My body is the temple of the Holy Spirit

 It has been over a month since I posted and it is completely my own fault. 

 The internet has worked. 

 My time has been free enough to write. 

 God has even given me words, several times.

 Most of those words are simply gone. Some of them are saved in the notes section of my phone.... but most of them are just gone. 

Why? 

Hmmm....Good question.

I think the simplest answer is that I wanted to be the happy person. I wanted to only share good news and unfortunately good news hasn’t been as strong as I had hoped. 

 Sometimes in the middle of “not good news” the actual, true, undeniable good news gets harder to see. We have all been there and experienced that. JOY gets hidden under sadness and discouragement. Hope is buried under fear. 

 Which leads me to this word of truth...

Who do I think I am to plan my course? Truly. I write this blog about trusting my Savior so I think I better follow through on meaning it. 

 So here I am, five months out from surgery, fairly confident that it didn’t work. September and October were beautiful and full of hope. Then I had 3 seizures in November. Definite, old style seizures. Slightly different, but old style. There were at least 5 in December, and then 5 in January as well, and already 2 so far this month. 

 Which leaves me, as I said, fairly confident that surgery didn’t work. 

 The whole reason I started writing (again) was to talk about this journey, brain surgery. If I only write about what I want to happen then it isn’t really writing about the journey, only the scenic stops along the way. I can’t only write about the scenic stops. That is a cheesy novel, not a story of growth. I have to write about the parts of the journey that aren’t beautiful and aren’t turning out the way I wanted them to. So, I am trying today to write the less than beautiful parts. 

 Fear and trembling will win if we let them. 

 I suppose the simple truth is, we don’t beat them. 

 It is not us who win the battle. We, those of us who are holding to the promise of our Jehovah, do not fight the battle on our own. That means we don’t have to win the battle. Our Savor already has. 

 So, fear and trembling are conquered for us in the end. Pain and sadness are still here, now. Human bodies are broken and human souls make wrong choices. But we do not fight alone and that is enough. 

 That means I have hope my friends.

 I have hope that I, Bethany Ruth, can shine Joy with a broken body. 

 I have hope that I can give love even when it isn’t asked for or returned by the world around me. 

 I have hope that every single morning, no matter what epilepsy, graves’s disease or diabetes has done the night before I can wake up with the ability to share Jesus in a the simplest and purest ways.

 The fruit of the Spirit is truly the simplest goal, but oh so very much the goal. 

Last reminder....

 My friends, don’t forget that important last reminder. 

 Your body IS the temple of the Holy Spirit. 

 Healthy body or broken. Joyful body or mourning. Focused and on track or scattered and blown with the wind. 

 Your body is the temple of the Holy Spirit. 

 Be blessed my friends, then turn around and return those blessings to others. 

Keep running...

 “Keep on keeping on,” as the old saying goes.

 Or, as The Word says, “run with endurance.”

 I planned for my “next post” to be about my sister Kelsey and her family as they move to Kenya. It was suppose to be written days ago and shared in their time of travel. 

 I failed. Instead I had two seizures and was tired and discouraged, and for a few days focused only on myself and my failing body. 

 I think that perhaps that is the point of this blog though. A reminder that, unlike the falsehoods of Facebook and Instagram and all the other quick posts of success we share online, we are all imperfect. 

 Did you hear that my friends? We are all imperfect. Every single one of us. 

 We are called to “run with endurance” but that doesn’t mean we won’t be covered in ugly sweat, or twist our ankle and limp for a while, or fall and skin our knees along the way. Run with endurance doesn’t mean run with perfection. It just means keep getting up and trying again. 

 I saw this George Matheson quote this morning. 

https://quotefancy.com/george-matheson-quotes

 His story is worth reading, even if you only skim the Wikipedia short story. He became blind in his 20’s, at a time in history when blindness kept you from accomplishing anything. Yet, he didn’t let that stop him from sharing love and shining Joy. He wrote books and songs. He was a full time pastor. He held on to passion for Jesus and fullness of life. 

 He held on. 

 That quote calls out to me. I want to, like him, be a rainbow in my cloud. I don’t want to simply have hope for the rainbow, which in itself is beautiful. I want to BE the rainbow for others as they wait. 

 So that is my challenge to you. As you run with endurance, sometimes covered in sweat and limping, remember that you can still be the rainbow for someone else. 

 Be the rainbow, the light and the beauty in the cloud filled rainstorm. 

 I still write this to ask that you pray for my sister and her family. You can read more of their story here. 

 Even more though, I write to encourage you to keep running with endurance. Don’t give up. Sometimes we will limp. Sometimes we will fall. Sometimes we will, perhaps, take the wrong path and have to go back and start afresh. But don’t stop trying to hear our Jesus and go where HE leads you. 

 Be blessed my friends, one small step at a time. Please, take a deep breath, brush yourself off and BE the rainbow shining through the rain.

Keep swimming

 Tomorrow came with success.
 We received a rescheduling date. August 28th is the next try for LITT surgery. Exactly four weeks after the cancelled event.

 What I want to talk about for a couple lines though is those first few minutes after the cancellation. I want to be “real” with you. The battle for Joy is hard and I don’t want anyone to think those muscles I spoke about on Thursday don’t get sore some days.

 This has been a rough month, as far as seizures go. I am on a lot of meds again and they are still not working effectively. Seizures are, once again, fairly often.
 I shouldn’t complain. I rarely have Grande Mal’s. I rarely lose bladder control. I rarely throw up. I usually just return to the “real world” in need of a blanket and a nap. We are blessed enough financially that those things are available to me.
 But surgery was a beautiful island of hope. Hope that I could be closer to the “me” that I was before seizures began. Able to drive. Able to go out in public without quite as much preplanning. I will always have diabetes. The insulin pump will always come with me. A snack in case of an emergency low blood sugar. A vial of insulin in case the pump has an error.
 My life will never be “average”... but that island of hope, that seizures could be contained and controlled was almost within reach.
 Then suddenly, Thursday morning, it was yanked out of reach and that morning, when the next date was not yet given, that island seemed farther away then I was capable of seeing, farther away than I was capable of swimming.
 I thought for a few seconds that I might drown before I remembered how to swim.

 So, thank you everyone who was praying for me. Even though your prayers were for my surgery to go well, God reminded me that He hears those prayers and surrounds me with His love in the RIGHT way, in the way that I need to be surrounded.

 I remembered how to swim. I opened my eyes again and could see that island of hope way off in the distance. At that exact moment I still wasn’t sure if I could make it that far, but at least I could see it, and I had remembered how to swim, and that was enough.

 60 hours later life is calmer.
 Obviously, the reminder that it is better for the machine to break before I am in the middle of surgery was a beautiful truth. I had multiple prayer warriors confirm that actual prayer was spoken over me, and I have no doubt that Jesus is guiding the steps that I am taking.
 The next date is scheduled.
 The details of in-laws coming to be with the boys, Andy being off work, and even exact times for COVID test and pre-op appointments are all set, already.

 But I had a seizure today and am tired and discouraged.
 So the prayer given in the Psalms, “Save me, O God! For the waters have come up to my neck,” was a perfect verse to have as a reminder today. My Savior is faithful to do that- to send the verse I need at the moment I need it without me even looking for it.

 Listen. He is always speaking. You will hear Him if you take the time to be still.

Be blessed my friends. One moment at a time. Just keep swimming.

I am strong!

This is unusual for a woman to ask, but I want you to really look at that picture. My hair is crazy, no surprise. It is growing back nicely, after the January shaving, but it has no pattern and obeys no orders. I took this shot spur of the moment to show a friend the curls that are trying to return. I truly have very little vanity, in things like that, so there is no make up and no planning. But I want you to look at the lines around my eyes. I am tired. You can see it. I am weak. Physically and emotionally and probably spiritually too. 

 And yet....

“But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me. That is why, for Christ’s sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong.”
‭‭2 Corinthians‬ ‭12:9-10‬ ‭NIV‬‬
https://www.bible.com/111/2co.12.9-10.niv

 When I am weak, then I am strong.

 Not “after I have learned a lesson”, then I am strong.

 Not “after my Savior has finished making me perfect” then I am strong.

 When I am weak.

 In the middle of it.

 When I am sick. When I am tired. When I am afraid. When I am angry.

 WHEN.

 Because I have my Savior, Jesus Christ. Because I have that amazing best friend as part of my daily life, helping me face the challenges.

 So, I am choosing to delight in my weaknesses. It is hard some days. I don’t like being weak. I want to be super woman instead. But, WHEN I, Bethany Ruth, am weak, THEN I, Bethany Ruth with Jesus as a helper, am strong.

 We are waiting right now. The results of “the swab” should be back tomorrow. I am probably just fighting a yucky cold. But a diabetic, epileptic, who had brain surgery a few months ago gets checked when they start coughing. :)
 So, my weaknesses are being especially annoying right now. Help me celebrate my strength in my weakness, please. Say a prayer for me to remember to celebrate those weaknesses.

 Be blessed my friends. Remember that you are strong IN your weakness. Just like me.

Update: No coronavirus detected! Still a cough and ridiculous exhaustion to conquer, but the fever has subsided, so we are starting Zyrtec now and hoping that the leftovers are just really bad timing of allergies. Thanks, everyone, for your prayers!

Where the focus lies

 I read an interesting blog from someone else talking about chronic illness, saying that perhaps this Coronavirus is giving those without sickness a view of what life is like for us, those who are fighting to stay alive. 

 The daily not knowing.

 The “realness” of life.

 I don’t think Coronavirus has affected me much, emotionally. Fear, and the fight against it, is a daily thing for me. I have been fighting against diseases that want to kill me for my whole life. I have packed my husband up and sent him off to jump out of planes and be prepared to not come home for nearly 20 years. Covid 19 truly hasn’t been anything. 

No, the past has prepared me for fighting already. 

 I wrote this following paragraph, a quick jotting down of my feelings in the notes section of my phone, in October of last year in the middle of a really bad blood sugar day. It isn’t the first time I have felt it, and I doubt it will be the last.

 I am tired. Tired of fighting. Tired of trying. When someone has cancer they are allowed to just quit. It is almost seen as admirable and honorable. I am not allowed to just stop taking meds and let the disease finish it’s run. Diabetes and epilepsy are both ones you are supposed to beat. Or at least fight. What if I don’t want to? What about when I am tired of fighting, just to stay alive. 

 Please Lord, give me some energy to keep fighting. One minute at a time.

 I remember that soon after Joey Feek passed away her husband released a film showing the journey of their last years, their last joys, their last battles. To Joey, with love. We watched it soon after it was on video and I had to admit to Andy that I truly was jealous of her. She got to go home. She was able to be free, to be done with the fight. 

 He didn’t like hearing that, obviously, and looking back I can understand his reaction... and that is why I am unsure of how to post this here. I need you all to understand that this isn’t depression. This isn’t a death wish. This isn’t me being suicidal. This is just honesty: there are moments when having to fight my WHOLE LIFE to stay alive gets exhausting. Exhausting like running a marathon. Like birthing a child. Like fighting a war. 
 You are tired, both mentally and physically. You don’t truly want to quit. You have things you are looking forward to; finishing the race, holding that baby, winning the battle. But sometimes in the middle of it all you are just so tired that you almost forget how to breath. That is life with multiple diseases.  
 I think that Louisa May Alcott said it so beautifully, describing Beth’s last days in Little Women,
 "...to make her forget the mortal weariness that was almost as hard to bear as pain." 

Mortal weariness sums it up. Just so very tired. Two seizures, a blood sugar of 355 and one of 42, all in 48 hours is enough to make you just so..very... tired...

 A couple days ago when the sun was shining and the birds were singing and I was pulling weeds and enjoying flowers and finding tomatoes already starting to show their beautiful selves, well, the tired wasn’t as heavy, it wasn’t as tiring. 

 Tomatoes, peeking out!

Just a spot of beauty

 I am not always exhausted. Not always. 

 But since March was so ugly and I am “at risk” with a compromised immune system and don’t want to end up needing the ER because of an over abundance of seizures, my neurologist has put me back on another (of my old) seizure meds (in addition to my current one). So, I am in that lovely stage of working my way up in dosage, slowly adjusting to the exhaustion then adding another pill so I can be even more exhausted again. 

 It has been a rough couple weeks, emotionally and physically. It would have been, even if there hadn’t been multiple deaths across the country from a disease that we don’t understand. That’s the thing- my body is always failing.

 I am always, always, choosing to fight to stay alive. 

 Choosing to have joy, or not. 

 Choosing to see the tomato plant and rejoice, or not. 

 Choosing to pull the weeds knowing they will return again tomorrow, but to pull them anyway, or not.

 I need you to understand that this is a choice I make. 

 Every day. 

 It is never easy. 

 Sometimes it is not as hard, but it is never easy. 

 But here is the thing... I think that, unlike what the blog I read earlier and my own selfish moments want to insinuate, so are you. We all struggle. Everyone. Every day. 

 Pain. Fear. Anger. Exhaustion. 

 Different amounts. Different levels. Different reasons.

 We can all be overwhelmed.

 It is a choice, every day, how we respond. 

 I am not the only one. Perhaps Coronavirus is making things a little stranger or the pain a little stronger for some of you, but this isn’t a brand new thing. 

 It is the same choices as always. 

 So, please my friends, choose JOY! 

Can you see the difference between those two nearly identical pictures? 

Where was the focus? What was the focus? 

It only took a split second to change, to make the choice where to focus my attention. 

We can focus on the thorns on we can focus on the flowers. 

That is the choice, over and over. 

I am positive that we will fail at times and only see the thorns. 

Then we get to blink, and refocus again. 

Make a different choice the next time. 

In the middle of writing this, in the middle of discussing with Andy the beauty of focusing on the rose instead of the thorn I realized that my life is a rose bush. My thorns -the diabetes, Graves’ disease and epilepsy- are here to stay. But they serve a purpose too. Thorns on a bush offer protection. They are sharp and dangerous and sometimes painful, but they do serve a purpose. My thorns do too, if I pay attention. If I remember to notice. The places I have been and the people I have met because of my thorns. The places I have not been and the people I have not met because of my thorns.

 These thorns at times exhaust me. 

 Truthfully though, they make me who I am and I will choose to celebrate them. I will choose to celebrate the sometimes overwhelming but always beautiful rose bush of my life. 

See the roses, and the thorns. 

Enjoy the beauty and the strength.

 Be blessed my friends, in the choices. 

 Be aware of them, time after time. 

 Make the right ones, exhausting time after exhausting time.

At home in My love

My friend Amanda texted this verse to me this morning. 

“Remain in My love.”

 How is it that friends know what we need before we do?

The MSG translation says “Make yourselves at home in My love.”

I have been at home in His love from before I have memories. 

This picture of my parents and I speaks to me so much right now.

 Look how young they are! They have so much still to learn, about Jesus, and each other, parenting and the body of Christ. 

 But they had already given me to Jesus.

I was already “abiding” in His love. (NKJV)

Hold onto that, please, while I change subjects. 

This is my new insulin pump. I got it, and a new CGM, on Wednesday. 

The potential for the teamwork is beautiful, and I am hopeful, but learning new tech while recovering from several other recent medical “issues” is complicated. I might be slightly overwhelmed.

And after a beautiful three weeks off, the seizures decided they were ready to come back early Thursday morning.  

My blood sugars have been ALL OVER the place, and this new machine is set to “tell me” every time. The seizures were more exhausting then usual, just because I am weak after a few weeks off. Mom was having trouble with her heart, again, and a relative of Andy’s passed away yesterday and my nephew was having some sort of allergic reaction, over and over, at 5 months old. 

I was discouraged. 

I was letting discouragement win. 

Then, I greeted this morning with that first verse in a text and very shortly after the verse shown on my insulin pump picture popped up in my reading.

“Haven’t you learned to trust (me) yet?”

I laughed.

I might have cried a little too. 

I think my Jesus might have to be frustrated with me. 

“Still no trust Bethany?”

Then I looked up at the mantle, at the sign Andy bought me just a few days ago, the reminder that I can do this...because I don’t actually have to do anything. 

Just let faith be bigger than fear. 

Remember that I can trust Him. 

Hold onto that promise that I am “at home” in His love. 

That is so simple. 

It is enough.

Details, if desired

I don't know where to start. 

 I guess the beginning? 

 Type one diabetes is an auto-immune disorder. Your own body gets confused and "breaks" the insulin producing part of your pancreas. I was diagnosed at 12. 

 Graves disease is an auto-immune disorder. Your thyroid can't self-regulate and produces too much, or jumps all around. I was diagnosed at 22. 

 When I was 29 I started having "spells". I would stop everything, stand still and stare blankly. In my head I had gone somewhere else. A different world, with a repeating storyline. I started recognizing that world, and developed the ability to "fast forward" the story, but couldn't stop it completely. 

 At first they called them atypical migraines, then, after having a grande mal, decided that they were a type of seizure. 

 I don't think any of us were taking them very seriously still. Annoying, yes, but something to work around. 

 Topamax worked for several years. The spells were shorter, and less often, and sometimes even went months in between. 

 But Topamax wasn't strong enough after awhile. Between military moves and changing doctors I wasn't taking care of myself as well as I should and ended up having over 20 of my spells, my seizures, in a 3 day period. In Oct of 2011, at the end of those 3 days, I lost my memory. Just gone. I knew I was supposed to recognize people. But I didn't. 

 Thankfully, I was visiting my parents while Andy was away for training, and my dad took my children and put them to bed for me. My mom sat with me and told me the story of birthing my children and marrying my husband. She showed me pictures of my siblings and best friends. She told me what was important to me, what I loved. I cried.

 By the next morning it had all come back, but that was when I started taking this disorder seriously. 

 

 Sometimes meds work really well. 

 Sometimes they turn me into an unkind person. 

 Sometimes they make me just want to sleep all the time. 

 Several times they have left me begging God to please just let me die. 

 Once they even had me planning the math needed to make a Tahoe and a hill enough for that. 

 Meds can be very ugly. Don't get me wrong, they have been very helpful too, but they can be ugly. 

 Vimpat, the one I am on now doesn't seem to be working any longer. I am back to 7-8 recognized spells a month, and probably more that are more subtle, which leaves me exhausted and confused. At least twice in the last six months I have simply "lost" time. I have continued to function, putting away groceries and responding to questions even, but an hour later I "wake up" and have no memory of it. I was simply on autopilot. 

 I am tired of feeling lost. I am tired of being tired. 

 So, we are trying something new. 

 The latest theory is that my seizures are actually an auto immune disorder as well. My body got confused enough years ago to kill my pancreas and mess up my thyroid. Now it is making my brain misfire. It is destroying itself. For anyone medical, my anti-gad 65 was so high it was immeasurable. 

 The treatment I am starting is called IVIG. It is an iv drip of immune globulin. An immune boosting surge. The theory, the hope, is that the confused part of my body will spend time trying to figure it out, even fighting against these new things, and stop beating up my brain. 

 I have a 3 hour dose every day this week, boosting my body up and getting it started. 

 Today's went well. 

It will take months to know if it is helping my seizures. But today went well. I accepted the meds without any negative side effects except a slight headache... which is pretty much a constant part of my life anyway. I have hope. 

 Thank you, all of you, for your amazing support and prayers. I needed that. Hated to admit it, but needed it. 

Where does the time go?

 I suppose that every day is an anniversary of something. It holds a memory, whether good or bad, of an event, or conversation, or even just an emotion that brought change.

 January 18th is an anniversary for me.

 Technically, it might be strange to declare it something to celebrate, but on the other side of that is mourning, and that is not accurate either.
 Even after 25 years, it is still changing me. Creating me. Defining me.
 But, in all honesty, I wouldn't change it. So what is left but to celebrate?

 I rejoice in my diabetes!


 Twenty-five years ago I was 12 years old. I had had strep throats a few weeks earlier and just couldn't seem to get well. I had lost weight, but my mom thought "must be puberty"... until I just stayed tired. So we were back at the doctor- And it only took one finger stick, one drop of blood, for the doctor to know.

 At 12, I knew absolutely nothing about diabetes. It was a foreign word that sounded just as scary as cancer or leprosy. So my first question was "Am I going to die?" (But very quickly behind that followed "Can I still have babies?" I knew my priorities even then.) 😊

 Then, almost immediately, diabetes became part of who I was. I have talked to people who hate that; Who fight against letting a disease "define" them. To me, making it part of my definition accepts it, rather than fights it... and let me tell you, fighting it will not change anything.

 So, I celebrate it!


 Things change, obviously.

 I grew up. Got married. Had those babies. 😊

 New medical problems were discovered, and treated, and became part of my definition.

 Twenty-five years later I am still learning.
 I am still growing.
 Some days I am, sad to admit, still fighting.

 But who I am, what defines me, is completely in the hands of God.

 How can I do anything except celebrate it!?

 My diabetes decided to rebel a few weeks ago. My blood sugar hit 500, and anyone who knows anything medical knows that is not good. For a few minutes in the middle of fighting with my body (for several days of a very frustrating rebellion) I forgot Who I belong to. I forgot that I am beautifully and wonderfully made. (Psalm 139:14) I forgot that every part of what defines me is made for a reason. 

 All I had, on my own, was hate for my body. And a very strong jealousy of healthy people. 

 Thankfully, I also had a Savior who is full of grace, and family who is not afraid to point to Him, and His Word, when I need it. 

  The Psalms are my retreat when I am struggling. They seem so heartfelt and real- so aligned with my sometimes faulty human emotions- crying out for help. So I have read a lot of Psalms in the last few weeks. (And a lot of Streams in the Desert by L. B. Cowman, if anyone else is looking for someone to share in their emotions) 

 I have been reminded, over and over, that sometimes the need to wait quietly, when you would rather be yelling enthusiastically, is the answer. 

 So, through grace, and some intense time in the Psalms, the unexplainable peace has returned. 

 The ability to celebrate my faulty body is renewed. 

 And today's anniversary is perfect timing. 

 I am not physically healed. For that I continue to wait quietly, with my hope in Him. (Psalm 62:5)

 But my spirit is healed, and that is far, far, more important. 

Today, like every other day, is an anniversary. 

 Whether you see it as something to mourn or to celebrate is up to you. 

 Choose today, and every single other day, to find something to celebrate. 

 Choose Joy! 

Be blessed my friends! 

               Bethany

Refuge

 Andy is currently attending the Captain's Career Course at Fort Leonard Wood. It is only a six month course, so settling in seems slightly pointless. We haven't hung any pictures and left half the books in boxes. We threw away the couch before we left Ft. Bragg, and have made do with bean bag chairs since we have been here. I don't even know where to look, in the stacks of storage, for Easter decorations.
 But still, when you live someplace, you can't help but settle in. I found a local market with fresh eggs and homemade jams. We joined a homeschool co-op, sharing classes like human anatomy and art. We even signed up for the Easter Play at the church we have been attending.
 I didn't plan on it, but I have settled.

 Yet, somehow, the military medical system has not joined me in that. In that area of my life I am not settled at all! It has taken over 2 months, 3 doctor appointments, and more phone calls to the front desk then I can even count - and I still don't have any of my diabetic supplies or seizure meds.

 I have met people here. Really nice people. However, I would not say I have made any friends. People I can talk to about homeschooling and military life - absolutely. Someone I can call and cry with - not so much. I can't say I have really tried, so I am not complaining - simply pointing it out.
 Last Thursday I was invited to a ladies Bible study. While chatting before hand I gave a quick summary of my complaints about medical help here, or the lack there-of. One of the ladies immediately pulled out her phone and texted a friend. That friend texted someone else, and I had new knowledge of who to talk to and what steps to take within minutes.
 This woman is not my friend. We barely know each other. But she took the time to make contact, find information, and pass it all along to me. She was the hands and feet of Christ in my life, right that moment, when I needed it. She was a friend.

 We talked about Psalm 2 that afternoon, and the verse that stood out to me was 2:12b. "Blessed are all who take refuge in Him."

 Refuge In: not refuge from. Refuge is not hiding. Protection does not mean unable to see, or be seen. I sometimes fool myself into thinking that when I find refuge it means I am not strong enough to shine His glory. That if I seek protection it means I am weak. But refuge IN Him does not mean refuge from everything else. I can have supernatural peace in the middle of extremely stressful moments and still be a shining light and a blooming flower.

 As the Message translation puts it, "if you make a run for God- you won't regret it."

 It has been over a week, again, and I still don't have the supplies I need. I talked to different people, made steps in the right direction, and still don't have the problem solved.

 Yesterday I was very VERY emotional about it. I cried on the phone with Liberty Medical, who actually mail me my supplies. I cried with Tricare, the insurance company. Then I called my mom and cried for her.
 What did crying accomplish? Nothing I guess... but I felt better getting it all out! And I was reminded, again, that I can take refuge IN my Savior, and still make noise and stand up for myself. Technically, I should be completely out of infusion sets. Should have been for days. And you cannot just walk into Walmart and buy them.
 But God works. I have gotten four days out of some, when usually I can only do three. I found two in a suitcase. Yesterday I remembered that I had one in the car (for emergencies!) They will not get here over the Easter holiday. But maybe early next week?

I take refuge in my God. I trust that He is involved, even when I cannot understand.

 I welcome your prayers. Yes, that this problem would be worked out. But even more so that I will remember to take refuge IN my God.

 Psalm 9:9+11 says "The Lord also will be a stronghold for the oppressed, A stronghold in times of trouble... Sing praises to the Lord, who dwells in Zion; Declare among the peoples His deeds." NASB

 So I sing His praises and declare His deeds. He is my stronghold. His part of the promise remains true. I will follow through with my part too. I will "Tell the world about His unforgettable deeds" NLT

 Thanks for listening!

Blessings, 

Alexander...

 Last week, like Alexander, I had a "Terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day." Truly, it just kept getting worse. My cycle started, which is probably TMI, but when you know you are never going to have another baby it just seems such a waste of time and energy. The heater in the bathroom suddenly quit working, so it was cold when I got out of the shower. Zion spilled his milk everywhere as we were trying to run out the door for homeschool co-op. My blood sugar went sky-high (over 300!) because somehow my pump was not attached correctly. I forgot the library books, so I couldn't return them. The line was humungous when I stopped at the pharmacy to pick up my Synthroid. But we finally made it to the commissary. I just needed to pick up a few things - to get Andy through the week while we were gone. But of course I grabbed a few things on sale, and several for which I had coupons that were about to expire. Still, we made decent time, saved $25 dollars in coupons and tried to pay.

 No luck.
 Card rejected. 

I suppose a back story is needed here. Just a few days later my credit card had been hacked. As in someone tried to spend $1000 on it, and didn't have the expiration date. My bank caught it, called me immediately, and it was cancelled.
 But that left me with no card.
 We use ours for everything, then pay it off at the end of the month. (I refuse to pay interest on something I don't have to) But now my system was messed up.
 I only keep enough money in the checking account for a few basic things.
 And now that the credit card was unavailable I used the debit.
 And forgot that moving money to the proper account is sort of useful.

 Especially if you don't want to be standing at the grocery with over $100 worth of groceries and not be able to pay.

 I got online to my bank and transferred the money over. But by then I had gotten the password wrong on my debit several times (when I was first trying to figure out why it wasn't working) and the line behind me was horrendous.
 So the cashier dug through her drawer trying to find my coupons, and I sat there in complete embarrassment.

 We finally got the coupons back, got out the door with a small amount of my dignity intact, (but still no groceries), and went to the truck. At which time I started to feel just sick. So I checked my blood.

 27!!

Anyone who knows anything about diabetes can wonder why I hadn't passed out yet. But I hadn't, so I sat in the truck trying to find things to stuff in my face. I was seeing spots and things were blurring, but we found raisins and cranberries. A chocolate, down in the bottom of my purse.  And a moment of quiet.

 Canaan was as upset as I was. He is just old enough to be concerned about being able to pay the bills, and figuring out where money comes from and that it isn't un-ending. So I think he was also a little afraid. I realized that I was teaching them the complete WRONG way to respond.

 I stopped, and as he said, "This was the worst thing that could ever happen", I was able to give the proper response this time.

 "Not at all"

 I reminded them that we have each other, and they are all healthy and strong. My blood sugar was returning to safe levels as we spoke and we still have food at home.

 Then Canaan made it a special project to come up with disaster scenarios that would be worse then our day.

 "Lost in the desert, covered in boils and about to be kidnapped by aliens."
 "Already kidnapped by aliens and thrown into a pit with the (some monster from Star Wars) while still covered in boils and starving."

 And the list got even more creative then that!

 My blood sugar went back to normal, we got off base before rush hour, and we made it home with time to make dinner.

 But as we unloaded the truck from all the co-op supplies I realized that my little bag with a neatly organized box of coupons, divided by theme - well it wasn't there. Anywhere. After going to all that trouble to get my coupons back, I had lost the entire box.

 I think I may have cried at that point. 

 Ah well, what is money? Obviously with out CC being hacked and our debit card not working (because of my own failing), perhaps I was supposed to be learning a lesson about money.
 About dependence on it. 
 About trust in it.
 About living without it, or at least without as much of it. 
 About being reminded how very blessed we are, because our "living without money" was going a few days having to rearrange our accounts, rather then not having a job.

 Lessons are hard to learn. Sometimes they are even hard to find. Like, why in the world did the rest of my day have to be so difficult? So I could teach Canaan that there could always be worse and we have to trust no matter what? So that I would be better at finding the good, even in the moment I am most annoyed? Sigh

 But we are always learning. Sometimes we think we are "grown up" and should know everything we need to know. I have known Jesus my entire life. How in the world did I forget to trust Him for something as boring as groceries?

 So, a small moment of inconvenience in order to re-learn a lesson. I really can't complain.

 Although I did that evening, poor Andy! He loves me enough to sit and listen.

The next day on his way home from work, when Andy stopped at the commissary to pick up the few things he really needed while we were gone, he asked if anyone had turned in a bag of coupons. It was slightly mangled, and looked like it had probably been hit by a car, but it was there.
 The whole box, scissors and calculator included. Unable to be used, but full of all my saving potential.
 He stopped again on his way home, running into the local Walmart to buy me a newer, better box. He helped laminate dividers and label them clearly. The finished product is far better then the box I lost, and has the added bonus of being filled with love.

 I love that man.

 Money - an unfortunate necessity for feeding and clothing our children.
 Love - the best earthly thing imaginable.
 My Savior - The one who helps me remember how both those things rank.

 Hopefully I can be more organized for emergencies next time. Hopefully I can avoid blood sugars of 27 in the future. Maybe we'll go without spilled milk, broken heaters, and lost coupon boxes for the rest of time.
 But I doubt it.

 And you know what, that's okay!

 Because I know, and hopefully my children know now as well, that it sometimes feels like a "horrible, terrible, no good, very bad day". But within that moment is the reminder to take a moment and give thanks for everything we take for granted.

                                              Blessings my friends,
                                 Bethany

A battered tent

"Now we know that if the earthly tent we live in is destroyed, we have a building from God, an eternal house in heaven, not built by human hands. Meanwhile, we groan, longing to be clothed with our heavenly dwelling... for while we are in this tent we groan and are burdened, because we do not wish to be unclothed, but to be clothed with our heavenly dwelling, so that what is mortal may be swallowed up by life." 2 Cor. 5:1-5

 Isn't that a beautiful promise?

 There is another verse that goes hand and hand with it -one that is slightly harder to celebrate with joy. Above is a promise. Even though it gets hard, we have heaven to look forward to, our heavenly dwelling.

 But Proverbs 16:9 says "In his heart a man plans his course, but the Lord determines his steps."

 That means we have to give up our own self-centered plans.

 We even have to give up our plans if they are not self-centered.

 Even if our plans are "godly", at least as far as we can see.

 I have a friend that I have known since college who was recently diagnosed with breast cancer. She quit blogging for awhile, not because she was in too much pain, or too overwhelmed, or didn't have time... although any of those reasons are allowed. She quit, I think in part, because she was afraid that sometime she would have fear. Sometimes she wouldn't be able to be the perfect example of trust. And people would think that she wasn't a good enough Christian.

 I am not really that close to her, and I am certainly not inside her head, but that was what I understood when she finally started writing again. And I had to comment.

 After 20 years as a diabetic, and 3 years, with the first 18 months undiagnosed, of localized partial seizures - well, plenty of people have come over to pray over me. Some I have invited. Some have pushed their way into my personal space quite forcefully. Always, always, I have put my trust in my Savior. It was easier in the early years to expect something, to expect healing.

 Now I simply wait for a moment of peace. A reminder that He is the creator of not only this earthly "tent", but has a heavenly tent waiting for me.

 But I must say that there are moments when I feel accused of not having enough faith. When I remain "sick", even though someone has prayed over me - well, it must be because I don't believe enough. I guess that gives you an idea of the kind of charismatic churches I have spent parts of my life in.

 But still, my life, my physical life, remains in HIS hands. I believe Prov. 16:9

 However, I had a really, really terrible week, medically, this past week. On Tuesday my diabetes was atrocious, and to top it off, I ran out of insulin. Totally bad planning on my part, but when your blood sugar is already 400 your emotional stability is too far gone to figure out how to solve the problem. In the middle of me sitting in the kitchen literally sobbing, Zion asked what was wrong. I was trying to tell him that Mommy was just a little sicker then usual.

 And Canaan says, "Mommy, have you tried praying about it?"

 And my heart broke. Because I wanted to scream "OF COURSE I HAVE. 8000 times. And the answer is always no."

 But I didn't scream. I even stopped crying quite as hard. And I asked him if he could please pray. I don't ever want to crush his faith, in one of my stupid moments of body failure. Because that is what it was. Body failure. When my blood sugar was 400 my ability to have faith was easily defeated by the evil one. But a simple reminder by my son, and his absolute faith, was all it took to remind me who was in charge.

 The rest of the week was still tough, physically.

 But I was able to remember that "I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me." Phil. 4:13

 And I have so much more in my life then this failing "tent"! School with my children was fantastic. We then squeezed in wonderful play time with kids down the hill, and friends from church. (It is spring break for the public school kids here) Even with my crazy medical appts I still made some delicious dinners, if I do say so myself, and right this minute there is bread in the machine that is making my tummy growl.

 Each of us have a clean slate every morning, ready to start with praise. To ask for strength, whatever comes. Forgiven, and with our Savior at our side every step of the way.

 Third Day's "Mountain of God" has been my theme song the last few days. I will leave it playing on here for the next week or so. Please, stop and listen and be lifted up.

 I'll close with one of my favorite verses. "Do not grieve, for the JOY of the Lord is your strength." Nehemiah 8:10b

 Blessings,  

One drop of blood

 When I was 12 I lost almost 20 pounds in 2 months, was tired all the time, and felt as if I couldn't get enough water no matter how much I drank.

 The simplified explanation is that my body was eating itself, rather than the food I consumed. It couldn't process the food I ate. It had lost that ability.

 A trip to the pediatrician and one simple drop of blood was all it took to change my entire life. When the doctor came into the room to tell us that I had diabetes, well, I know nothing about it. Nothing. I am pretty sure I had read a book once in which the little brother had diabetes, and had to have special attention. That was all I remembered.
 My mom wanted to know all of the things that mom's want to know. How do we treat it. What medicines are needed. What is our plan of action.
 I simply asked, "Am I going to die?"
 Which I laugh at now, because of course I am going to die. Everyone dies. I think I meant, is this going to kill me. I got an immediate assurance from the doctor that this was something that, if taken care of, I could live a long healthy life with.
 So my second question came. "Can I still have children?"
 Because that was what my goal in life was. Always.
 But you all know that!

  My parents raised us to believe that God can do anything. You see so many "evangelists" on TV putting up a lot of hype in healing services. But you don't need hype. You don't need noise. All you need is the faith to ask, and wait for Him to answer. "I tell you that if two of you on earth agree about anything you ask for, it will be done for you by my Father in heaven. For where two or three come together in my name, there am I with them." Matthew 18:19-20

 So we asked for my healing. My God can make a pancreas work again. We gathered with a group, specifically to ask for healing. I remember during that time another girl I had played with had her leg healed. Right there.
 I will never forget my mom's story: After we had gone to bed that night she couldn't sleep. She just laid there talking to God, saying, "What if I don't have enough faith? What if I keep her from being healed. What do I need to do to show my faith?"
 Like a voice of peace in her soul came the answer, "It is not what you do. It is what I have already done."
 He had already done.

 So, 20 years later, when I am still diabetic, where does that leave me?

 I actually have people question my faith sometimes.
 Goodness - I question my faith sometimes. That same question my mom chanted in her mind 20 years ago runs through mine on occasion. Is it because I don't believe hard enough?

 In "Streams in the Desert", which I quote on here often, there was an excerpt that made the book show it's age:
 "There is a self-opening gate which is sometimes used in country roads. It stands fast and firm across the road as a traveler approaches it. If he stops before he gets to it, it will not open. But if will drive right at it, his wagon wheels press the springs below the roadway, and the gate swings back to let him through. He must push right on at the closed gate, or it will continue to be closed."

 Now we have electric doors which do the same things at every Walmart, grocery, and even the library.

 But here is where my lesson comes in. Several times lately, those doors haven't opened for me. I have had to go around to the door that you pull with your own hand to open. Not the way that everyone else goes.

 Roman's 5:3-4 says "We can rejoice too when we run into problems and trials for we know that they are good for us. They help us learn to be patient. And patience develops strength of character in us and helps us trust God more each time we use it until finally our hope and faith are strong and steady."

 I can't help but say that 20 years of "trial", well, it really hasn't been that bad. I know how to combine foods into healthy meals and snacks. (not that I always do... but I know how!) I have met and bonded with other diabetics through the years, hopefully showing them Jesus. I was able to live my dream and birth two beautiful boys. I may have originally wanted more, but I trust that if it is His will, God will bring them to me in some other way. Because I am diabetic I have been to the doctor A LOT, but that has allowed them to catch several other things that are wrong with me early, and get me on the medication needed for them.

 I have said for years that the healing that God provided me wasn't visible to the human eye. It was for my heart, my attitude. Yes, I have my days when I am grumpy and just want to take my insulin pump and throw it out the window - but overall, God has given me grace to be a joyful diabetic. I have seen support groups full of people complaining and stressing. Truly, my healing is complete. I have laid my future in His hands and don't fret. That is what my faith is strong enough for. Trusting. Over and over again, forever. As He told my Mom, what He has already done. That is enough for me.

 And that door that didn't open? I had to go around, and pull a different one, but I would never say that I did that in my own strength. It might not have been an automatically opening door, but it wasn't a wall either. I can take no credit on my own strength, simply be thankful for well oiled hinges. I just needed a reminder that the path that most people take, even Christians walking where God is taking them, well, God does not have everyone going the same place at the same time.

 At the moments when those actual doors weren't working last week - I must admit I was slightly annoyed. Especially when it happened more then once. But when I read about that gate in my devotional just a few days later, I knew that Romans 8:28 applies even to the little things. "We know that all things work together for good to them that love God and are called according to His purpose."
 Doors that don't work being good. Who knew? But those words that wouldn't come - He was organizing them.

"For the Lord gives wisdom, and from His mouth come knowledge and understanding." Proverbs 2:6

                                                                         Blessings,