Up early, with much to be thankful for -- family and friends -- and no wig to be singed by the blast of hot air from the oven while checking on the turkey! :)
Happy Thanksgiving...
(Original post date: November 25, 2009)
I keep needing and wanting a definition for grace. Is it a quiet blanket that provides calm? Thrown over a situation it melts away the impurities, the untruths, the frenzy and leaves only goodness. Grace is a peacemaker. It slows a building of energy. It appreciates every one as a creature of God. It balances Godliness with freedom of choice. When freedom abounds, fast and furious, grace, like a warm fleece blanket, douses the flame a bit, protects the Godliness. Reminds us what we truly are.
Grace is quiet. Grace is confident. I think of Mom when Grandma Murphy died. I was frenzied. Mom wasn’t cooking! How had the system broken down? Mom always cooks! Then the food began to arrive. Neighbors, friends and family appeared at our door with plates and bowls of food. Not necessarily a call beforehand, no scramble to vacuum a floor or clean the table off. Quietly, calmly Mom accepted help. The thing is Mom knew before the knocks came to the door. I can’t count the number of times I’ve been talking with Mom about, “What are you up to today?” And she is making food for someone. The guys are in the field and need sandwiches. A neighbor is ill. A farm friend has died. A young mother has a very sick little boy. Mom has worked it out. Grace through caring for others. At least while eating, those families have a half hour of warmth from someone who cares, the pain is momentarily eased. Mom’s cooking is her gift. Mom’s appearance at a friend’s house with a meal is grace, a fleece blanket to help the situation seem more bearable. Mom has shown me the power of grace not only in giving it but, perhaps more importantly, in accepting it.
But what do I do with it? I pray for God’s grace that I in turn may be graceful, gracious, full of grace. It’s a beautiful word and I sometimes recognize grace when I see it, but I have a hard time conjuring it up. Perhaps that’s the problem. Perhaps grace is a slow simmering pot of delicious stew, melding all the flavors together. And after stewing for a couple hours, the bubbles pop emitting not the smell of ingredients, but the smell of stew. It’s a culmination of events that produce grace, but yet, it’s not produced. Grace just happens.
But how to deal with it? Emitting grace is more imaginable, easier perhaps, than accepting grace. In our lives, busy and full, grace seems more elusive. However, in every day, there are tiny but great moments of grace. Sadly, our society misses many of these because we’re self-absorbed in the to-dos, should-dos and really need-to-dos. As a parent, some moments, thankfully, hit me in the face. A scream from the living room, “Mom!!” A frenzied return from the kitchen, “What?” A reply, “I love you!” “…Oh.” Like being tapped by the wing of an angel. A gift of grace. And if I dry my hands in the kitchen and go to the living room and hug my cherub, that’s accepting grace.
This brings me back to my biggest quandary: recognizing and accepting that more subtle grace as it moves about daily. How? First the world needs to spin a bit slower so that I can “see” grace when it happens. If only grace traveled as a recognizable fleece blanket, neatly folded, I could keep my eye on it. Then when I see it expand and cover something, that would be my “aha” moment. Assuming it’s spotted, and, oh dear God, it’s going to land on me. Do I want to be covered? Shall I run? Why? What will I do when it lands? Frenzy. I close my eyes. I plant my feet. I am quiet. I feel the tap of an angel wing. It’s beautiful, heavenly. And all I can return is a whisper. “Thank you.”
Thursday, November 25, 2010
Thursday, November 11, 2010
Power and Prayer
(Original post date: 11/10/09)
Power. For me, being treated for cancer, especially going through chemo, means losing power and control. No choice. Every person facing this comes to the table from a different life journey. I've always felt that I'm the protector of my children. Previously invincible, now, I've become the protector of myself, and as that, I’m going to maintain as much control as I can. I own it and I have to do what’s right for me and my family. In a way this is a new position of power. This is a full-time job. Along the way, in June and July, I had more fear and anger than feelings of power. But, Bill and I made sure then that we had complete confidence in the doctors to whom I had to turn the physical power over to.
Fortunately, people told me to take care of me, and do what I needed to do for myself and my family. I learned how to accept help from friends and strangers.
Fortunately, every person I reached out to who had experienced cancer has grasped a hold of me. Each has cast a rope around my waist, destined not to let me sink. They are pillars standing on the shore of a rocky sea they’ve already sailed. From family members to women who were mere acquaintances or absolute strangers, I have strong and formidable women who hold the ropes that are stabilizing me. They talk with me at 11 p.m. from Iowa. They told me what day to expect my hair to fall out. They warned me that my bald head would be cold sleeping. They laughed at me when I thought perhaps I should go to the ER after cleaning a toilet and getting light-headed. “You goofball! Open a window and take some deep breaths!” I am in a fit of laughter writing and thinking about that phone call!
Fortunately my pastor, in addition to his compassionate listening, said, “I really feel you will come out on the other side of this,” plus words to the effect that God can take anything I can dish out. I have had words with God. I have prayed and I have prayed aggressively. I have explained exactly where I stand with this. In my mind and through my writing, I have stood in the middle of a corn field in Iowa screaming at God. Then I thought perhaps He couldn’t hear me through the 8-foot high stalks of corn. So we took it to a hayfield. And I really screamed at Him.
I’m lifting from a journal the following that I wrote the last day of July. It’s actually written to you but back then I was too close to it to share with you. It’s raw footage of a different place than where I am today.
July 31, 2009
I think faith is a very individual personal decision, and I tend to keep it that way. However if you are someone who prays and are stumped, as I’ve been, about what to pray for us, I’ll share with you what I pray for. While I’m thankful for much, there are days when I pray pretty aggressively and angrily, which I have never done before. I’m sure that we, He and I, have an understanding that whatever comes out is indeed a raw passion for life and the commitment I have made as a wife, a mother, a daughter, a granddaughter, a sister, a cousin, an aunt, a niece, a god-parent, a guardian, a friend…. So when that passionate fire burns raw in my conversations with Him, I remind Him to be prepared for me to live life with a zest and a fierceness I seldom if ever have experienced in my life. With that said, this is my prayer.
“God, I thank you for all the gifts in my life.
I pray for daily blessings, including those small and special or large and complicated. For those that appear blemished.
I pray for your grace and that I in turn am graceful.
I pray that I feel the power of the Father, Son and Holy Spirit move through me every day.
I pray for strength and courage in all that I do.
I pray for wisdom in all decisions I make.
I pray that the cancer is contained, controlled and cured.
I pray for the doctors who are helping me. I pray especially for my surgeon’s expertise and thank you for her compassion.
I pray for those special women in my life who have had cancer and for those who are fighting it now. Thank you for putting these strong, formidable women in my path.
I pray for all of the people who will help me on this journey.
I pray for others who are ill or suffering.
I pray for my parents, brothers, sister and family. Please give them comfort as I know they are worried about me. Remind them daily that I am from strong stock: Murphys, Mills, and Iowans.
I pray that I live in each moment and truly see the beauty that surrounds me.
I pray for “Mommy, Daddy, Will & Liam.” We are a family of four with long full lives to lead together.
I pray all this in your name… Our father who art in heaven…”
And this is what I carry with me in my pocket on a prayer bracelet every day. And I pray this prayer not normally in tears but with great hope and tremendous faith.
And there are days when I so wish for an Iowa corn field to scream in – so, if you have one and feel the urge, go pray aggressively in it for me!
This must be the angry stage. :)
End of journal entry.
August 1, 2009, was a new day with a new sense of peace.
Staying strong with a pocket full of prayer,
Linda
Power. For me, being treated for cancer, especially going through chemo, means losing power and control. No choice. Every person facing this comes to the table from a different life journey. I've always felt that I'm the protector of my children. Previously invincible, now, I've become the protector of myself, and as that, I’m going to maintain as much control as I can. I own it and I have to do what’s right for me and my family. In a way this is a new position of power. This is a full-time job. Along the way, in June and July, I had more fear and anger than feelings of power. But, Bill and I made sure then that we had complete confidence in the doctors to whom I had to turn the physical power over to.
Fortunately, people told me to take care of me, and do what I needed to do for myself and my family. I learned how to accept help from friends and strangers.
Fortunately, every person I reached out to who had experienced cancer has grasped a hold of me. Each has cast a rope around my waist, destined not to let me sink. They are pillars standing on the shore of a rocky sea they’ve already sailed. From family members to women who were mere acquaintances or absolute strangers, I have strong and formidable women who hold the ropes that are stabilizing me. They talk with me at 11 p.m. from Iowa. They told me what day to expect my hair to fall out. They warned me that my bald head would be cold sleeping. They laughed at me when I thought perhaps I should go to the ER after cleaning a toilet and getting light-headed. “You goofball! Open a window and take some deep breaths!” I am in a fit of laughter writing and thinking about that phone call!
Fortunately my pastor, in addition to his compassionate listening, said, “I really feel you will come out on the other side of this,” plus words to the effect that God can take anything I can dish out. I have had words with God. I have prayed and I have prayed aggressively. I have explained exactly where I stand with this. In my mind and through my writing, I have stood in the middle of a corn field in Iowa screaming at God. Then I thought perhaps He couldn’t hear me through the 8-foot high stalks of corn. So we took it to a hayfield. And I really screamed at Him.
I’m lifting from a journal the following that I wrote the last day of July. It’s actually written to you but back then I was too close to it to share with you. It’s raw footage of a different place than where I am today.
July 31, 2009
I think faith is a very individual personal decision, and I tend to keep it that way. However if you are someone who prays and are stumped, as I’ve been, about what to pray for us, I’ll share with you what I pray for. While I’m thankful for much, there are days when I pray pretty aggressively and angrily, which I have never done before. I’m sure that we, He and I, have an understanding that whatever comes out is indeed a raw passion for life and the commitment I have made as a wife, a mother, a daughter, a granddaughter, a sister, a cousin, an aunt, a niece, a god-parent, a guardian, a friend…. So when that passionate fire burns raw in my conversations with Him, I remind Him to be prepared for me to live life with a zest and a fierceness I seldom if ever have experienced in my life. With that said, this is my prayer.
“God, I thank you for all the gifts in my life.
I pray for daily blessings, including those small and special or large and complicated. For those that appear blemished.
I pray for your grace and that I in turn am graceful.
I pray that I feel the power of the Father, Son and Holy Spirit move through me every day.
I pray for strength and courage in all that I do.
I pray for wisdom in all decisions I make.
I pray that the cancer is contained, controlled and cured.
I pray for the doctors who are helping me. I pray especially for my surgeon’s expertise and thank you for her compassion.
I pray for those special women in my life who have had cancer and for those who are fighting it now. Thank you for putting these strong, formidable women in my path.
I pray for all of the people who will help me on this journey.
I pray for others who are ill or suffering.
I pray for my parents, brothers, sister and family. Please give them comfort as I know they are worried about me. Remind them daily that I am from strong stock: Murphys, Mills, and Iowans.
I pray that I live in each moment and truly see the beauty that surrounds me.
I pray for “Mommy, Daddy, Will & Liam.” We are a family of four with long full lives to lead together.
I pray all this in your name… Our father who art in heaven…”
And this is what I carry with me in my pocket on a prayer bracelet every day. And I pray this prayer not normally in tears but with great hope and tremendous faith.
And there are days when I so wish for an Iowa corn field to scream in – so, if you have one and feel the urge, go pray aggressively in it for me!
This must be the angry stage. :)
End of journal entry.
August 1, 2009, was a new day with a new sense of peace.
Staying strong with a pocket full of prayer,
Linda
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