February 9, 2014 · 11:55 pm

Carried in Love

“It happens every time,” I say in tears with a mouthful of a Fiber One bar. I take a drink of my re-heated coffee, then continue, “I do so well; then the week before my doctor appointments, I just don’t!” Of course, I also state in frustration that I think it’s a conspiracy. I am not sure what the case is (definitely not a conspiracy), but this situation does seem to happen most often around doctor appointments.  Maybe it’s just ironic.

This morning was like any other Sunday: a rush getting ready, downing a small breakfast amid hoping to leave on time, but still needing to put on my socks and boots. In my hurriedness coming out of my room, carrying my winter coat and boots, my right leg locks at the knee as I round the corner in which throws me off-balance. I tumble-down backwards, dropping everything and hit my head on the floor. My parents were still here, and within a minute of falling, Dad came to the hallway and assisted in picking me up off the floor.

Just a few days earlier, I spent a whole day conquering my file box! (Also termed: The Twilight Zone!) After hours of organizing and sorting, the results are rewarding. All that was left to accomplish was shredding a stack of old bank statements. Dad un-jammed my shredder and I started happily shredding away! As it starts to fill, the shredder gets a slower speed and makes noises (unknown to me.) Dad comes in and tries to tell me this, but I defend my shredder saying it is able to shred up to so many pages and that it is just full. Not really implying that I need help emptying the bin, Dad makes his way to help me anyway. Sitting on a stool, I start to stand to get out of his way, but result in slipping…knocking the stool over, I too stumble backwards. It was like a crash-landing. I have never hit the floor backwards so hard ever before, and in a moment, I was in the worst pain and instant tears. But Dad was there, and helped pick me up.

As he helped me get comfortable on the couch, I started to feel bad for bickering in justification the few minutes before the fall. Seemed so silly; and Dad finished shredding my papers. This morning, after finally getting my boots on, I realize that I probably shouldn’t drive in the snow that was piling down. I text Dad and tell him I am just going to stay put, safe and sound. “After all that,” I mumble as I go ahead and just brew a new pot of coffee. But I am glad I stayed. My morning readings brought me to ponder God’s unfailing Love, as I thought about my Dad having been by my side after each fall. Truth: Dad won’t always be there, but God is ever-present in times of trouble. (Psalm 46:1)

Missy [his daughter] could fall down and hurt herself, even if I’m walking right there beside her. That doesn’t mean that I allowed it to happen. She knows, as far as unconditional love, I’ll pick her up and I’ll carry her. I’ll try to heal her. I’ll cry when she cries. And I’ll rejoice when she is well. In all the moments of my life, God has been right there beside me. The truth of God’s love is not that he allows bad things to happen. It’s His promise that he’ll be there with us when they do.

–Clark’s response to Marty’s question: Why does God allows bad things to happen to decent people?

Love Comes Softly. 2003. Based on the book by Janette Oke.

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February 7, 2014 · 11:26 pm

Moving Forward

Today was my MRI. You have to understand why I thought it was kind of a big deal: for the past four months, I have had but only one small and local doctor appointment. That’s it. 🙂 Can’t you see how joyous this is?

While I was getting ready, I did some thinking: The past four months of living without having to think of myself all the time has been the most rewarding experience–unlike during chemo when I had at least two appointments every week, plus specific times for taking chemo, and still, log every detail for doctors and research team. Chemo was not helping me. It was controlling me and after much prayer, I decided to end. I know this is not a situation or conclusion that other chemo patients can decide. But this was, and still is, my final decision. I truly am thankful and appreciative of all the care that is put towards my condition and know that it is always available to me when help is needed.

Since then, I cannot deny that I have painfully embraced this fact that my physical body could indeed change drastically, causing me to become fully dependent on others for my needs. It is not easy to comprehend. But isn’t that faith–surrendering fully to God, dependent on Him to meet my every need? I am nothing without His strength; I can’t deny it. Doctors look at my scans and compare what they see evolving inside verses my body’s functions and performance on the outside. The contrast should be labeled as “impossible,” but that is not a word in God’s vocabulary. Possible: I know that it’s true when I get out of bed each morning.

I am a living; As I see now, there is only one direction in which I can continue regardless of MRI scan results–and that is forward.

I came that they may have life and have it abundantly. ~John 10:10b

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February 6, 2014 · 11:57 pm

Thoughts on Paper

I’ve been a bit distracted lately. Not in a bad way, it just seems to be that I would rather have my nose in a book than anything else. After finishing a few chapters at breakfast, I got up to start the rest of my day–randomly, I laughed out loud as I pictured the scene from Disney’s Beauty and the Beast where Gaston is talking to Belle about having her nose in books…

Gaston: How can you read this? There’s no pictures!

Belle: Well, some people use their imagination.

Although books do cause my imagination to stir, most of what I read just enables me to think. Think deeply. I am not sure why I have taken a strong passion to reading so much over the past few months. The only “explainable” proposition I came up with in my mind a few days ago was that reading is a place where I hear everything. All the thoughts on paper: I don’t miss a word. There is no lack of communication, no frustrations in lip-reading, because I am in the conversation in reading the thoughts the author has penned on paper, like a conversation flowing.

Almost ironic as it sounds, becoming a more avid reader, I have seen myself emerge out of the “silent-reader-shell,” and start conversations about what I read, whether it is in person or through social media sites, such as Good Reads. So, I suppose the greatest question I have been asking is simply,”Where is this going?” This new passion of reading, sharing, learning, growing: It’s the start of something. The passion kindles–it’s exciting, and I am ready to discover more of what lies ahead.

Your word is a lamp to my feet and a light to my path. ~Psalm 119:105

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February 1, 2014 · 11:59 pm

Solid Grip

Normally when I accidently drop a medicine on the floor, one of my family will hear it land and come quickly to the rescue. No one saw or heard me drop a pill tonight, and instead of asking for help, I tried to pick it up myself.

I don’t say coincidence, but my dropping of pills is always the same two and they never seem to end in causing me troubles: the first is skinny, yet cylinder shaped, and has the smooth outer wax-looking covering making it slippery for my numb fingers; and the second pill, well, it just so happens to be the exact same color as the wooden floor and when it drops–it’s transparent. It’s a daunting task to find this pill, and when I do, it is usually if I tip my head at very awkward angles or the lights suddenly reflect a shiny stud on the floor. I take both these pills twice a day…some days, like today, are just aggravating!

When I dropped the former of the pills this morning, I was alone. I tried with no success to pick it up with my fingers, but after a few minutes, resulted in grabbing a spoon from the drawer and pushing the pill into the middle of the utensil. Pulling myself back into standing position, balancing the pill on the spoon had me feeling as if it was a raw egg. 🙂 The spoon-retrieving-medicine was a success, so when the pill dropped again tonight, I started the same process, except this time first asking Marcia for a spoon. It was then Dad realized what I was doing and came to the rescue.

It must not have been my day for medicine, because shortly after this I set out to refill my day caps for the coming week. When I got to the latter of my two trouble-making pills, I didn’t drop just one…but two, as they slid out of my hands. I did the usual awkward angle head positions and found one, but as I gently swept it closer to me in order to pick it up without falling off my chair, it speeds away and goes back into transparency. It’s then that I let out a disgusted, frustrated: “UGH. Good grief!!” Mom came to the rescue and found both.

I had one more refill, but in this case, the pill is never the problem–the bottle cap is the problem. It is one of those “squeeze the cap on the sides while you turn the bottle,” and I normally don’t bother to try anymore with opening it. I can’t remember the last time I opened a bottle like this normal…it has to be a few years; the atrophy in my thumb muscles played a role in this long before numbness was a problem. My hand format consists of placing the bottle in my left hand–one of the “push here” spots rests against the bone of the thumb that stands out since the atrophy; and the other “push here” spot, I place my pointer/index finger and squeeze as hard as I can, while twisting the bottle with my right hand. It never started to become a major problem until the numbness increased.

Maybe it was my frustration of medicines today, but as I tried to open it, instead of giving up right away, I set out to try something else. I unsuccessfully tried using a pair of needle-nose pliers, but in this attempt I noted that most of my problem was not the “push and twist” of the cap, but my holding the bottle firm in the right hand. So, I found the non-slip rubber jar opener pad in another drawer and just tried again to see if I could open the medicine bottle.

It was not easy, even with the assistance…but after a few more big squeezes and strains, the bottle opened. And I cried. In that moment I felt victorious. I should see the same in life…that even the most difficult days are worth living, because I am held firm in God’s hand.

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January 27, 2014 · 2:23 pm

Thankful for Today

I didn’t take much notice of the blue skies and appearing sunshine when I first woke this morning. Remembering the days of summer when waking between 6:30-7 A.M. was pure joy (and total spontaneous…), I groggily pull myself out of bed around 7:40 after smacking my snooze button at least three times prior. Stanley Steemer was coming between 8-9 A.M. to spot clean the carpet, in which my room was one of them. I text Mom to tell her I am awake (though not desiring to be out of bed yet) and get ready.

As I enter the kitchen, Mom has the coffee brewing and I grab a quick bowl of cereal for breakfast. “I could be more awake if I went to bed earlier,” my thoughts conclude. This past week, I have had many late evenings. If I did not want to blame myself, I would put blame on the authors who write incredible novels. I started one Saturday evening and simply could not put it down! Last night I had about eighty pages left and knew if I didn’t conclude the story, I wouldn’t sleep anyway. I am known to finish good reads such as this at the wee hours in the morning, but last night, it was just until 1 A.M.

Blue skies and sunshine were not highly celebrated by my family or I while living in Colorado. In fact, like the mountains, I simply took the combination for granted. After moving, the skies proved very different! I can handle the long streaks of rainy days, but what gets me is the days where the sky is just white: no clouds, no sun, no blue. Just white, as if a drywall has been placed between earth and the heavens. Not so today! Blue skies and sunshine. As I reenter the kitchen a few hours later for lunch, I tell Mom: “These kinds of days give me energy!” And sort of pump my arms in cheerleader fashion.

Last week I called my good lady friend for a chat. Gayle is more like another grandma as she has known my family and I even before I was born. Her godly wisdom and sense of humor are something that encourages me every chance we get to talk (or when I visited her during Denver days.) She is the only mid-eighties woman I know that can chat more about football than even myself! No offense to my family, but I don’t get very far when discussing the topic with them (except for my brother-in-law!) 🙂

So when I called her, our first order of talk was indeed football, seeing as the Superbowl is approaching this coming Sunday and we are both Broncos fans! We talked about family and the holidays; current news, weather and a few fun things coming up. Eventually we got around to discussing health–she has Diabetes and myself with NF2. About the only thing we have in common is bad balance and occasional falls (but no broken bones!) We near the end of our conversation and I briefly mention the dates for my upcoming MRI/doctor appointments. I share a few thoughts on the matter and tell her that there is nothing I can do at this point besides take life one day at a time and live it to the fullest and to the best of my abilities while I can.

She listened then responded, “Well I’ll tell you…I am just so thankful that you are still able to get yourself around and take care of yourself and not confined yet. I am happy to hear that.” I got a few tears in my eyes, “Thanks Gayle.”

When I commented to Mom about the sunshine, blue skies and energy, my mind flashed with thoughts of Gayle. She was thankful for my health, though we had discussed even the changes that are spiraling downward. How often do I get out of bed and pray simply, “Thank you for this new day,” or “Thank you that I can still get myself out of bed and prepare for the day.” In honesty, I don’t…especially on the white days. But I desire to start a new praise habit…one of thankfulness in the morning, no matter the colors of the sky.

Blue skies that take me back to being a child
Trees with leaves that turn the colors I love
A heart that’s beating to Your melodies ringing
And I am a miracle ’cause heaven is a part of me
And You are the song that I’m singing

“All Things New.” Watermark. Rocketown, 2004.

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January 26, 2014 · 10:53 pm

Future Winds

Quite frankly, I have not seen anything like the winds we encountered here yesterday. At least not in the winter, or since moving. It was like watching a National Geographic special on PBS about Antarctica–the winds thrusting the snow all around in fierce fashion. It was pretty insane.

Growing up, it was just a known fact: spring meant wind. And with high drought, and living among potato fields, this meant a lot of dirt, sometimes dirt devils too. Oh, and did I mention that we lived an hour from The Great Sand Dunes National Park and Reserve? From where we lived, the dunes made a tiny gold outline against the San Juan mountains. But entering the park, the dunes are a mass of towering hills of sand. When the wind started to blow, whether you were climbing the peaks or not, often the hot sand would swipe and tingle your arms or legs–not the greatest feeling, but rolling down the dunes was always worth strenuous upward trek.

There are several other notable times when strong winds were evident. Once, during VBS, I was leading the Sing and Play at the end of the day, before our youth pastor took over with the concluding end lesson. The wind that day was so powerful it knocked the power out of most of the town–so there we were…around close to 200 in the sanctuary with no lights, microphones, nothing. Of course most of the kids think it’s great and thankfully it didn’t scare the little ones too bad. I got some help on stage in the vocal area, and we sang a capella before Josh took over–he didn’t need a microphone anyway. On our way home, we passed by a grove of huge trees; one had simply snapped like a twig under the wind.

The summer of 2009, I moved to Denver as that Fall semester would be my last of college days. Between part-time work and volunteering once a week with the street church kids, I was finishing the last of my Gen-Ed courses online (which I enjoyed and should have taken more advantage of earlier…but no regrets.) Me and a few roommates from school rented an apartment a few blocks from campus. We didn’t have internet set, so it was my routine to swing by campus on my way home from work to submit assignments or fill in my two-cents of discussion in the forums.

I had permission from the security office to stay later than when the computer labs closed and often they came around to check on me, which I appreciated very much. One night, it was stormy but I had to submit a paper by midnight. I text my roommate that I would be coming in late so if she was going to bed, don’t bother leaving a light on for me. I get to work and being at the bottom of a drafty stairwell, don’t think much about the wind and rain, until I glance out the window and see massive hail balls pelting my car and the cement. My phone starts vibrating and I start receiving all these texts from my roommates telling me to stay put–the tornado siren had just been heard. Not by me.

I still had my paper to finish, so I moved a chair to the middle hallway’s door and sat under the frame structure. I figured that was the best I could do and continued to type. I submitted my paper by 11:58pm. Barely made it! I was surprised that I even had a car when I went outside; I had parked under the biggest tree on campus which had lost many large branches in the wind. I drove back to my apartment with only a few dents on my hood and minor cracks in my windshield.

…

Last night I watched a few old episodes of 19 Kids and Counting on Netflix with Mom. One episode we watched was when the Duggars announced their exciting news of expecting another child, but at 18-weeks, Michelle (mom) has a miscarriage. A very heart-breaking episode to watch. As Michelle talked with tearful eyes about their time of mourning and grieving the loss–she also that they would see their little girl again someday in heaven. They were given peace.

One comment that Michelle said stayed with me. I woke this morning deciding that yesterday’s wind was a bit parallel to what she discussed. She simply mentions that if we were given the ability to see into our future, we most likely wouldn’t want to face it, at least not the hardships. So I thought about my own life–if I saw my future ten years ago to what I am now, I wouldn’t (then) want to face this…all the changes the disease has caused. And I can say now that I don’t want to see my future, as much as I have tried to plan my course in the past.

The future is like the wind–invisible; yet I am certain there will be winds of pain and sorrow, but also joy, hope and peace.

Count it all joy, my brothers,when you meet trials of various kinds, for you know that the testing of your faith produces steadfastness. And let steadfastness have its full effect, that you may beperfect and complete, lacking in nothing.

If any of you lacks wisdom, let him ask God, who gives generously to all without reproach, and it will be given him. But let him ask in faith, with no doubting, for the one who doubts is like a wave of the sea that is driven and tossed by the wind.

James 1:2-6, ESV

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January 21, 2014 · 11:58 pm

New Year, New Paintings

Today, a funny quote from Disney’s National Treasure came to mind as I was cleaning my paintbrushes and scrubbing my hands. In the movie scene, we just transitioned from a young Benjamin Gates solemnly swearing to “take upon [the] duty of the Templars, the Freemasons and the family Gates” to present day, in which Gates is now a grown man. He obviously upheld his duty, as he and his crew are in the middle of the Canadian Arctic in search of the Charlotte.

Upon reaching the assumed, yet very carefully researched, destination of the ship, Gates and the rest set out equipped with metal detectors on the ice. Still in search, the conversation between a good guy (Riley) and a bad guy (Powell) follows:

Powell: Look… this is a waste of time. How could a ship wind up way out here?

Riley: Well, I’m no expert but… it could be that the hydrothermic properties of this region produce hurricane-force ice storms that cause the ocean to freeze and then melt and then refreeze, resulting in a semisolid migrating land mass that would land a ship right around here. [Walks away]

Ha ha…makes me laugh every time! I guess I must have thought of this quote due to relentless scrubbing of my hands over the past few days, especially yesterday. I am no expert, nor have even taken any painting classes…but just take it from my personal experience–beware the MOD PODGE!! It gets nasty. And the Staz On permanent ink..it stains your hands for days. And wear old clothes…just saying. 😉

IMG_4180

Besides all this, I enjoyed many hours in the basement “studio.” Here are a few finished canvases:

DSCN3318

DSCN3315

DSCN3311

DSCN3321

As I placed them in a line for the photos, I noticed that they all have flowers and the color yellow. I must be wishing for sunny, warm, spring days. 🙂 I will be posting these to Etsy by the weekend.

Goodnight.

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January 20, 2014 · 12:11 am

Thinking of you.

Three words. It can change the whole course of the day, especially when God intervenes in timing. He knows when you need to hear them spoken to the soul, when you need the nourishment because the circumstances around you have left you exhausted and dehydrated. I can’t even count the times this has happened during my journey, the last 11 years.

Last night, I found myself on Youtube watching those inspirational-acts-of-kindness movies that get you a bit teary eyed. It might be part of my personality traits, but I got to admit…all those childhood days of pretending to be Florence Nightingale came to memory and I suddenly wanted to do something for someone. Something big. I wanted to be one of those inspirational stories; I wanted to make a difference in someone’s life. All I could think of was donating money to different places. Why does it always seem t0 come to that?

Today I finished an autobiography, Unthinkable, by Scott Rigsby. He is a double amputee above the knees. At the age of 18, a truck collision shattered just about everything in his body, especially his future dreams. Reading the first two chapters you clearly see that it is a miracle he is even alive. Over the next twenty years, Rigsby went through countless surgeries, therapy, drug addiction, party life, seven years of college (and still graduating with no sense of direction in life), a severe case of TBI (traumatic Brain Injury) and depression, debt and no money for bills, in and out of jobs and lawyer cases for settlement issues, and the constant public eye at his “disability.” I think he went through just about everything.

In his own journey, God led him to a place where Rigsby surrendered everything and it was only then that God started to piece together a new course: the unthinkable. Rigsby had always been a runner, but dreams of a future in that seemed impossible; he is now a life showing that nothing is impossible for God. After picking up a few sport related magazines with stories of triathlon athletes, he got a crazy idea–he would participate in a triathlon. He had virtually nothing going for him..not in the physical or financial realm, training or knowledge of what this all entitled…he just knew this was the open door that God was gently leading him through–the chance to use his disabilities to bring God glory for the capability.

As I read, it became obvious that God used ordinary people with big hearts to help Rigsby accomplish his dream: the Hawaiian Ironman triathlon. They saw a need and simply used their time, talents or training skills, connections, hospitality to meet the need. His supporters didn’t act because they wanted to be a huge “inspirational teary-eyed story.” They helped because their thoughts were for Rigsby…they were his “Thinking of you” crew. He couldn’t have achieved his goal on his own. Rigsby now uses his testimony to help others cope with loss and shattered dreams. He doesn’t do it by heroic deeds, but words of encouragement and guidance.

This weekend has left me with many thoughts–I still don’t feel like I have a dream. I still see limits in my life physically, but learned much from Rigsby’s testimony of trusting God with the impossible. I need to be more in prayer for direction–how God can use me (my time and talents) to help others. I don’t want to just say, “Thinking of you.” I want it sincere, with Love.

Life’s most persistent and urgent question is, “What are you doing for others?” -Martin Luther King, Jr.

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January 17, 2014 · 11:59 pm

Soup on Snow Days

Today is snowed. A lot. I called my grandpa after a late breakfast and as we finished our conversation, he asked if I was getting ready to have lunch. “Not yet. I am still finishing my coffee.” Of course, I didn’t tell him that it was my second cup. But I did already know what I was planning on the menu for lunch: soup and a bagel. Comfort food.

As I was organizing and sorting my books this week, I found a devotional book that I started last Fall, but put back on the shelf without finishing it. It’s titled, 66 Love Letters: A Conversation with God that Invites You into His Story, by Dr. Larry Crabb. Dr. Crabb writes this particular read in a first-person dialect between himself and God. Taking each book of the Bible as a love letter from God, Dr. Crabb asks the question of what we are hear and learn from the love letter; how does it fit in our lives today? And what about the bigger story: God’s story?

Yesterday, I read Part Three: Living in Mystery with Wisdom and Hope. This section included Job through the Song of Songs. In this recent past week, I have had more thoughts of my upcoming appointments and health. In honesty, I think I am seeing a little glimpse of what bigger physical changes are happening, yet still trying to ignore the fact that it is actually happening. As I read Love Letter Nineteen: Psalms, God (in conversation with Dr. Crabb) states,

In the Psalms, I reveal what life is like for the person who lives in the storm with his eyes fixed on me. As you read the Psalms, hear me say this:

Face the hard questions that life requires you to ask. Gather with other travelers on the narrow road, pilgrims who acknowledge their confusion and fears. Then, together, live those questions in My Presence. (Crabb, 91.)

My first response–“I don’t want to face the hard questions.” It has been leading up to this point all week–just from different events, conversations, thoughts or songs coming to mind, and things read in other books–but this morning’s conversation with my grandpa helped finalize the point: facing my hard questions is inevitable. But I don’t face them alone. We all face hard questions about the circumstances in our lives. The true comfort comes is knowing that we’re held and forever in God’s Story.

P.S. This song came to mind this week: “Held” by Natalie Grant.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iOufqWodFNo

Crabb, Larry. 66 Love Letters: A Conversation with God that Invites You into His Story. (Nashville: Thomas Nelson, 2009.)

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January 11, 2014 · 11:59 pm

My One Word for 2014

From my last post, one can read about the good times my family and I had while being all together for the first time in over a year. It was a phenomenal way to kick off the new year and I wish it could have lasted longer!

Over the week, however, I really struggled with the battles waging in my mind. I know–you will tell me something like, “Mel, you are beautiful. Don’t believe the lies that say otherwise,”–but right at the start, looking around at my beautiful family talking and laughing over our Spaghetti Warehouse dinner..I just wanted to burst into tears. I felt different, distant than everyone else. It was only the beginning of my “happy face” week.

I think in part it is frustration at my current hand condition. As the numbness increases, so does the weakness and curling of my fingers. Tasks that should be fast, are now taking me longer or requiring help. One that is most frustrating of all is putting in my hearing aid. Some days I just can’t, so I either go without it (which I do okay in lip-reading) or someone else puts it in for me. It was putting in my hearing aid before our late lunch on Sunday that caused me to get so frustrated that once I finally got it placed in my ear, I looked in the mirror and told myself, “Just put on your happy face.”

I know–I can be honest with my family and should not hide emotions, but I get tired of it being about my health. I feel my conversations with people are most often about my health (if they ask about it) or books, coffee, or small talk such as this. My first engaging conversation I have had in a long time was when we came home from the Creation Museum the Friday before and we started discussing Darwin, natural selection, and evolution. Don’t get me wrong, the car ride to the museum had us in conversation of memories–hilarious–but memories are different than deep questions (if you get what I mean.) Back to Sunday, the battling of emotions and lies in my head did not fool my sister, Marcia, as I came back into the kitchen.

She asked what I what I wanted to drink and I snapped, “Water,” then headed to Mom’s bathroom to see if she had a hair clip. Not being able to do my hair anymore was also bugging me. Next thing I know, I am a sobbing mess and Marcia finds me like this–anything but happy. Ironic, just releasing those anger and frustration thoughts helped me release the tight emotions. Marcia said that we are family–I don’t have to put on a happy face for them. Easier said than done when you battle “burden” thoughts for over ten years. Mom found us and helped me put up my hair. The evening turned out to be one of great memories and laughs. With a true happy face.

Not even a day later, I find myself in the worst possible situation I have ever had physically. It’s not G-rated and I don’t wish to discuss it…but let’s just say that night I was sick, and I mean literally sick. It was awful. I have never felt so humiliated even though I was at home just with family. Without asking questions, Marcia and Mom set out to assist me, as once again, I am a sobbing mess. I even said, “This is when I hate my body.” And I meant it. While helping me, and cleaning up at the same time, I am not sure how the conversation flow happened, but I remember Marcia looking up and saying, “Because you’re family and we love you.”

Holley Gerth–author, speaker, fellow blogger–wrote a post, “What’s your one word for 2014?” It was sent to my inbox the morning of the humiliating incident evening. I read it, but I did not start to think serious about something like this until a few days later. I have never claimed a life verse or a yearly word. I know others who have, but especially a yearly word–seemed like a resolution to me and I never meet my resolutions, thus, I don’t make them at the beginning of the year. I just used that as my excuse, I suppose. Maybe it was something about Marcia’s comment that caused me to see different.

My health is something that affects much greater than myself. For my family, I can’t grasp the depth of their sacrifices on my part due to health or what it means for all of us in the future. But what I saw the night of my most vulnerable physical state was Love. It was sacrifice. It was pure. We say the word “love” all the time, about anything, but are we really giving ourselves away in the process? In thinking of Holley’s question, I found myself trying to find the “perfect” word for my year of 2014. It didn’t take me long to oust the perfection part and just gather a word. I thought of many but found myself returning to this: there is only one perfect Love and through my sister and Mom’s actions, I saw Jesus.

That is Love.

What is my one word for 2014?

Love.

Little children, let us not love in word or talk but in deed and in truth.

~I John 3:18

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