Will you still love me tomorrow?

The question we simply don’t need to ask.

The question that I simply don’t need to ask again, yet have wasted too many moments wondering, is the one posed in this song by the Shirelles.  Oh and Dionne Warwick.  And maybe Amy Winehouse too.  Such a classic song!

Each time I wind up in the Emergency Room, I wonder if my beloved will still love me the next day.  This morning he referred to yesterday evening as “another date night!”  Unbelievable.  All this love continues after about 16 trips to the ER in the past 7 years.  I am humbled and blessed beyond measure.

This blessing is hard to see sometimes when my body is breaking down in a new way once again.  Looks like an ulcer in the lower part of my stomach is the reason for a month of abdominal pain.  Over-the-counter and walk-in clinic medications did not solve the problem.  So after a CT scan under the influence of anti-allergy drugs and some more potent medication, I am in less pain . . . but oh so worn out.  I’ll see a gastroenterologist this coming week with an endoscopy likely to follow.  Going to try to keep my stress level low in the meantime.  I mean I don’t have any other of the risk factors that contribute to an ulcer (e.g. spicy foods, caffeine, alcohol) unless of course there’s a hidden H. pylori infection.  So more testing is needed to figure this one out.

The other “love” that could be easy to question is that of my Heavenly Father.  But I don’t.  I look around and see tremendous blessings in my life in that I have a warm home in which to convalesce, enough food and clothing, and finances for the important stuff.  My beloved is faithful and loving like “Jesus with skin on.”  What I don’t understand is how these illnesses isolate me from friends and family outside of our home and most notably, my husband’s adult children. 

My extreme sensitivities continue and are triggered by the fragrant products they (and many folks) tend to use.  We are just not sure how to manage this reactivity with our Christmas gatherings rapidly approaching.  We already had to decline having both daughters stay with us (which was a delight to host them in years gone by).  A trial of having his oldest stay with us for about a week 2 months ago, despite extreme precautions, triggered a violent relapse in the convulsive episodes.  I am now sensitized to even trace amounts of fragrance on her coat that was kept in a suitcase in our garage in between scheduled visits.  Then I had a seizure spike 2 days ago when she returned from some travels to pick up her suitcase . . .

My heart is breaking from more than the loss of acquaintances and friendships:  my relationships with my husband’s children never really got going.  Steve and I have been married for 11 years and I got sick just 4 years into our marriage.  I have been battling a serious illness for most of our marriage!  You could say that my limited visits with his adult children gave them more time to adjust to the fact that their father is remarried.  Well, o.k. maybe that’s it.  I already sensed that I needed to lie low during their visits in the beginning anyways, focusing on serving them good food and comforts and not speaking up too much nor complaining when their Dad jumped to see them, rescue them when the trials of young adulthood came along.  No problem.  Fix the car?  Pick them up at the bus stop?  Join them at church?  I just had to stay home due to illness factors and couldn’t go with their Dad to help them, that’s all.

They don’t really know me either though.  We profess the courteous “love” greetings yet would I ever really see them again if something happened to their Dad?  Oh dear, I should not even go there.  I now realize that this barrier between us is completely out of my hands.  Remember when I sent along baked goods with Steve for when he visited his family in Arkansas without me 2 weeks ago?  Yes, I need to rest in the hope that what I could do has been done as unto the Lord.   My Jesus and my beloved know my heart.  They hold together the parts in me that are breaking and the inner tears.  And the Lord also holds me in tender moments like these right now.

I need to know that your love.  Is a love I can be sure of.  So tell me know so I won’t ask again.  Will you still love me tomorrow?

Yes, for sure.  JJ

Jeremiah, 31:3, everlasting, love, doubting, Christ's, Lord's, faithfulness,what He thinks of me, endurance, love through the trials

In a far-off land the LORD will manifest himself to them. He will say to them, ‘I have loved you with an everlasting love. That is why I have continued to be faithful to you.’

Move freely, heal well my dear

 

dancing

The importance of moving

Cannot be understated

The body not the soul,

One’s frame sans the stuff.

Blood flows, lymph drains

Breath deepens, waste can leave

If only we help it with

A little muscle contraction against gravity.

[So easy for her to say to me today!]

I cried in fear

As physical therapy began

I’d been here before

And knew about the score.

But wretched seizures

Met me by each session’s end

My body erased

The good that had ensued.

It could be different

Now that the beast is tamed

Perhaps give way to healing

And actually doing my home exercises?

Ah what a delight that will be

I do see it coming out there

Can almost reach it, so sweet

This is the beginning of healing!

Just had to mourn

Seven years lost since

The time I moved with ease

When no fear waited in every corner.

[Sigh.]

Today marked a new beginning

This time appears to be for real

Thank you my Jesus, for carrying me through

Time to give in to freedom as the healing is now here!

JJ

 

There’s no where to go but . . .

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Hubby begins his flying adventure

First on the ground then looking up

To the skies, to fly through the air

My beloved wants to be there someday.

So shall I for the depths have been too long

My darkest of nights came yesterday

Trauma that comprised abuse when

Care was needed instead, oh my!

I shall consider what to do, to pray

And listen to my man and my Lord

This just cannot go on or I will not

So all things must go up from here . . .

 

When He is All You Have

My beloved is the best . . . but he is asleep as I bemoan my sorry lot.

He holds me close . . . until I react to some scent on his manly body.

It should have a wonderful effect . . . but it does not anymore, sadly.

Such are the ravages of severe illness . . . the kind that makes everything hay-wired.

If I could explain it to you . . . then it would be from understanding myself,

And I cannot dear friend . . . so woe are my words, this night, once again.

But not forever, all night, or after a little while . . .

For He speaks into my heart song . . .

And makes all kinda nice.

My Jesus understands for he hung on a wooden cross . . .

With nails in his hands and feet, a spear thrust in his side.

I could never endure imagine that kind of pain, even if my head banged all night . . .

Let’s just say my Lord knows suffering so His tears comfort me alright.

Even if this Doc or that hath not have the medication right for me . . .

My beloved says healing will still come and my own fasting indicates so.

I shall do what I gotta do to manage this chaos . . . even if I never leave the table by the window at the café of the health food store

Because I can’t think straight and seizures are pushing up from within:  unsafe to make my way home until I stabilize.

“Cmon my Jesus, drive me home

It’s dark already and you are all that I have tonight.”

And so He did when He was all I had.

Goodnight again.

JJ

 

 

 

A Call to Grace

10 Am I now trying to win the approval of human beings, or of God? Or am I trying to please people? If I were still trying to please people, I would not be a servant of Christ.  (Gal 1)

butterfly, Galations, serve, burdens, break free, servant, let go,Christian, heart, image

From the perspective of the supernatural power of grace bestowed by my Lord, Jesus Christ, I write to you this day.  For my flesh is more broken than before, hopes beaten up from the road, and spirit exasperated from the waiting.  Yet I am compelled to look beyond my angst to the call to grace . . .

If I have fallen short of praising my Lord then I am sorry.  Please forgive me.  The alms and adoration to my Savior is what shall draw me nearer to Him and lift my sorrows.

Should I have focused too much on my own needs and not those of others then my selfishness has thus blinded me.  The trials of life have more to do with our response to these trials (and more importantly to others) than to their resolution.  I cannot serve others when my mind is full of woe.  There is always room to love on others.

When I act to make my own plate o’ food and have not called upon God’s infinite power to feed my family then I have shorted all of us to the weakness of my own hands.  My Lord is sufficient for me, enables me to serve beyond my ability.

Where my face has turned to the shiny distractions of this life, pining after them (or worse coveting that which I have been blessed) then I have really made my world smaller.  Who knows the blessing that will come from sacrificial giving?  Gratitude?  And proper placement of my gaze to the Cross?

How much better it is to wait on my Heavenly Father than to cry out my need only to act thereafter in my own strength?  Oh Lord, help me to wait, to listen, to dwell and nothing more during these times.

That about sums it up right now.  Thank you to those who prayed for me last week and who remember me in your prayers.  Please let me know how I may serve you too, k?

JJ