Monthly Archives: October 2014

October 26, 2014 · 10:28 pm

Shadows (Beneath His Wings, I Find Refuge)

For the Sunday before I returned to CCU for my sophomore year, I was asked if I would sign Casting Crown’s “Praise You In This Storm” as part of the morning worship leading to the sermon.  I said I would pray about it, because at that point in my spiritual life, me and God were not on speaking terms…I was almost angry at Him because I was not being given any answers about my physical pains and wanted them! I was being a selfish teenager all over again. So when they asked me to sign the song, I was at odds; I felt fake and even though I was still not keen on the aspect that people would be seeing me sign but not seeing what my heart was holding in brokenness, I agreed. What I experienced was life changing: raw worship. God patiently waited for me to meet Him all summer, and standing by the pulpit as the music played–my arms moved to the words, but I was not there in thought. I was staring at the back wall, sobbing and told God that this is what I wanted, to praise Him in the storms.

That Sunday was a defining moment in my faith, pertaining to my physical thoughts. Thinking back,my life has been filled with raw worship–raw: leaving me vulnerable, humbled, changed through both the joys and tears. I am still learning and this weekend was no different than any other, besides what God revealed to me in one word (well two, sort of linked together), songs and a verse from Psalm 57 written on an index card, adorned with a sticker of two white swans on the water.

Be gracious to me, O God, be gracious to me,

For my soul takes refuge in Thee.

And in the shadow of Thy wings, I will take refuge,

Until destruction passes by.” ~Psalm 57:1

A few days after my signing experience, we were given some answers from Children’s Hospital as they examined my MRI again. I headed to Denver for the fall semester and had one of the best of college years! The day my family dropped me off and helped me unload my masses of stuff on the second floor room, my Mom handed me a thick envelope and told me not to open it until they had left. I didn’t wait long after I waved them a farewell from my window (which faced the parking lot) and inside the envelope, I found a long letter and the biggest stack of small index cards each with stickers and verses, all hand written. Mom might not have known at the time how much these cards would be my daily small reminders of the truths and promises I can cling to in any circumstance.

I have to admit, I am getting tired of talking about my vision and I am sure you are ready to hear something new. But until after my eye appointment on Tuesday (finally), I think God is preparing me for the next step, that I do not know what it will be…but as I see, the “waiting to see if the optic nerve will decrease in swelling” period is over. Because the longer I wait, the more my eyes go in a direction that is seeming to show that there is still obvious swelling; it just may be this way and while my vision remains, I want to see more clearly (hence glasses). Although even with glasses, my vision will be off, because the light and dark has changed. I have said it before that it is like looking through a grey veil; but after a  Skype conversation with my cousin, I found a better word: shadow.

“I can still see,” I say as I demonstrate on the video chat holding down my left eye. “But what I see is in the light, everything else is like in shadows.” I read Mom’s index card the next day. It started to make sense…the image of the swans’ wings, just thinking of being protected under big wings…but then I thought of God and in Him there is no darkness, so even though I am under His shadow, I am in Light. I was in the midst of finishing Martin Smith’s autobiography, Delirious: My Journey with the Band, a Growing Family, and an Army of History Makers, so the worship songs were fresh in mind as I was reading how sings were penned in different circumstances, lessons or God moments. One stood out among the rest–“Did You eel the Mountains Tremble?” and in the second verse, it sings,

Do you feel the darkness tremble?
When all the saints join in one song
And all the streams flow as one river
To wash away our brokeness

*Words by Martin Smith

Like I said, I don’t know what God is teaching me in this, but I just feel it is preparing me for something, whether Tuesday or elsewhere down the road…and because I’ve chosen to dwell in refuge under the Shadow of God’s Wings, the Darkness trembles.

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October 23, 2014 · 6:15 pm

Facial Expressions

The other evening, Dad took me out for a dinner and dessert date at the local Stoney Creek Roasters in town. I was expecting a full house of students studying, but it was seemingly a quieter evening, until we started leaving at the end. I should have thought “college time”–studying in a coffee shop that is open until midnight starts around 8 p.m. Oh the days those were, such memories! 🙂

Anyway, when we got inside there was a few people in the order line, so Dad and I went into the ice cream room to see what flavors they had and get a head start in decision of what we would want for dessert. It didn’t take me long…I chose Sticky Bun. It just sounded good. We got back in the main line and since they didn’t have the potato soup that night, I had to read the menu. Understand, even now, my computer screen is zoom on 200%, so that I can type and see my errors without squinting. The menu wasn’t bad…it had dark bold letters, but when reading anything not on a screen, the hard part is finding the focus point–where the two eyes meet and see clear.  Once I have it, I must hold it or I start the process all over again. Such was the case in the menu, and I guess it might have also looked a bit strange that I held the sheet right at my nose. I could read turkey and ham, but the sandwich options otherwise were hard to distinguish. I did read “sauerkraut” and quickly skipped that line and just settled for a the turkey, bacon with some sort of dill cream spread.

Dad and I had a good time. We didn’t turn many discussion topics, because the ones we did discuss, half the time Dad was finger-spelling and I was playing Crosswords in my head putting the words together and getting the story down. Dad was very patient. It did cause for some good laughs too. Dad went to get our ice cream while I finished my sandwich. I was pretty proud that my first half had survived mass chaos–bread is my downfall in eating. It doesn’t matter if it is a bun, breadstick, tortilla, toast, sandwich–it is all the same–not only do my hands have a hard time holding in a proper grip, but I also can’t just bite down…I have to wiggle my teeth to get the bite, which causes the bread to move and the grip to fail and you get the picture. I’m a messy eater when it comes to bread.

I am ungracefully finishing my delicious second half when I notice college students have started to surround the room. There was a guy seated two tables over who looked to be in serious thought as he took a sip from his large coffee cup and looked around the room. Dad wasn’t back yet and I suddenly felt embarrassed. My napkin had been very well used, but on my last few bites, the dill spread had oozed out all over my right hand. I always have bad timing in social aspects and don’t purposefully try to appear as an ungraceful eater, but the moment I am licking my fingers is the moment I noted the college boy sweeping gaze around the room and I know he saw me. I quickly grab my napkin that isn’t helping much and gain my composure…then it dawns on me…without glasses, I can’t see people’s facial expressions unless they are right in front of me. I smiled and sort of wanted to clap my hands in delight, because for once, it didn’t matter if he saw me licking my fingers and gave a look of shock or disgust or amusement or maybe nothing at all; but for me, it was a changing thought.

I won’t lie–even though I can hardy see details of me in the mirror, I still struggle with being self- conscience–shifting more to the effects of my disability state when in public places. But why should that matter…why should I be so self-conscience of what others “see” when they do not see the whole picture. Even I can’t. And because I have no control over my physical state, why should I consume my mind with thoughts of how to control it otherwise? It’s extraness. I need to remember what is truly important, what truly matters.

What am I gonna be when I grow up?
How am I gonna make my mark in history?
And what are they gonna write about me when I’m gone?
These are the questions that shape the way I think about what matters

But I have no guarantee of my next heartbeat
And my world’s too big to make a name for myself
And what if no one wants to read about me when I’m gone?
Seems to me that right now’s the only moment that matters

You know the number of my days
So come paint Your pictures on the canvas in my head
And come write Your wisdom on my heart
And teach me the power of a moment

*Taken from song, “Power of a Moment.” Chris Rice. Past the Edges.

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October 20, 2014 · 11:59 pm

A Poem

This morning as I made my bed, I got to rhyming in my head

It’s rare for me to think this way, but somehow this morning started in a different way.

The sun was shining on the leaves, as they fluttered aimlessly in the breeze

I thought about the day before, when every aspect in physical body seemed like a chore.

Evening is when company came, and the routine was much the same

Sit in the middle recliner chair, head twisting left and right in the air…

Trying to follow along with no success, it didn’t help my mental helplessness.

After a cup of evening tea, I excused myself to be with just me

And stay awake, dismissing all thoughts of what’s physically at stake.

With nose in book, compliments of my Nook.

Tired eyes finally shut for the night, like the outside darkened skies.

So what changed in my slumbering, that made this day more worth remembering?

It certainly was not any easier, and that should be no brain teaser

I was still clumsy and in times a bit grumpy, yet was loved all the same…

The action verb for this word, kindness is its name

I do not have to earn or give in return, but as tomorrow comes

I’ll remember the night, the sun and leaves in the breeze, the kindness shown in Love…

See above my low and helpless state, fully appreciate

The day, the moment, my grey and veiled eyes flutter open…

Try singing instead of grumbling,

Because the Greatest Kindness, my Jesus has shown, and His grace and mercy my heart has made its own.

A reason for living, in kindness, in giving.

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October 16, 2014 · 9:58 pm

“What are your needs?”

I don’t know why or when I started this,, but somewhere along the spring days into summer, I started greeting Muffy with the question, “What are your needs?” Depending on the time of day or weather conditions or my own jolly (or not) attitude, my question is the same and I usually know what his needs are–food, being pet, or wanting inside. He sits at the back patio steps and when you walk past, he glances at the door knob, as if hoping it magically opens the door when we do not follow through with his requests of a cute “meow” gesture. Muffy is easy to lip-read.

At first, the question was just a funny randomness my family listened to me say, probably more times than their wanting in a day. They still hear, “Good grief,” or an occasional, “Epic fail!” My new favorite is quite studious, “Ludicrous!” Then in utter frustration, I laugh. Muffy’s question is now somewhat a joke on me. Not that we say it as a joke, but it makes the frustrating moments more at ease with a smile, if even just for the moment. Where Muffy’s needs are obvious, mine are not–and I still have a hard time communicating them.

“Thus disease is helping me be assertive,” I tell Marcia in our conversation this morning. I said it in a victory chant fashion, and when I looked across the table, Marcia’s facial expression said it all: no. I quickly added, “I am learning.” That sounded more accurate. I am not an assertive person; it conflicts with my personality. Even trying my hardest, I rank high in the daily needs. As my head reads the not-yet-asked-for-help needs list, I stand with hand clenched to the walker and do a “I hate being so needy!” dance…just bopping up and down as if doing PT exercises. Becoming dependent is where Satan is using my personality against me as I learn to let go of myself. I don’t like being assertive, because I don’t want to be bossy or offend. I like to help, not feel like a needy burden. Guilt is my number one enemy in this disease.

As I learn to speak my needs, I find myself in thoughts of how I can meet the needs for others. “Meeting needs” is like the phrase, “having a job.” I think in physical, tangible terms…probably because those are my needs. When I had to end my working days at Target, I struggled with not having “a job.” My personality and self-conscience was afraid of what other people would think– I didn’t want to just be one of those “unemployed, twenty-something-aged kid” loving at home. I see now the pride in that and I have been completely humbled in living at home; the sacrifices made by my family to met my needs can be more than a job for them. Yet they never complain…even when it is not the best of situations.

I believe God made us needy. We need each other and most importantly, we need Him. God desires for me to be close to Him, telling Him my needs and He listens–yet, even as I speak, I must be still and listen. God always meets my needs, even if I don’t ask or often in better ways than I would have imagined; a parallel…I see this in how my physical needs are met through others. As I verbally share my needs, I must work harder at being still–“listening” with my heart to respond–in hopes that God can somehow meet an unseen need in their life through me, just being me.

Salt and Light by Amy Grant and Wes King

 

We all need a little salt, need a little light

Need a hopeful word, shining bright–

We can be a little salt, be a little light

In this darkened world,

We can shine, oh oh, shine so bright

Shine, oh oh, just like the starlight,

Shine, oh oh, shine

Shine, oh oh, shine…the light.

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October 12, 2014 · 9:24 pm

Waiting Seems Like Forever

Disappointed. I guess that is, or at least was, the best word to describe my neuro ophthalmologist appointment on Friday. Although things were not a complete shock, per say. I have been through enough vision changes over the year to notice differences–even the small ones. The past week before my appointment, I was having some blur in my left eye, not a cataract style…although I do have a time with dry eyes. This is the darkened blur at the top of the eye, as if you were looking upward. It was like this before surgery. It is not constant, yet, but it does affect my lip-reading at times. With my right eye still so grey vision, I think I depend on the left still more than I realize, which could be a factor–like stress–to the eye, but I had also restarted getting bad headaches on the left side of my head, once making my eye pound like a heartbeat, and I knew something was not the same.

At the appointment, the usual questions were asked and I always give a full update, in full detail. I probably talk too much. As I tried to read the letters on the mirror, reflecting from the opposite wall, my right eye got “E.” And “HB.” Since I couldn’t get past that on good guess, we switched to lines: horizontal, vertical and diagonal… all different widths, but I could distinguish them–minus the fact I would say “vertical” even though I knew it was horizontal. The assistant finally had me utilize sign and show in hand motions what direction I saw on the screen. How embarrassing! 🙂 My left eye read down to where there are four or five letters in the row. I have never been much farther than there anyway, so I was pleased (even though I squinted).

Because the past few appointments have focused heavily on my right eye, I wasn’t thinking much besides trying to keep my left eye open, as my doctor shined his bright light and special looking-glass in my eye for a longer time than the usual. Lip reading in green as my eyes adjusted, all I got was that he wanted me to wait another six weeks, if I could, before getting new glasses. I felt disappointed, like healing takes forever…and my body keeps changing regardless. My doctor desires the wait, because my left optic nerve is more swollen, yet my vision has improved; my right optic nerve has improved since surgery, but the vision has not. I don’t understand my eyes, but I see wisdom in my doctor’s advice to wait–there is always hope that there could more healing, with a balance of optic nerves and vision improvement.

And I know there could be other changes, with no improvement. I have no control of either. It is where faith and hope intertwine, even in pain and suffering. There are days of longing, for healing. Waiting for that day may seem like forever, yet, I have been given one life to live; Jesus came so that I could have life to the full (John 10:10).

In Christ Alone 

In Christ alone my hope is found
He is my light, my strength, my song
This Cornerstone, this solid ground
Firm through the fiercest drought and storm
What heights of love, what depths of peace
When fears are stilled, when strivings cease
My Comforter, my All in All
Here in the love of Christ I stand

In Christ alone, who took on flesh
Fullness of God in helpless babe
This gift of love and righteousness
Scorned by the ones He came to save
‘Til on that cross as Jesus died
The wrath of God was satisfied
For every sin on Him was laid
Here in the death of Christ I live

There in the ground His body lay
Light of the world by darkness slain
Then bursting forth in glorious Day
Up from the grave He rose again
And as He stands in victory
Sin’s curse has lost its grip on me
For I am His and He is mine
Bought with the precious blood of Christ

No guilt of life, no fear in death
This is the power of Christ in me
From life’s first cry to final breath
Jesus commands my destiny
No power of hell, no scheme of man
Can ever pluck me from His hand
‘til He returns or calls me home
Here in the power of Christ I’ll stand

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October 7, 2014 · 9:13 pm

Plum or Pumpkin?

It was my first outing since eye surgery. Just an afternoon with Mom and Marcia looking in different stores for items on our lists of needs, ending with Target, which is where all my shopping took place. I usually grab a basket, place it on top of my walker and push it like a cart. But I needed grocery items this trip a well, so after getting me a regular cart, Mom just took my walker back to the car. All set with my list, I headed towards the pharmacy and food section feeling pretty confident. Shopping would be fast, because without glasses, I have no reason to stand and contemplate on all my options; I had what I wanted in mind and figured I should just stick to that until I could see better.

All excited, I come to the produce section. As I pass by a refrigerated section on my way to get fresh veggies, I notice there is coffee creamier in the case; not in its usual section, I scoot my cart back over for a glance. It’s the seasonal selection! Intrigued, I stopped to contemplate. They had Peppermint Mocha–too early, I save it for after Thanksgiving. There were three others: Pumpkin Butter, Pumpkin Spice and one that I read as Plum Cake. Between the two pumpkin flavors, I decided Pumpkin Butter sounded too sweet, so I grabbed the other. Finding Plum Cake an interesting flavor, I added it my cart, along with a regular Sweet Cream for when we use flavored coffee beans.

I finish my list efficiently, considering my eye was still only fluttering half-open most of the time and when I finished the food section, I make my way back towards the front. I only needed a new trash can for my bathroom, and to my surprise,, managed to meet Mom on the isle leading to that section. “Find everything?” she asks. I comment the need for the trash can, then excitedly tell her of my creamier findings: “Look at this flavor! Plum cake!”  Glancing at where I am pointing, Mom gives a sympathetic smile and reports, “Oh. It’s Rum Cake.” Bummer. I bought it anyway. 🙂 Thinking now, Plum Cake creamier would probably be disgusting. Besides, according to Mother Goose, Little Jack Horner sat in a corner eating a plum pie–not plum cake. So much for contemplating.

. . .

Yesterday, I painted. I painted a pumpkin since my hands cannot carve a pumpkin. It was a very interesting experience and gave me an appreciation for those who spend quality time painting their dried gourds. I can’t say I have the desire to paint any more veggies, but it was new and different. And looks like a plum.

IMG_5747

 

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October 5, 2014 · 7:33 pm

Chill Winds

It seems to have changed overnight. We went from mid-70’s, shorts and tee-shirt attire to pants, sweaters, and scarves all in one weekend. Suddenly, Mom is pulling the remainder of her tomatoes from the garden before frost sets and soup is now a comfort food…it fits the atmosphere, the season, like a cup of tea in the evening…there are good things in every season. I just have to see them with a better attitude.

I haven’t seen it here–which has surprised me: birds migrating. I saw flocks of birds migrating south to warmer weather in Colorado. As the weather suddenly changed here, I thought of the migrations…the flight–almost escape–from the present condition to warmer, winter luxury days. I almost envied it, because I have no escape from my present condition, no luxury of easy days ahead.

And the thought came to mind: “So this is it. This is what it is.” I knew the right eye surgery would not fix everything, but maybe I was hoping for more. It seems that my entire body took a sudden change, like the weather–it just did with no warning and now it is different. I was trying to retrieve a small container of trail mix from the pantry the other evening and was having problems gripping the container while balancing, practically dropping it all to the floor. It is a common sight. But as I turned to grab my walker handles, Mom was behind me. Already having a frustrating day, I mumbled, “If this is what it is going to be like for the rest of my life, it stinks.”

The next day I was typing a letter to my cousin who, at age fourteen, said a few ideas about what she wanted to be when she grew up, but wasn’t sure. I sat contemplating thoughts, because I am still at that stage in my own life…not necessarily what I want to be (I have plenty of those old dreams), but what God needs me to be. What am I supposed to be doing with my life, because the world around me is moving and people’s lives seem migrating from one thing to the next and I feel I often just sit missing something.

After much thought and looking at my own heart, I responded:

You said you don’t know what you want to be when you grow up and that is okay. I am 12 years older than you and find myself out of the “world of work” not knowing what I am supposed to be doing and often get frustrated or antsy that I have what I see as limitations. It is not easy, but I am learning to see that there is so much work we can do every day for God if I let go of what I had always dreamed for myself of a future.

It is one of the fine lines of faith I walk daily. And usually the frustrations win. As I re-started Francis Chan’s book, Crazy Love, this morning, I was reminded of the importance of standing in awe, complete awe, of God. I don’t often do that, if at all…too many distractions, too many wishful migrating thoughts. It is terribly difficult to even look or think of my body with an awe of seeing it as God’s creation, perfectly woven from before birth. The physical I now live is not what I may want, but in every season, there is good. I just need to live it in a better attitude, full of awe of God’s Goodness.

And whatever you do, in word or deed, do everything in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father through him.

Colossians 3:17

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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October 3, 2014 · 5:53 pm

Hello, my name is…

I’m horrible at introductions. People say their names and, most often, by the time I say, “I’m Mel. It’s nice to meet you,” I have entirely forgotten their name or never fully understood it in the first place. Introductions would be a way for me to practice assertiveness in just simply asking for clarification or repeating of the name. But I never do, unless my family is present with me, in which one comes to my rescue and will finger spell and lip-read until I get the name and/or pronunciation correct. Even after all this, I still stumble to remember. Names.

Names are special–even nicknames. “Mel” was never even mentioned while growing up. My high school friends called me “Minda” and Dad has always loved his for me–“Minder.” 🙂 It wasn’t until my freshman year at CCU that Mel came to existence. I think it started as a mix of decorating our dorm room, “Cal and Mel’s Room,” along with the street church kids. Our leader had an abbreviated name as well and the kids just took Mel and that is who they came to call me. Between friends, roommates and street church–Mel fit. I liked Mel. I think my full name–Melinda–is a beautiful name, but for me, Mel fits. 🙂

It was also in college that I came to use sign language and interpreters for hearing needs in the classroom. My sophomore year, a deaf man transferred to finish his degree and we had one class together that Spring. As I got to know him over the next year, he gave me my signing name. In the Deaf culture, one must be deaf to give another a signing name (unless you are going into interpreting or such.) I am not sure why this is,but I remember my ASL teacher, who was born deaf, telling us about different deaf culture things. Another one that I found funny, but now that I am deaf myself, can see how it makes sense: if two deaf people are talking or even just a deaf person signing to another hearing person, it is considered rude for a third person passing through to duck or lip an, “excuse me,” because it is actually more of a distraction to the conversation than if the person just quickly passes. A complete opposite of the hearing world conversation.

Conversations, like names, can get confusing when watching me. Because I was born hearing and didn’t go fully deaf until this year, my speech–though soft–is good. I do struggle with different pronunciation aspects, but then again, like a history of falling, I have a history of funny word mishaps and pronunciations even before I got declining hearing. Contrast, my deaf friend at CCU was born deaf and taught himself to speak; he too had a soft voice, but his pronunciation of words was remarkable! Unless I am using an interpreter, I lip-read; as I mentioned, my hands and sign language don’t agree anymore, especially in finger spelling…which is probably why I dread introductions with interpreters, because it is proper to first finger spell your name and then show your signing name. So much for manners–I skip the finger spelling completely and just show my signing name. 🙂

Before we graduated, my friend gave me my signing name. It is an “M” brushed by the side of the cheek, starting close to the mouth. He said he chose this, because of my smile. I think it is a very special signing name and even though I have now lost contact with him since moving here, I think of him when I use my name. I have been thinking about signing names for many months now, because I have the honor of giving my family signing names…which will also cut the finger spelling time and questions in conversations if I need clarification of the name. I want, like my signing name, the signs to be special. My problem is that there are 4 “M’s” in the midst of being creative, but I haven’t stopped in search of their names yet.

So long as the memory of certain beloved friends lives in my heart, I shall say that life is good.

~Helen Keller

 

 

 

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October 1, 2014 · 12:33 pm

Rugby Church

Rugby is a strange and fascinating sport. It actually reminds me a bit of the way Calvin and Hobbes play Calvinball in Bill Watterson’s comic strip–the set up structures and plays always shifting to what seems like a new sport. Saturday night, I found myself relaxing and since I had finished a book the night before, I wanted a change of atmosphere and decided to browse Netflix on my Nook instead. As I scanned some of the movies already pre-selected from earlier this summer, I found a few that seemed funny but ended switching three times until I found a movie that seemed a solid, not just a movie, sort of story. The movie: Forever Strong.

Forever Strong is a story based off true events. The main character, Rick Penning, is a 17-year old Rugby star on his father’s rugby team. Living a party and wild life off the field, Rick gets his second DUI and is sent to a juvenile detention center where his relationship with his father is scattered and Rick is anything but skeptical about life change. At first. A counselor at the detention center was the first to notice Rick teaching a group of other detention boys the fundamentals of the sport,

Rick: Now, if you get tackled and you go down, you must release the ball back to one of your own guys. Then he takes it and goes. We don’t stop. There’s no huddles, no time-outs.

Detention boy: So, it’s kinda like football and soccer?

Rick: It’s kinda like Rugby.

As time continues towards Rick’s 18th  birthday, if he does not turn his life around, he could end in a state prison. But a rival rugby team’s head coach, Coach Larry Gelwix, sees potential for the better in Rick and offers him a chance and playing position on his team. It is not the field and wins that essentially matter to Coach Gelwix, but first, the player as a person off the field…the lives of his young men and who they become are what he puts as top priority. For Rick, this is a new philosophy. Over the course of his detention time, he learns life change…a better change. Tears, sweat, laughter, sacrifice, pain, hope…Rick’s once rival team, became more than just a rugby team on the field. They became brothers, bonded by a desire to be better in life, to get back on their feet even when they didn’t think it was possible.

As I watched the field action, the ruthlessness of the sport made me think of one thing: where on earth are the helmets and shoulder pads and protective gear? All they had was a mouth piece that looked much like a night retainer you wear when sleeping. Soccer can get crazy, but they don’t simultaneously tackle like football players either. I now have a greater respect for rugby, even if I don’t fully understand the rules and plays of the game.

Like Rick explained in his rugby fundamentals, life rarely gives time-outs. If any at all. It can be ruthless, being knocked down again and again. As I somewhat marveled at the players determination against the rivals and the pain, I thought of my own protective gear. In Ephesians 6:10-19, Paul urges the brothers and sisters in faith to put on the full armor of God, “ For we do not wrestle against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the cosmic powers over this present darkness, against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly places,” (v. 12). My own armor of God is always there, but lately, I have been living days where I don’t take time or effort to fully put it on, guarding myself…leaving myself prone to the “flaming darts of the evil one,” (v.16). 

I have been given the strength to stand, again and again. And I will continue to be knocked down, again and again. Who would have known that a simple sport movie would remind me of what is important, what comes first as top priority in life…who I am in Jesus Christ. I still and will have my days, like the frustrations of the hands that I recently posted, but it is part of the getting up, continuing on, living life to the full.

…

http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0840322/

http://highlandrugby.net/index.php/11-coaches/6-larry-gelwix

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