A matter of perspective

Monday’s perspective:

The level of sunlight raises up then down in the hallway beyond my bed
Like a child playing with a dimmer switch, how I know where these thoughts have led!
How can I get up and face the world one more, yes one more day?
When so much suffering met me here or there, no matter where the level of light has shone along the way?
Still one cannot judge the next moment based upon the past
You just cannot predict when joy, when peace, when hope will come at last?
Simmer down inner child and let the sovereignty of your Lord speak.
You must remember how He delivered you in the past when you were so weak.


Your fears, your toils were measured by My drops of blood while I hung on that cross
I saw, I see, I weep, and I am always right there when you feel lost.
Hitch your heart to Mine choosing faith that freedom will come in due time
Watch for My answers, My leadings, My deliverance some now, some beyond a simple rhyme.


There is hope. There is more. There is a heaven, I promise as I know you have seen.
Walk towards My light dear one: what’s coming is greater than what has been . . .

Friday’s perspective:

In time the beatings diminish

And you catch your breath to finish

The week that held too much, oh dear

Gave way to Friday and better news to hear.

Things moved forward:  medical tests and even some healing

Living more in the facts by golly with less in the “fearful feelings.”

I might even go out soon:  making plans for the days ahead Lord willing

Better get the pup.  It’s time for a ride to pick up the bacon, the drugs, the groceries:  excuses good enough to put off another day the cleaning!

May the Lord bless your weekend, Gentle Reader.  JJ

The Burger on the Bathroom Floor

Sometimes there’s a bride carried in the front door at the same time there’s another bride carried out the back door . . .

Hi there.  My name is Julie and I have a wacky life.  Not that my life has ever been boring, mind you.  Lots of difficult things have kept me on my toes (or on my knees before the Lord) for a good portion of my days on this earth.  I used to say it was like cooking with all of the burners on the stove cranked up to the highest setting.  Then there was this network marketing book entitled, Mach 1 with your hair on fire that described things pretty well for me too.  Helen Keller wrote in her book The Open Door, “Life is either a daring adventure or nothing at all.”  O.K.  You get the picture.  There is no rest for the weary so get over it, get on with it, and better get right with Jesus to see you through!

So what’s up with the burger on the bathroom floor, you ask?  Balancing my blood sugar is a key part of managing this crazy biotoxin illness that came on the heels of Lyme disease that came in through the backdoor of fibromyalgia many years ago.  Actually hypoglycemia came first followed by hypothyroidism, fibro, yada, yada, yada.  This all requires me to carry a protein snack and water with me virtually everywhere I go.  Popcorn doesn’t cut it very long.  I cheat sometimes with fatty veggie chips when grocery shopping only to follow-up with a chunk of lunchmeat from one of those ziplock bags from the deli counter usually at a stoplight when driving home.  Whatever.  Who needs a knife and fork anyways?

Dressed up for the wedding of my husband’s son yesterday and our friends’ son today, I opted for the bigger black leather purse (to match my shoes of course and the only other purse I own).  I could stash a butternut squash coconut muffin, some coconut cream, and a burger-lettuce roll-up secured in a Ziploc baggie in there and look like all of the rest of the women with maybe a little extra, er, baggage, if you know what I mean.  Who would know that I could survive an invasion of body snatchers for at least a day with no more than a twinge of hunger when it was all over?  I would be ready.  Unfortunately I did not plan on a wardrobe malfunction (a term coined in the USA after an egregious moment by Janet Jackson during the Super Bowl Half Time Show a few years ago.  I won’t go into it here).  Or rather a leather purse malfunction.  I barely made it through my own snafu with my dignity!

The D.J.s were cranking up the music at the Light Guard Armory to add some ambiance to the large plain, cinder-block walled room with metal doors pained beige to match and linoleum flooring that had been waxed for more years than I have seen the light of day.  The host families had done their best to decorate the place with table adornments inspired by nature and set up a simple, yet respectable snack table for later munching.  I knew I probably wouldn’t be able to eat any of it (can you say M&Ms and Reeses Pieces for dessert?) so I settled into the scene comfortable with the stash in my purse.  Surely the burger was o.k. unrefrigerated for a couple of hours.  The only problem was that I was getting very hungry!

What’s a gal to do waiting with all of the other guests for the wedding party to arrive, dressed up in her Sunday best with low blood sugar looming and a burger in her purse?  Well I learned a long time ago that if you need a moment of solace you can always escape to the bathroom.  No one usually questions your actions in there!  It’s a little different story, however, if you are a gal since gals tend to chat while tinkling, primping, washing their hands, and adjusting their bra straps not necessarily in that order! How do you fit in whipping out a burger in your purse?  Answer:  you don’t.

The next level of defense is to squirrel away in a bathroom stall, quietly unwrap the nourishment of choice, and snatch a few bites while crouched between the open areas on either side of the door.  If someone “accidentally” sees you wiping your fanny through the crack by the hinge it’s o.k. but eating in there?  EWWWWWW!  No way!  But who really cares anyways if you haven’t used the toilet just moments before and the place is clean.  I mean my hands were clean.  Oh yes, and one must make sure that no one else has camped there in the past hour either, if you know what I mean!  Once you have your sequencing down, you can hide your medical self care in this way if you so choose just like a diabetic might do the same when administering insulin in a public place.  Sometimes it’s just better to take care of it in the one private place to which you can always retreat.

I did not count on what happened next.  I was one large bite from finishing my life-giving, 1/2 burger wrapped in Romaine lettuce with a wedge of coconut spread when the burger went tumbling onto the floor.  Oh my goodness!  Not my precious sustenance!  Suddenly I became acutely aware of how really wrong it is to bring food into a bathroom.  Then trying to eat it there even in secret no longer seemed like a good idea.  Years of preserving my sense of social graces came to a screeeeeeching halt!  There’s a burger rolling on the bathroom floor and it came from my direction! 

Of course I did not count on what happened next either.  Just then I heard what seemed like a gaggle of women entering the restroom.  Holy crap!  (Pun might be intended here.)  In a flash I made a dash to pick up the chunk o’ meat, rinse it off in the sink, hide it in my hand, murmur something like, “excuse me my stuff is in there,” and retreat back into the stall with whatever style and grace I could preserve in my moment of horror.  How could I ever have explained a burger rolling on the floor?  Never mind.  Nothing came to mind.  I stuffed the once delectable beef/bison griller into the open piece of Saran wrap in my purse and zipped it closed.  Snack time was over.  I would have to survive on the bites consumed thus far.  I thought I would be o.k. with that so I walked “looking normal” out of the stall to wash my hands then leave.  The two unsuspecting witnesses left with their curious glances, having never stopped their conversation during their porcelain activities.  Cool beans.  I was now in the clear and free to leave as well.

Sigh.  Some things in life are strange at times.  You just gotta do what you gotta do and laugh about it if you possibly can.  Gentle Reader:  the next time you grab a burger off the grill try not to think of me munching somewhere in a bathroom stall, k?  It just might change your appetite a bit.  If you do try adding some more spicy mustard and you will be fine.  I promise.  JJ

burger-cartoon-vector-graphic_1334753008057

 

All You Need is Love

Sometimes you just need Jesus with skin on, ya know?

Tis quite humbling to find true love in the midst of the most wretched time of my life.  Even the worst of the trauma of my childhood cannot compare to the wrecking ball-like experiences of violent, waking seizures every day.  During the bewitching hour of night my beloved often lingers nearby, checking in periodically or lies next to me to warm my chilled, freaking out frame.  Perhaps he has carried me to the bathroom moments earlier or fed me some water to drink in my listless state after an episode.  And then comes the silliness that only a River Bear can muster in the midst of yet another crisis.   Seriously!  He finds a way to laugh in the midst of it all.

Sometimes you just need Jesus with skin on and I am exceedingly grateful love my Steve every day.  Making his lunch bag for work or cooking dinner a few nights per week is my meager contribution of late.  Sometimes I can do housework, grocery shop and laundry too; not so much lately.  It doesn’t seem to matter to my husband though.  He appreciates any of it and celebrates when I can get out and walk the dog or create a piece of jewelry instead of completing the chores.  Peanut butter and jelly sandwiches seem to fill his belly just the same!  What further amazes me is his compliments and words of encouragement when I am at my lowest.  I have never known this much love from anyone before Steve!

To those Gentle Readers who are single:  be the partner for which you seek and wait for the one who will love you above all else after the Lord.  I found Steve after 47 years of living and after kissing a few frogs along the way!  Oh well.  Sometimes you can’t tell a prince from a frog until it’s too late!  Yet when we trust the One who knows and numbers each hair on our pretty little heads, He will bring your night in shining aluminum*, or is that armor (?) at just the right time.  The trials and adventures of life come alive when shared with your intended beloved.

I used to say that I could make a relationship out of anything.  I was dumb and wrong.  Settling for less only brings heartache.  I now see too how the Lord empowers me to love Steve beyond my earthly capabilities and he must be doing the same for Steve as he loves me too.  In doing so we are drawn even closer together.  How does one prepare a lunch bag, clean up the kitchen at 4:00 a.m., and make it back to bed when sickly, nauseous, twitching in pre-tic episodes, etc.?  (How does Steve work full time, serve and worship at church, attend to household tasks, and keep up with athletic endeavors after staying up late with me?)  By calling on the Lord to add His increase, He brings blessings beyond the tasks at hand.  As for me, on particularly bad days I don’t do much of anything.  The look in my eyes is all I can give, to say how proud I am that my husband goes to work each day for us, or for me to muster up the strength to take a shower and wear the jeans he likes the best.  It is enough.  It is love.

Thank you Steve.  Thank you Lord!

Steve and Julie looking out over Lover's Leap, Starved Rock State Park, Illinois
Steve and Julie looking out over Lover’s Leap, Starved Rock State Park, Illinois

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*  The “night in shining aluminum” story stems from the theme of many romance novels:  the dashing young man will eventually scoop the young maiden into his arms and carry her off into eternal bliss as the sun sets.  I believe I had a similar experience the day of my move from the west suburbs of Chicago, Illinois 200 miles east to be with Steve in northeastern Indiana.  We met on Yahoo Personals and had a fairy tale long distance relationship for longer than my Prince Charming desired.  Each time we parted to make the long drive home he would tease me about running off to be with him in Indiana!  The tell tale moment finally came on moving day in November of 2007.  The movers had packed the 24-foot box truck with all of the earthly possessions from my beautiful condo near the Dupage River.  We were standing in the parking lot about ready to go when he popped the question.  Steve looked at me and said, “Julie I’m going to ask you one last time:  will you come away with me to Indiana?”  I jumped into his arms with a resounding “YES” and off into the beast of shiny aluminum we went!  My prince had come for me at last . . .  :J