everlasting arms

Last week was characterised by headache horrendous...am feeling somewhat fragile. Nevertheless, I want to re-boot my writing; I'm afraid I just couldn't manage it last week. I've decided to withdraw from some weekly activities I was previously committed to, as I was so tired by the time I got to a 'writing day' that not much could be eked from my energy-lacking state.

After my intial frustration and anxiety, I feel calmer. I have learned, many times, that God travels with me through light and darkness, and when my strength shrivels, he draws near. I know also I need to be willing to recognise him! So often we grieve over that which we do not have - whether it is the loss of something or the wish for something we have never attained - sometimes that grief becomes a habit that we sink into almost involuntarily.

A very much beloved kindred spirit has set up her own blog and called it 'treasures of darkness' which reminded me immediately of my own affinity with that particular verse.

I need not be frightened of the dark, for God goes before me and follows behind me, stays beside me and hovers below me. My eternal net of safety, whatever the struggle I face. I do not face it alone.  Once I understand that God is my priority and my passion, my perspective-maker and potential-former, the grief recedes into peace.  Whatever else, he is there, and despite my own shortsightedness, he will not lose sight of me.

Underneath are the everlasting arms.

at the station

When I was in my late teens, I prided myself on being able to pull an analogy out of anything.  I think I even gave a 'life lesson' from a pear, once.  It was a little bit on the silly side so I try and only make meaningful analogies these days!  (Me silly?  Surely not! - cue all my friends cracking up...) Travelling always sets me going though, especially train travel.  I was travelling by train this weekend.  I had my journey all pre-booked, seats reserved, everything.  I got to the station, and they eventually announced my first train was cancelled!  Which of course meant everything went out - I would never make the connections to the next two trains.

It worked out okay.  Despite the delay in the beginning, the 'alternative' route was fine - and actually I got to see bits of countryside I usually don't, as I'm taking a different way.  But of course, I started to ponder...

When it comes to catching or changing trains, when you have made a specific reservation for a certain seat and train and time - one of the worst things that can happen is that the train is cancelled. And when a train gets cancelled, all bookings are off. 

My experience is that once I'm over the frustration and shock - and sheer weariness - I simply change tack.  It needs to be handled differently.  It becomes a matter of catching the best train you can in your circumstance.  It's not the way you planned or the schedule you wanted.  You have to let go of your expectations and take the journey one stage at a time.

There are positives to this - you're not worrying about being late for the next train on your schedule.  It simply no longer applies.  You take each step as it comes.

Now, here I go with the analogy...

When life doesn't fit with our plans, when one change puts the whole thing out of whack, when nothing makes the sense you wanted it to - you are left with trust.  (Quick thinking, advice, and keeping calm are also good ingredients!)

Trust that, although the wait may be much longer than what you bargained for, there will, eventually be another train.  A different train.  It may take you by another route entirely, giving you a view of something you never knew you would see. 

When I was that somewhat silly teenager I wrote a somewhat silly song, but I remember one line: 'The train I'll catch at the station is worth the waiting.'  Sometimes we feel completely left behind.  Sitting in the station when everyone else is boarding trains.

But there's a train coming.

For us.

seasons and storms

The weather keeps dramatically shifting, from gales and squalls and torrential rain, then just as suddenly blows out and blue skies emerge...an hour later the clouds descend again.

It can be difficult to prepare for such extremes - what kind of coat do I need? Waterproof, windproof, warm or light? Which path should I take, and will it be muddy? Do I need thick socks or will my feet get too hot?

There have been times in life where it has felt like I have moved from one squall to the next. Not just for me, but for many. One lot of weather passes, and another sets in, before you can recover from the first, and prepare yourself for the next. You can find yourself in a completely different situation, needing a whole different set of tools and apparel.

Through times like this, we learn what our 'staples' are - in the sense of those things that are valuable and healthy and essential to keep us going whatever the weather, whatever the terrain.

For me these things include God and faith in him, hope, a sense of perspective. A gentle touch when others hurt. A firm touch when things need to change, or when I myself need a good self-talking to! Keeping my eyes on the light at the other side. All the more difficult when the light may not be visible...yet.

The sense I am not alone, that God is in the darkness with me. The sense that others, too, are dwelling in a similar darkness or storm, and that we can reach out to each other with understanding. The reminder that life is full of seasons.

I went through a very dark, isolated season which lasted at least 2 years, not that long ago. Now, I am aware of a quietness of heart and a renewing of strength. I have known the re-filling of hope. But what has remained with me is an understanding of that darkness and isolation. I may walk the path of hope, but there are so many who grapple with hopelessness.

I've been there. It's dark, and horrible. Your faith gets so thin you think it may break entirely. But you are not the only one. And you are not alone. Take the thread of your faith and entwine it with those of others. We can make it through.

By the grace of God, spring comes.

star watching, and other things of night

"You do not have to sit outside in the dark.
If, however, you want to look at the stars,
you will find that darkness is required.
The stars neither require it or demand it."
Annie Dillard

"What we learn in the dark we possess forever."
- Edith Schaeffer

"Even the darkness will not be dark to you; the night will shine like day, for darkness is as light to you."
- Psalm 139, addressing God

The only one who can see through every darkness - all kinds, not just physical darkness - is the one who created Light.

That last one was me.

I have found it reassuring at certain times in my life that God sees in the dark, even when I am utterly lost within it - he knows my exact location at all times. God is not afraid of the dark - he will wade right in there beside me, even if I cannot see him.

Just a couple of thoughts, drifting by.

the struggle

I would like to write an entry for this Wednesday's walk...but I am struggling for inspiration. This is not a new thing by any means - I frequently struggle for inspiration, have struggled for inspiration - so perhaps this post could be valid after all.

I have always been creative, as a child drawing and doodling, making up stories, writing down stories, begging my sister to tell me stories (which always had a Lucy in them). For many years I simply assumed that I would, in fact, write stories always. The trouble is, I always get stuck. Something unnameable gets stuck in my throat and then - how do I write my story?

I used to want to write a novel. To be honest, that ambition has fallen away from me. I would still like to write, but...

This tiredness that I have to bear, have had to bear for what is now over half my life - it gets inside my head. My concentration slips, my memory closes down, and the weariness gets soul deep.

I first started suffering from CFS/ME at the age of 14. It's tough to deal with as a teenager - I couldn't stand the divide it put between me and my peers - and the lack of understanding I found in those of my own age group. It was a vicious cycle - the more misunderstood I felt, the less I enlarged on what the problems were, and had no wish to be identified by this thing I never asked for. So desperate was I not to become labelled by it, I volunteered very little information. I don't think I would have known what to say even if I wanted to.

At first, my friends were understanding, but prolonged absence and the resulting distance made it more difficult. I clearly remember two of them talking in front of me about how they couldn't just stay at home all day, how they would have to get out and go to school and see people - and I just felt clenched. It wasn't something I could control. I just sat there listening, and feeling the exhaustion that they didn't understand, feeling it dominate my life and dictate my actions.

There were these little moments of teasing about how often I wasn't there. The moments weren't all the time, but they were enough. Do you think I want this? Do you think I don't hate it? Do you think that what you're saying isn't clobbering what little confidence I have left in myself? Gradually I stopped bothering to explain anything. I didn't have the coherency, anyway. What do you do when your body betrays you?

It's not like that now. Thankfully I haven't felt misunderstood in that way for a long time. People accept it, even if they can't grasp it, and support my decisions. But I still hate having to say it, to explain it. When something dominates your life, it's hard to describe yourself without it. I am less stressed about doing so than I used to be. But. I love meeting new people by nature. Often I dread it, simply because of the elephant in my head, that will have to come out, and explain why my life cannot be easily labelled and pigeon holed.

But would I want it to be? Although this is a bad patch now, I think exacerbated by the medication I am on for my head and neck, there have been good times where I have felt relatively well. There have been times when I have known healing. The last few years' relapse has held quite a sting for me at times. I'm still waiting for the new healing, but it hasn't come yet.

Perhaps without it I would not know what I do now, see what I have seen, learnt what I have learned. Perhaps I am kinder, wiser, softer for it, not inclined to be judgemental, always wary of labelling others - distinguishing people for who they are, not what they do. Perhaps. Sometimes I think - have I not learned this lesson by now? Can't I try a little living without it? Does that sound sad and pathetic?

I didn't intend to write about this at all, and I'm not sure it fits the topic, but there you are. What am I supposed to be? I still feel, as I stretch my life around the fatigue, segment my days in order to control it. The fact is at 14 years old I never once imagined I would still be dealing with this 15 years later - and this last relapse has been one of the worst.

I feel I have no right to complain, and I probably don't. But sometimes...I have to say it somewhere. We all need to scream, occasionally, metaphorically or not. We all need to open our hands and say: this is how I feel, right or not. I want to be better.

The fact is I can't remember. I can't remember what it feels like not to feel tired. I can no longer judge what is 'normal' as far as energy or strength or healthiness goes. I feel as if I am stretched so thinly - and not because there is so much to stretch over, but because there so little to stretch over with. The fact is I am afraid I will never feel strong again.

I started trying to explain why I struggle to write. This is only part of the reason why I struggle to write, when I desperately want to. But it is part of the reason I struggle to do a lot of things, when I desperately want to. But I am not the only person to struggle in the world. I am only one of millions.

Cry freedom then, for those who are wrapped in chains, much heavier than mine.

Today: 5/10, medium

shafts of light

To me, it seems, this is what hope looks like. Am struggling a little with feeling so grotty all the time; trying to be content with my circumstances and sometimes succeeding...sometimes, not. It becomes difficult, after such a long time, to imagine things will get better - that I will get better. I don't mean that in a self-pitying way but simply that, after struggling with this for over half my life, it naturally becomes harder to imagine ever being without it. I would be happy with improvement, not cure. I would be happy to be in a 'good patch' not a bad one. Stamp this picture on my heart and let it grow...to see it in the distance would be enough.

Today: 3/10, high

release

We had housegroup at ours tonight and something sparked inside me. Once again God pointed at something and I saw it in a new light - and was encouraged. It seems to be a theme lately. Some pensive part of me thinks - why is it now so good - why am I now so close - when I wasn't then? I laugh at my foolishness and swallow down the water I was previously lacking.

I wish I could describe it. It is a like a taste - an actual taste - on my tongue, a tingling on my skin, a deep breath of the purest air I could ever breathe. The thirst that was lacking surges through every atom, every molecule. From the longest darkest time of all, I have emerged into light so bright I am at a loss to describe it. It is bliss to be made so aware where previously I had no awareness except for the blackness and confusion. The only words I can say, but don't seem enough, are thank you.

Don't misunderstand me, my circumstances have not changed so dramatically that my life is suddenly smooth and perfect - it isn't. But through the 'treasures of darkness' I am closer to learning how to be content in all circumstances. So when I say thank you, I am not merely saying thank you for the light falling on my face, but for the darkness and the rotten bits and the I-will-never-see-God-again bits. Doubt, my most diligent and most disliked companion, finds it hard to get its voice heard as my thoughts whirl about, as I am caught up with delight at God, despite my limited circumstances, and what seems to others to be incomprehensible - why does God not release her from this?

But God has released me. It is not about my illness; it is about my purpose in him, my place in his kingdom, about understanding what I had previously only heard but not grasped. God has released me. He has released me from an ugliness of doubt and fear that has plagued me so often. More than that - but I hardly know what exactly. God has released me. I can't explain it - can't put into words from what and to what - but he has.

walk in love

Here is my attempt at the latest Salt Challenge, "Walking in Love".



I have some thoughts on it I would like to record, but right now I have to clean the bathroom, among other things! In case I don't get around to it before the challenge is over, here it is. Watch this space for further comment /explanation!
..........

As soon as I read the theme for this challenge, I thought of different shoes. The idea being that sometimes it is much easier to love, and other times it is more difficult. There are times when love springs from us, bubbles up, as we willingly express it in our attitudes and actions to others. At other times we would much rather curl up and not bother making the effort to actively love; it is more of an act of will to say 'let me do that for you', to do something purely for another person. What I pray is that whatever my mood or circumstance (whatever 'shoes', whichever 'road') is that I will still act (walk) in love.

I've said this before, but it is a continuing lesson - our strength of character is not truly shown in the good times but in the difficult times. Being loving and acting in a way pleasing to God when all seems to be rising up against you is much harder - but by practising it we become more able to do it. It's a challenge to me because I know when I am horribly tired I become more sensitive to things, less calm in reacting to conflict or difficult situations. I need God's strength in these moments to help me 'walk in love', because the fatigue robs me of the control I need to be the person he wants me to be. I need his patience and his goodness- I need the fruit of the Spirit, not the fruit of my efforts, in order to honour him when the road is far too steep for me and I frequently stumble.

The wonderful thing is that God's mercy is 'new every morning'. Although I may frequently fail to 'walk in love' as I am called to do, he is faithful and forgiving and gives me a fresh start each day, using the difficult moments and what I consider my failures to teach and strengthen me. These lessons can be very painful at times but God can transform even my pain into something beautiful, if I trust him with it. If I clutch it to myself, picking at it, berating myself, collecting my failures like anti-trophies, I am not giving it to God to mend - instead I am propagating it, making it worse, and causing a cycle to start which is hard to get out of.

So I pray, Lord, may I walk in love even when I'm on a stony, difficult road and wearing the wrong kind of shoes. Help me, and when I stumble, help me to fix my eyes on you, not looking down at where I have fallen. I may stumble often, but with you I can grow stronger. I can learn to love where I would not naturally be loving, because of your Spirit within me. I need to stay close to you in order to do this. Help me stay close, so that I can act out of love, everything flowing from love, so that the world may look and know that I am your disciple.

Energy levels: 5-6/10
Headache: low - medium

hope in the dark

"Hope...is a gift. Like life, it is a gift from God, total, unexpected, incomprehensible, undeserved. It springs out of nothingness, completely free. But to meet it, we have to descend into nothingness. And there we meet hope most perfectly, when we are stripped of our own confidence, our own strength, when we almost no longer exist." - Thomas Merton

It has been my experience that both hope and faith can spring from a place of empty despair and tears. When clinging so fiercely to my last threads of faith I have felt as if my fingers have given way and I reached the point when I dropped away from that which I clung to so desperately. And then, landing in the bottom of the pit, reduced to complete and utter honesty about where I was and who I was - God has said 'Ah. There you are.' And looking up, I realise that for all my struggles to keep myself from falling, he was there all the time, right at the bottom of the pit. Stripped of everything, I at last perceived him. Not that this realisation made everything spangly and wonderful, but it did constitute a major turning point for me at one stage over the last few years.

I often need to remind myself of this lesson - that I don't need to rely on the strength of my own fingers - that when I thought I was slipping from God's hands, in reality I was falling into them.

Energy levels: 5-6/10
Headache: medium, progressing to high