for love of You…

Today, while running a quick errand with my kids (is there really such a thing… a quick errand?), we were listening to Audrey Assad’s For Love of You. I haven’t listened to the CD in months; actually, I haven’t listened to much music over the course of my last year. Something broke in me along the way; music took a back seat and silence slipped in as a replacement. But just today, while listening to Audrey, I was reminded of something that I wrote a season ago before my suffering began:

~ ~ ~

{from “peace for the journey: in the pleasure of his company”, pgs. 6-7}

“Atlantica–the magical waters of mermaids and talking sea creatures–had lost its capacity to sing. Not because it didn’t hold a melody within its waters, but rather because a tragic death had beaten its drum upon her shores. Loudly and profoundly it marched, sending song’s breath to a watery grave, to be buried deeply within the unseen sands of an untouched grief.

Pain does that. It buries. It may burst forth in all manner of wild expressions at the time of sorrow, but it almost always finds a way to, at least temporarily, suspend the song. When death of any kind marches its cadence upon the soil of our souls, it buries. It digs deeply and cries hard and grasps for fragments of control that don’t allow the music its voice. 

But here is the truth of the eternal song. Once the music has made its way into a heart no amount of throwing and crying and denying its pulse can keep it buried forever. We can go to the grave refusing it a voice, but in the end, the music remains. It will find is chorus, even without our participation, because the King’s music is meant to be sung.”  

~ ~ ~

All of this to say, friends, the music is returning to my soul, one note at a time. Today I heard its chorus sung through Audrey’s beautiful voice. A simple grace given to me by the King whose melody remains, despite our suffering seasons. Even so, Lord Jesus, come and sing your song through me.

~elaine
PS: Be sure to join me on Monday for a review and give-away of Joanne Kraft’s first book release, “Just Too Busy!” Shalom.

zoo thoughts…

zoo thoughts…

We took our young kids to the zoo last week. Despite the blistering temperatures and the long walks in between exhibits, I managed to have a few, chewing-on kind of thoughts as I went.

Eden isn’t as far away as we might think; it’s approaching our souls, even now…

 

No one but God could paint this one; he stands alone and high above the rest as a witness to the Creator’s creative pulse…

Sometimes a barrier allows us a bravery and a beauty not yet realized…

 

One day, I will ride one of these…

One day I will sleep with one of these…
 

One day, flamingo duty will be just fine with me…

This is, indeed, my beautiful “pink” season…

My kids will not be kids forever…

 

But my kids will always be my favorites of God’s created! I’ll be spending some extended time with them over the next few weeks… getting to know them all over again and trying to catch up with their childhoods. 

Indeed, Eden is closer now than ever before. Better grab it as it comes, friends! I love you each one. As always…

Peace for the journey,
~elaine

It’s been a while since I’ve made mention of my book, “peace for the journey”; I’m not into self-promotion. That being said, when a blogging friend takes the time to give my book a mention… takes the time to invest some of her energy with my words, then I am honored to share her thoughts with you. Click on this link to read Nancy’s post. Leave a comment there, and I’ll have Nancy select a winner to receive an autographed copy. Shalom!

PS: To order a copy visit Amazon or the Resource tab.

Cancer Survivor’s Picnic… my toast to hope

Cancer Survivor’s Picnic… my toast to hope

There are a few things I’d like to tell you about today. They’ll make better sense if you have the opportunity to watch the video. I’ll give you ample time; I need a break from writing this week so that I can spend some concentrated time of resting with my Father. We have a great many things to discuss.

First, I specifically felt your prayers over this past week. I am grateful and humbled by your kind words; I needed them. They made all the difference for me as I sought to prepare my thoughts and, then, to deliver them with the full peace and assurance of God.

Secondly, last night as I was reading in Romans, I came across this verse in 10:20. Words first spoken by the prophet Isaiah and then reiterated by Paul:

“And Isaiah boldly says, ‘I was found by those who did not seek me; I revealed myself to those who did not ask for me.'” 
After reading those words, I bowed my head and prayed this very prayer over those who would attend today’s event. I talked to the Lord about all the people who might show up at the picnic–in particular those not intent on seeking God, much less asking anything of him, but those whom he might so willingly and graciously reveal himself to in unexpected and unanticipated ways. That is the single prayer I carried with me as I marked the hours prior to my speaking.
{Patsy, Cancer Center Social Worker… one of the kindest people I’ve met}
Thirdly, there came a strange moment for me early on in my speaking. The microphone wasn’t situated close to the tents where the attendees had gathered around tables beneath the sweltering heat of a North Carolina afternoon. I couldn’t see the faces of those sitting beyond the first row of tables. Of course, my family was in view, but my eyes fixed, instead, on a woman sitting to the left of them at the edge of the tent’s shading. She wore sunglasses, but she looked oddly familiar… like one of you, a twin maybe. And I thought to myself, “Did Sassy Granny fly all the way from Washington to hear me speak today?”
I could tell she connected with me throughout the course of my speaking. Several nods, smiles, and encouraging glances were sent my direction; I made a mental note to seek her out at a later time, but I never saw her again. She helped me, reminding me of Sassy and all of you as well. It was as if you were saying, “We’re with you, Elaine… yesterday, today, and for the long haul.” 
Thirdly, as I was talking about survivorship, I carried the memory of my friend Jeff with me; he went home to Jesus this past week. Jeff was a cancer survivor and valiantly lived each day with godly intention. Cancer was not his undoing; rather the threshold of his emerging… whole, healthy, and home to Canaan with the morning dew of Eden to greet his stride and with the company of his Creator at his side.
I also thought of you, Joy, a cancer survivor as well. You begin your journey with chemotherapy in the morning, and I can say to you as well, “Cancer will not be your undoing, sister; rather cancer will be the threshold of your emerging.”
Lastly, I met some wonderful “survivors” today; in particular two people. A woman named Jennifer whose breast cancer has returned for a second time, this time in her liver; an eighteen-year-old-boy named Wayne, a testicular cancer survivor. I was reminded, yet again, of the fragility of life… of how each day should be memorialized with grateful thanks for the earthly tenure I’ve been allowed.

{Joyce, one of my chemo-friends; we adore Nurse Sarah; we miss her as well!}
Entrusted with a story… with Jesus as my “next.” He’s your “next” as well. Take hold of your moments this week, friends; plant some kingdom seed, and live each day like you mean it. I’ll see you on the other side of a much needed break. As always…
Peace for the journey,

PS: The winners of Cindy’s cards are Lidj and Cheryl! Girls, please look over Cindy’s cards again and let me know which two are your favorites. Email me your selections. My e-mail has been acting up in recent days, so if you haven’t heard back from me in a while, then chances are I haven’t received your e-mail. We’ll work things out somehow.

surviving…

Funny how life seems to be laughing at me sometimes. Trust me when I tell you the hilarity is a one-sided affair. I don’t find anything remotely amusing about the predicament I’m in—a responsibility given to me months ago and one I willingly embraced when called upon. Little did I know back then what would be required of me to follow-through in the “right now.”

This coming Sunday.

Me, the keynote speaker for Cape Fear Valley Hospital’s annual Cancer Survivor Picnic.

And here’s the funny part—the moment where the joke cycles back on me. Where the taunting begins. Where the fullness of my previous “yes” weighs heavily upon my back and filters through my mind like shrapnel released from an exploding cannon.

It doesn’t seem that I’m doing very well with my surviving… cancer or otherwise. Some days are just getting through days; some days just pushing through days. Some days just wondering and wandering through days. And I feel so ill-equipped to say much of anything on the topic of survivorship. Certainly, I’ve had a few ideas over the past several months; I’ve chronicled a great many of them before you. But today, just a few days away from Sunday, words fail me.

And that is a very hard thing for me. Why? Because I don’t want them to be just any words. I want to mean them when I speak them. I don’t want to waste this occasion with my “blah, blah, blah” breast cancer dialogue. I want my words to speak better. To lift higher. To raise a toast to hope, not to the current getting through, pushing through, wandering through I’ve been feeling as of late. More than anything, I want to be a hope-giver, but friends, in these recent days, my heart has been living apart from hope. My heart has been simmering just above survival. And it’s been a confusing, confrontational mess.

I’m not sure what’s to blame. Maybe hormones, or lack therein. Maybe the summer heat. Maybe a full house and no room to think. Maybe an accumulation of a great many things. Regardless of the agitators, the end result doesn’t look much like hopeful survival. Rather, more like a gradual surrender to a deep wounding—to a healing process that is going to take far longer than what I had imagined.

Is survival really survival when so much hurt exists inside? When getting through, pushing through, and wandering through is the best you can do? Is that survival? Is that enough to move a day’s doing into the win column? Shouldn’t survival be based on more? Shouldn’t the qualifiers read better? Part of me thinks so; the other part of me, perhaps a lesser part, is willing to cut me some slack.

I’m having a hard time deciding about my days, friends, and I’m having a really hard time reasoning out the hospital’s choice for a speaker this year. I want to rise above the current confusion to deliver a strong confirmation about the hope that I profess to believe. I want this coming Sunday to count for heaven’s sake, not mine. Otherwise, what is the point? Really, what is the point?

Platforms are meant for Jesus; not me. Still and yet, there’s one awaiting my presence this weekend. A grace so undeserved, especially for one who’s just getting through, pushing through, and wandering through these days… wondering if my wrestling brings enough credibility to the discussion of true survivorship.

I know what most of you will say, my kind readers, and I appreciate your affirmation in advance. But I don’t want to just receive your words; I want to firmly believe them. I’ve come to depend on them, for we are the body of Christ. We are pilgrims together on this road of faith, walking side by side and held together by our strong foundation, Jesus Christ. You will be standing with me this Sunday when I step before the microphone and speak my story. You are part of my story, and even when words have failed me, you have not. You share in my survivorship, and I will carry your strength with me throughout this week.

Thank you for not laughing at me when I cry; thank you for not crying when I so desperately need to laugh. But mostly, thank you for giving me a safe place to release my feelings. I’m in a vulnerable position right now, a raw and uprooted place, but I’m still here… getting through, pushing through, wondering and wandering though.

Perhaps in the end, maybe enough of a definition of true survivorship.

Peace for the journey,
~elaine
PS: Winners for the notecards will be picked with my next post. There’s still time to join in; see previous post “PS:” for details.

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