in such a way with such a love. Many nights afterward, this was how I met God. I would cry, and He would hold me. Every time, like the troubled stormy seas, I experienced, "Peace, be still."

 I still came to God for peace throughout my life, but the coping mechanism of Busyness was there too. Through high school, college, and marriage, God would always meet my restless heart with stillness when I came to Him.  I just stopped having time to do it as much as before. Busyness and I were still tight, and I had picked up a new friend, Security, along the way. Security was something I manufactured so I wouldn't have to need anyone else. He brought along a stone heart to replace my broken one. This one didn't feel, and it was a welcome relief to go numb.  I learned that if I walled people out, they couldn't hurt me. Security was manifested in martial art classes, shooting practice, athletics to become strong, free climbing at heights that would have killed me had I fallen to show I wasn't afraid, cliff jumping, jogging at 2 a.m. through the streets of my college town daring a predator to just try to take a piece of me, and working three jobs simultaneously in college to prove I could make it in this world - no help required thank you very much!

 Beginning married life way below the poverty line, I decided in our single-wide trailer surrounded by unpaid utility bills and an empty food pantry that I would never be in a position to not pay my own way. In a classic dramatic Scarlet O'Hara "never-be-hungry-again" moment, I wanted financial Security and I pursued him with gusto. Soon, people noticed, as I still had Busyness along who was highly valued.  I was promoted from a temp job to a territory sales manager in a global blue-chip corporation, selling multibillion dollar brands from two different global-market-leading companies to white coat professionals with the first name of doctor. As my demanding job ate away my life and health, I gave less time to seeking stillness with God, but ironically, more time to His work.  In my free time, I sang in the praise band, did outreach projects, fed the homeless, went to group Bible studies, had one-on-one home Bible studies, picked weeds at a church work day, mowed people's lawns for free, volunteered my vacation days to visit sick children twice a month with our therapy dog at All Children's Hospital, put on church drama productions, sat in on church committee meetings, became a disaster-relief volunteer, visited the victims in the aftermath of the Alabama tornadoes with my therapy dog, helped with health clinics and vegetarian food education. I was even training for triathlons and road races in my spare time.

 I had everything, Security in a lucrative job, Security in a beautiful house on a golf course in Florida complete with hot tub, fire pit, and rose bush, Security in my health and athletic strength, and Busyness in Christian activities and employment to make sure I went to bed good and tired before the brothers could keep me up with beatings. The fact that there was no time for my relationship with God or my husband didn't seem to concern me outwardly, but inside I was dying slowly. The mafia gang was back, and happiness seemed as elusive as the freedom to be still.

 I was close to breaking, and the final few straws that fell were enough to finish the job. Some I can talk about, the most painful I can't, but suffice it to say multiple outside forces hit my inward storm and my facade of having it all together crumbled. I was standing alone in my perfect life with my perfect things in my perfect house, and I was that little lonely girl on the grassy knoll all over again. But, this time I had strayed so far from God in my heart, I didn't feel His arms anymore because I was too ashamed to run to Him. I broke down and gave up in an exhausted mess. Depression closed in around me, blocking out all sunshine. I clung to a denial of how messed up I really was until I was past the point of seeing hope. The rivers had turned to stormy seas, and those seas now burst through my lying inner voice that I really was keeping it all together to end in a tsunami of complete devastation.

 So, I finally gave up. God had my attention. I admitted my attempt at this life was a horrible failure and asked if He had any ideas. He did.  "Go and sell all that you have, and follow Me."

"Um God, do You know how long I've worked to get where I am? How much I've sacrificed? How blessed I am to have this career? How can you ask me to do something so drastic? You are asking me to leave Security behind!"

The answer was the same, strong as granite.

 So, the whirlwind began all over again. First, I fasted for days, trying to make sure I had heard Him correctly. I even asked for a very specific "Gideon's fleece" set of circumstances, which He kindly provided as my faith was much too weak to simply trust His first answer. The battle between really giving everything up and holding onto the only life I knew raged within me. Then, the cascade of tasks began: the financial whirlwind of a short sale, as our house had lost half its value in the seven years we had owned it; leaving the security of my job and saying goodbye to the friends I had made; the huge task of selling all our possessions except for a line of boxes we sent to my kind mother-in-law at the end because I just couldn't go through any more stuff; canceling all our financial commitments and paying penalties where we couldn't break clean; figuring out logistics of bringing our dogs into the foreign country where my husband was attending school, which had caused us to be separated for the past year. I often retreated from these terrifying tasks into depression, procrastinating the final acts of giving the life I enjoyed a love-hate relationship with up.  But in the end, God worked everything out despite my unwillingness.  He even gave me angels in my friends who came at the last minute to help me get packed and provided for my transportation needs after I sold our car.

So, like Jonah covered in whale vomit, I went to my assignment. My face hard as steel, ready to jump into the next big thing God had planned for me. Busyness bought a ticket too, and sat with me on the plane to a tiny tropical island I had hardly even heard of, let alone visited. I said goodbye to Security at the airport, and left him in Florida.

 Just as a dazed passenger staggers out of the debris of a plane crash, still trying to gain footing after suddenly ending the experience of traveling the speed of sound, I joined my husband, from whom I had been separated a year physically and many more emotionally, in a new country.  Busyness immediately pulled me into triathlon training, the new social scene, and ministry work. I started filling up my days with creating new relationships and training for my next goal: a full Ironman race.

God kept asking me to be still, but I didn't want to look into the still water and see who I had become. I was honestly afraid of what I would find. There was a lot of healing I needed to do, but I didn't want to face it yet. God was patient as I scurried around exploring my new surroundings, cliff jumping, participating in church dramas, learning my new work at the radio station, playing with sea turtles, snorkeling in the crystal waters, running up volcanic jungle mountains with my triathlon team, biking on busy pot-holed streets at night in darkness where He needed to intervene more than once to save my life, sunset endurance open-water swims with my fellow athletes, visiting orphanages, helping pregnant teens, Bible studies, preaching to student groups, putting on raw food health seminars, praying with students during exam week, playing volleyball, meeting friends for beach runs, cleaning up mission homes, going to big tent crusades, passing out home-made cookies during Christmas to children in poor neighborhoods, hosting dinners and parties for friends...

"I don't want to surrender Busyness.  I don't want to be still, not yet..."
 

 However, the slow island pace has finally forced me to allow all the junk to come up, as much as I've tried to fight it off. After leaving Security, my stone heart, which had already started to crack much earlier after claiming the Ezekiel 36:26 promise, finally was replaced with the heart of flesh. I have decided it was far better to feel pain than nothing. I also have grown tired of Busyness the more time I spend in God's sweet presence. While I can't promise that he will leave me entirely, he no longer is the crutch I use to avoid the silence. Within the stillness, I hear God's voice more clearly.

When I was ready, God helped me cut some additional areas out of my life where I wasn't fully surrendered to His will, turning my back on them hopefully forever. I started to long for the still moments of my childhood. My husband and I faced challenges in rebuilding our marriage after years of neglect. We faced many outside pressures as well. We went through crashes and subsequent miracles to get us out of our worst-case-scenario nightmares. I hope shortly to touch on what God has done here, but the final pieces still remain just out of reach to conclude that part of our testimony.

 Through it all, I have learned a valuable lesson. While Busyness and Security certainly aren't to be demonized as they have their place, when they become the gods we worship, happiness and freedom will never be found. If you think about it, most horrible things in the world are done by unhappy, trapped people. It shapes the world because it shapes each person. You are the product of your deepest heart-stopping experiences. Those that shape you most are comprised of the actions of people who either hurt you deeply or the actions of the people who love you unconditionally. It just stands to reason that if I can allow the change of one unhappy heart - my own - into a heart full of God's love, I stand the chance of shaping other lives for good and being a still pool reflecting God's image to the world. The other side of the coin is that if I'm unhappy in life, I will leave a wake of pain and tsunami destruction stamped upon the hearts of others who are unlucky enough to be swept away in my path. While God was very appreciative of all my good works I was doing for Him, He really wanted me to stop and just focus on two simple, yet much more difficult, tasks: 1) healing my heart through a passionate pursuit of Him, and 2) healing my marriage through a passion pursuit of my husband. Both required a lot more pride swallowing than I felt ready for, but God has been faithful to make up the difference where I fall short.

 One of my favorite freedom stories from scripture is in Exodus, when the Israelite people were freed from the oppression of Egypt by God's miracles. Just when they thought all the fighting and pain was over, they were trapped between the Red Sea and an approaching murderous horde of Egyptian warriors. I'm sure the people were running around fanatically, uselessly, in a state of pure panic. They felt trapped with no way out. Though I tried desperately to avoid it with Security, I found myself just as trapped. Moses' response sounds laughable under the circumstances, "Don't be afraid.  Stand still, and see the salvation of the Lord."

Stand still? When you have maybe minutes to live before a sword cuts through your throat? Stand still? When you are between a chariot army and the Red Sea? Stand still? Are you crazy? It goes against everything in our nature. But, we finally stop the pointless panic and do it.

Then God shows up. He creates a fiery pillar between the Egyptians and His people to stop the armies in their tracks and He parts the waters of the Red Sea. He opens the way before them to freedom and protects them from behind with fire, and all He asks is that we stop being afraid and just stand still. Just stop... and trust.

 So, today I'm celebrating a different type of freedom - freedom from the tsunami of Security, Busyness, Depression, Loneliness, and Pain, and the freedom to "Be still, and know that I am God." You see, not only does a still pool reflect my own image so I'm forced to introspective inward study, and not only does it reflect God's image as a witness to others, it also allows Him to move in His timing.

Try casting a stone into a moving river. The ripples are immediately consumed among the current. While a moving river has its place and certainly gets much accomplished, it's hard to tell who is doing the accomplishing - me or God. But, if my heart is a still pool before Him, He can cast a stone into the water, and the ripples reach every boundary of my soul. There is no doubt as to the Author of those waves. Even the smallest stone, the smallest whisper of His breath upon the waters, can stir within me actions that will impact the world in ways I can't even begin to imagine. He can't completely work His full purpose in my life, until I am still in my heart.

Here's a video of a play my husband and I did with friends for a benefit concert when I first got here.  This play represents my life in so many ways - rushing after the wind until I come to the point where life is something to escape, not celebrate, and then realize that the best place in the world is in the arms of Jesus, right where I used to be ... Maybe it's your story too?  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1hHXzfxEpaU

 Enjoy the fireworks all my dear American friends and family. Tonight, I plan to celebrate my new-found freedom in a more personal way. I will always be grateful for the freedom brought to me by the sacrifice of many brave servicemen and women. I will always honor that sacrifice. More personally, the wounded involved in my past rebellion unfortunately don't just include my own broken heart, but others I have broken in my own unhappiness. I will have to leave their healing to God, as I have done all I can to seek forgiveness for my part of the pain. The ghosts of the past and the soul-crushing guilt for things I have long ago confessed stir up the rivers again, but I won't go back there anymore. I'm healing now. For me, as great as the American freedom story is, my own story resonates more intimately within my now softened heart, as far deeper freedom has been found in the stillness of God's presence. I will find it tonight among the singing melody of the tree frogs under the palm-framed full moon in the quiet of this night of celebration. When the storms come, I now know what to do.  I cry to my Father for help from my tiny boat, and He smiles lovingly and tells the waves one more time in a whisper more powerful than any warrior's battle cry, "Peace, be still."

Grass Is Always Greener...

It's been said by those wiser than me, "If the grass looks greener on the other side, it's time you spent more effort tending to your own lawn." Isn't that just like human nature? Someone is always prettier, smarter, younger, hotter, more athletic, has a better career, nicer house and car, easier life... We love to run around and play the comparison game, but we never see the problem being caused by us - but by others getting a better deal at the card table of life. It's easier that way.  We just look at another lawn and long for it instead of working to make our own lawn the garden of our dreams.

One of the toughest verses for me to follow in the Bible is found in Hebrews 13:5, "Let your conduct be without covetousness; be content with such things as you have. For He Himself has said, “I will never leave you nor forsake you.”  This verse, when broken up into two sections, gives a command for us to follow and a promise for God to follow through on.

Both the command and promise are hard for me. I can never seem to live in the present.  I'm haunted by my past and worried for my future.  Living this way means lots of sleepless nights (like tonight for example), allowing the "what ifs" and "whys" to dance around in my head. It means finding tears slipping down my cheek and wetting my pillow that I didn't even know I cried because I felt too numb. It certainly doesn't bring happiness and isn't God's plan for me, yet it seems to be my default.  How I wish I could slip into the waters of His love and simply float in the moment, drink in every morsel of the magic that surrounds me and wish for nothing more! Being truly content means trusting both the past and future to God. It's just a lot harder in principle than in simple platitudes.

I had hoped to share a miracle of God's leading.  I actually have quite the story to tell, and I hope to share a happy ending, but I don't want to share it until all pieces are in place.  But, what I thought I would know weeks ago still eludes me.  God seems to feel the need to further refine me, asking me to learn to trust Him with huge life events where the answers just won't come without waiting.

He has also felt the need to further purge me of areas in my life where I follow His commands to the letter, but not with my entire heart.  God doesn't want grudging obedience, He wants my heart desiring the same thing His does. I may obey Him, but if I'm not content in that decision, it's not really surrender. I've had to break some painful habits that were doing nothing but holding me back from healing.  It helped for me to see that much of what I thought was green grass was simply a mirage. Sadly, it took that realization for me to finally give up my rebellion.  I wish I could have fully surrendered when I thought I was still giving up Eden. That would have been real faith!

Believing God's promises is sometimes a struggle as well. He has never failed me, yet each time He asks for more belief, I find it so hard to give it.  I guess it's because I've had a lot of people I loved deeply promise me important life-changing commitments, then not keep them.  Unfortunately, God gets my baggage from my experience with imperfect people.  I'm not innocent either.  I've broken my share of promises too. But, God promises He will never leave me, that He will always love me.  Having always struggled with feeling completely loved by people in my life, this is the hardest thing for me to accept. I may acknowledge it in my head, but my heart still secretly questions. I wish I could learn to trust with the child-like faith I used to have; the kind of faith that hasn't known heartbreak, pain, or death. Getting back to that faith through the valley of darkness is the ultimate goal.

Thankfully, through it all, God continues in a patient relationship of love with His stumbling child. He gives me small signs and victories when I ask Him, and encourages me daily in His word.  Hanging in suspension with game-changing decisions out of my control has given me a new appreciation for being content in all circumstances.  The longer I stay here, the more normal the abnormal tightrope walk becomes.  Security, which used to be the god I worshiped, no longer matters as I've lived without the luxury for so long I've forgotten what it felt like it.  In place of security, I have found freedom.

Even though each day of this unknown walk is a struggle, I am grateful for the journey. The spotlight illuminates my relationship with God, forcing me to face the stark reality of me.  All else is darkness.  I see the flaws in my own character all the clearer for the adventure.  I used to think I trusted God completely.  But, I didn't realize that this was when I could still see my path in the twilight, and I was writing my own story.  Now, in the pitch blackness of uncertainty, I realize I'm not really so brave.  I don't have it all together.  And, I have to admit my faith is weak and I need His help to strengthen me to even come close to the contentment He is asking of me. I admire all the more those disciples content in jail cells, sleeping on stone for the sake of the gospel, not knowing if they would see the dawn.  What mighty faith they had! My prayer is that I can grow up enough to walk in the night without fear, content to simply hold the hand of the One who created the light... one moment, one breath, one heartbeat at a time.  By His grace, with each step I'm coming closer...

"Not that I speak in regard to need, for I have learned in whatever state I am, to be content:" Philippians 4:11

"Now godliness with contentment is great gain." 1 Timothy 6:6