The wins in life

This is, by light years, probably the most awkward post I've ever scribbled, but I think it's worth the write. I'm not exactly the sharing type. Okay, in fact, I'm the polar opposite. Sure, I clutter up the Facebook newsfeed with silly tidbits from my wild and crazy,  almost unbelievable, could-easily-be-a-sitcom life, but I keep most of my own true realities off the world wide web...

...until today, because sometimes, good news is worth repeating. Often times we hear of the struggles and the troubles, but the "wins" in life don't always get much of a stage. I have an opinion concerning that scenario, but I'll save it for a rainy day.  So without any further ado, ladies and gentlemen, I bring you some really, really good news.

It's been an odd year. Not too many months in, I noticed weird changes in my body. Subtle, at first, and then gradually, more demanding of my attention. Finally one evening I decided my stubbornness would have to resign to the necessity of being fully alive, awake, and aware of my surroundings.

I made an appointment with my doctor, who ordered a batch of tests and sent me on down the hall to the next doctor. That doctor interpreted the results and suggested I see doctor number three, who then wanted her own set of diagnostics. By that point, it was September, the battle had raged for three months, and I was particularly tired of imaging tubes and blood draws. I was weary of the process, and then one morning the doctor walked in the room and said, "I have bad news. You're going to need surgeries."

I'm a, "break it to me gently," type of gal. You know, the type that gradually wakes up to fifteen alarms in the morning and prefers to exchange niceties and small talk before engaging in deep or serious conversations. When the doctor walked in and said, "I have bad news," straight off the cuff, I was caught totally and completely off guard. I hadn't prepared for that type of conversation, and I couldn't bring myself to focus on anything other than her crooked haircut.

She left me with a referral to Barnes Jewish hospital in St. Louis, and finally, in early November, I saw a brain surgeon there. Much to my delight, he gave me the surgical all clear. I could confuse you with a list of long-lettered words, but very simply put, my brain doesn't look like a textbook example. There's some minor discrepancies between the opinions of the neurologist and neurosurgeon, but at the end of the day, my good 'ole thinker doesn't require any surgical intervention, and I am happy about that!

Having cleared the first major hurdle, I starred at the base of mountain number two. All of my treating physicians were in agreement that an appointment with a spinal surgeon was in order. After having a massive spinal fusion in 2007, I was anything but excited about the possibility of additional surgery.

That catches us up to the last ten days. On a whim, I decided to do some investigative research on the whereabouts of my previous spine surgeon, though I was led to believe he was no longer practicing medicine. Thanks to Google and a few keystrokes, I was able to locate him in Denver. I placed a call to his office, and things fell perfectly into place from the first hello. I talked to a receptionist who was very interested in my story. She talked with the doctor, and he offered to review my latest diagnostics and schedule a consultation in December. A trip to the local medical records office and seven bucks later, all of my latest imaging and treatment reports were en route to a doctor who's not only very familiar with my case, but is also rated one of the top surgeons in his field. I wasn't sure what would come of his review, but I trusted his judgment, and with that, the hundredth game of "hurry up and wait" began.

Meanwhile, I had two more doctor appointments and a blood draw. For the first time in seven months, my lab results came back completely normal. I wish I had sufficient verbiage to explain the magnificence or significance of that victory, but 26 letters just isn't enough. I was indeed quite thankful, but little did I know, the best news was yet to come.

I was tying up some odds and ends at the office yesterday afternoon when my phone rang. Much to my surprise, my Denver based surgeon spoke up on the other end. I'll be honest- my heart skipped a few beats. I figured in the world of medicine, a phone call from the doctor himself probably meant anything but good news. We exchanged niceties and I prepared myself for the worst. He asked questions and explained the last seven months of diagnoses better than anyone I've spoken to yet. After our ten minute exchange, his recommendation was as follows:

This (blah, blah, blah, insert formal diagnostic label here) isn't anything new. In fact, it was present eight years ago when we did the first fusion. The other treating physicians probably haven't seen much of it, hence their cause for concern, but being familiar with your case, it's nothing that alarms me. Your latest imaging looks fair. The best thing you can do is stay healthy, stay mobile, incorporate some strength training into your routine, be nice to your body, and let's do anything we can to avoid another fusion.

Doctor, we have a deal!

He gave a few more suggestions, my heart skipped a few more excited beats, we ended our conversation wishing the other a happy holiday season, and just like that, a giant weight was lifted.

Now, of course, none of this is without provision, but we're talking about the difference between mountains and mole hills. Mountains that would have included multiple hospitalizations, surgeries, home health care, an extended recovery period, and a shaved head and ugly scars as the added bonus. Comparatively, everything else is a walk in the park.

I'd be a total and complete liar if I led you to believe I've walked through the last months with this overwhelming peace and righteous attitude about the trials and tribulations, because that was not always the case. However, I can say with complete assurance and total honesty that God proved Himself faithful over and over and over again.

I'm reminded of one particular afternoon that I was stuck at home fighting a case of the blues when a worship song I wasn't familiar with (Breathe You In by Bryan and Katie Torwalt) came across my Pandora station. The whole thing was good, but these particular few lines flooded my heart with sweet invitation:

And when I don't understand, I will choose you.
When I don't understand, I will choose to love you, God.
And you are good, God.
You are good to me.

Choice. Everything boils down to choice, and I want to choose well.

Psalm 27: A Psalm of Fearless Trust in God
The Lord is my light and my salvation;
Whom shall I fear?
The Lord is the defense of my life;
Whom shall I dread?
² When evildoers came upon me to devour my flesh,
My adversaries and my enemies, they stumbled and fell.
³ Though a host encamp against me,
My heart will not fear;
Though war arise against me,
In spite of this I shall be confident.

⁴ One thing I have asked from the Lord, that I shall seek:
That I may dwell in the house of the Lord all the days of my life,
To behold the beauty of the Lord
And to meditate in His temple.
⁵ For in the day of trouble He will conceal me in His tabernacle;
In the secret place of His tent He will hide me;
He will lift me up on a rock.
⁶ And now my head will be lifted up above my enemies around me,
And I will offer in His tent sacrifices with shouts of joy;
I will sing, yes, I will sing praises to the Lord.

⁷ Hear, O Lord, when I cry with my voice,
And be gracious to me and answer me.
⁸ When You said, “Seek My face,” my heart said to You,
“Your face, O Lord, I shall seek.”
⁹ Do not hide Your face from me,
Do not turn Your servant away in anger;
You have been my help;
Do not abandon me nor forsake me,
O God of my salvation!
¹⁰ For my father and my mother have forsaken me,
But the Lord will take me up.

¹¹ Teach me Your way, O Lord,
And lead me in a level path
Because of my foes.
¹² Do not deliver me over to the desire of my adversaries,
For false witnesses have risen against me,
And such as breathe out violence.
¹³ I would have despaired unless I had believed that I would see the goodness of the Lord
In the land of the living.
¹⁴ Wait for the Lord;
Be strong and let your heart take courage;
Yes, wait for the Lord.

A puppy and our hearts: A shared story of relief

I'm a dog lover. If you've ever met me or followed me on Facebook, this comes as no surprise to you. Quite naturally, then, you might assume I'm a sucker for strays, and again, you would be absolutely correct.  

Yesterday my dad brought me a dumped puppy from his farm, and as I do, I brought it home to clean it up and love on it a bit before rehoming the sweet baby. As we processed through the evening, my heart grasped the most beautiful picture of redemption and restoration. God's timing is indescribably perfect. 

From what I can gather, Mocha (the puppy) was abandoned and left to die. She came to me starved, sick, shivering, and covered in fleas and ticks. She didn't know me, but could probably only sense I was much bigger than her, and resembled that of which previously discarded her. She had no reason to trust me, and I certainly didn't blame her.

As I placed her in the tub, she didn't  initially understand the difference between a warm bath and a mid-November rain storm. Her previous experiences with water probably weren't all that great. I knew and well understood the bath was for her benefit. I had a plan to rid her of the dirt and dust and bugs, but she only sensed she was about to be wet...again. I literally sat and talked out loud to this pup about how we were washing away her old life and starting down a new path. She wasn't trash anymore; she was receiving a new name, a new identity, and a new start. She was finally going to be clean and warm and wanted. Obviously, she's a dog, so she didn't comprehend a single word I spoke to her, but her lack of understanding didn't change the reality of her rescue. 

After her bath, I started the seemingly insurmountable task of debugging her. Some of the ticks were buried so deep that her skin was tender, swollen, and infected. She whimpered and cried as I dug the ticks out one by one. Again, she didn't understand my intentions. Yes, I was inflicting some pain, but it was purposeful. My efforts weren't to cause her more suffering, but instead to very deliberately take what was hurting, remove the root cause, and in turn, make her healthy again. It was redemption on a grand scale, but it didn't come without a price. While she only saw the pain, I saw the payoff.

Finally, I took her through this whole process only to leave her in the bathroom and turn out the light (she's most likely contagious, and I couldn't risk making the other babies sick). Instinctually, she probably felt alone and vulnerable...again. What she didn't understand was that I was just on the other side of that door. She was in my house now, and she was safe. She could let her guard down. She could rest. She may not have sensed it, but I was there all the while, listening for her cries. Through her literal, bathroom light out and door shut darkness, she wasn't alone.

I laid in bed last night overwhelmed at the goodness of God. He knows, and He sees. Wow.

Our lives may often times resemble Mocha's. Maybe we're in need of an obvious rescue from a catastrophic life...or maybe not. Maybe we're just desperate for a less apparent, but equally as profound rescue from our own hearts, minds, or the mundane life. You see, there's this ridiculous misconception that if you're not on drugs, in jail, working the streets, or living under a bridge, that redemption and restoration aren't necessary. I disagree.

Jesus cares about every part of us- even our hearts- our real hearts. Good, bad, pretty, ugly, or indifferent, He's "all in," if you will. We weren't just redeemed once at the cross, though that alone would be sufficient. I truly believe with every ounce and fiber of my being that God is in the business of our continual redemption. Be encouraged by that. Whatever part it is in you that He's calling out, trust Him. He's just on the other side of that door, and I promise you, His intentions are always good.

The Spirit of the Lord God is upon me, because the Lord has anointed me to bring good news to the afflicted; He has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim liberty to the captives and freedom to prisoners; to proclaim the favorable year of the Lord and the day of vengeance of our God; To comfort all who mourn, to grant those who mourn in Zion, giving them a garland instead of ashes, the oil of gladness instead of mourning, the mantle of praise instead of a spirit of fainting (Isaiah 61:1-3).