Temporary Insanity...A Story about Long Covid

I've written and rewritten this first sentence at least a dozen times. How do I begin? I have a fear that writing about this will send the wrong message. To be clear, I'm not looking to gain anything from sharing this story. Sounds cliché, but I just want to be helpful. A glimmer of light...a ray of hope...anything that might keep someone from giving up.

If you know me, you know I can't often tell a short story...but here goes it...

I got the dreaded virus back in early August 2021. At the time, I was under a lot of stress, and anxiety was kicking my butt. Without going into detail, I'll just say that several circumstances were causing me strife, and I was a bit of an emotional wreck. I'd experienced bouts like this before, but it had been several years since. The day the fever hit, I was doing ok. I had already been taking all my supplements and remedies because Soren had gotten sick just 2 weeks prior. I was strangely at ease that night as I lay awake with body aches and fever. I thought, "this isn't so bad." And it wasn't. I had a fever through the next day, and by the morning of day 3 I felt great. I cleaned house and even did outside chores! Day 4 I lost my sense of smell/taste and the congestion/cough started to set in. Anxiety started creeping again, but I rolled with it. I figured, "it's just got to run it's course." On day 6 everything spiraled. I had received some gravely troubling news from a dear friend, and I found I couldn't cope anymore. I wrote a prayer to God in my journal that night and I told Him I wanted to die. 

The weeks and months following that day were (insert worst adjective imaginable HERE). I dreamed of being committed to a mental hospital and forced into an induced coma. I couldn't even breathe normally. In that first week, it was like I was constantly mildly hyperventilating. I could not calm down. Could. Not. It felt like I was on a plane that was taking a nose-dive at an accelerated pace...but I never reached the ground. I knew I was being irrational, but thought that this must be what it felt/looked like to be insane. I kept telling myself to "get it together!" I messaged my doctor out of desperation and reluctantly got some medication. My hope was that I could just ride it out and not have to use it. That same day I contacted another doctor in the hopes that I could find some sort of alternate option. By the grace of God, they had a cancellation the very next day. That appointment was a glimmer of hope. Maybe my electrolytes were out of balance? Maybe the virus had depleted some minerals? He armed me with some supplements and I was on my way. 

As soon as I got in the car I took all the supplements he had given me. I hadn't really eaten much in days, so thankfully they could all be taken on an empty stomach. Within minutes my body tingled all over, and eventually I could feel a bit of a calm come over me. Finally, a bit of relief. If only that was the end of the story.

Unfortunately, all the symptoms I was experiencing escalated that very night. Synnove (the last to get the virus) got a bad fever and was absolutely miserable. I did what I could to help her despite myself. Adam, though still recovering, slept downstairs so he could watch over her. I was exhausted from several nights of little sleep and hoped that with my new supplements I'd be able to calm enough to get some rest. I fell asleep for a short bit, only to be woken in the middle of the night by unexplained panic that turned into a full blown panic attack. 10 hours later, another full blown panic attack! "What on earth is happening to me??!!" I honestly thought I was just crazy and that my body was just overwhelmed with stress. I had no idea that this could be related to the virus.

The days were torture. I was completely non-functional. I couldn't read, watch TV, be on social media, listen to podcasts, or do much of anything around the house. I couldn't concentrate or be distracted by anything...there was only constant panic...all day every day. Showering was somehow terrifying, and baths were completely out of the question. I couldn't stand the dim lights in the house. I slept with the light on every night for months. I could only manage to eat bananas and toast and I only ate when I absolutely had to. I was so claustrophobic that I couldn't be in the house with the windows closed. I literally could not sit down during the day, in fact I don't think I actually sat in the living room for any period of time for over 2 months. All I did day after day, hour after hour, was pace back and forth outside and pray. The various supplements that initially helped no longer helped. Even the medication was virtually useless during the day so I just didn't take it. My body seemed to be calmer in the evenings, thankfully. I could at least sit in my bed and write in my journal...but sleep was near impossible. I had to sleep somehow, so medicating at night became routine.

I had blood tests. Everything came out normal, or only slightly off (nothing that would explain the mess I was in). I was so frustrated. New symptoms were developing amidst the never-ending panic feeling. My heart would race at random, but mostly in the morning (every morning). There was no stopping it! One day my heart raced so much my chest was sore for two days after. My resting heartrate was perpetually over 100 bpm. After about a month of this nonsense, my body started to shake. At first it would only shake in the morning, but eventually I just shook all day. You couldn't actually see the shaking, but I would feel it in my body. If I tried to lift even a glass of water you could see the shake...but otherwise it was internal. It was like I was buzzing like an amp that was turned up too loud. I continued to cough for at least 2 months, and in the midst of that my throat started to have spasms and it became difficult to swallow. I had a strange jaw and tongue tightness that would come and go. It's hard to explain, but it felt like my jaw and tongue muscles were flexed somehow, but for no reason. My ears started to crackle and ring incessantly. Noises became greatly amplified. I couldn't eat anything with a crunch...it was deafening. One night I was woken by a tremor in my arm. It felt like my muscles were dancing from shoulder to wrist. It lasted about 2 hours. Every day seemed to welcome something new.

About 3-4 weeks after getting sick, I finally made the realization that I wasn't actually crazy. The virus had attacked my nervous system and I felt powerless to conquer it. No amount of therapy, deep breathing, or meditation was going to calm me down. I was stuck in a constant state of "fight or flight." I did a saliva cortisol test about 5-6 weeks in and discovered my cortisol levels were extremely high until evening. The pieces were coming together and my bi-monthly (sometimes weekly) doctor visits were very helpful. Trial and error, and more trial and error. The process was painfully long. The doc told me that I was basically a guinea pig...a pioneer for learning about the various symptoms of Long Covid. But my symptoms didn't fit into what seemed to be the typical Long Covid mold. I didn't have the fatigue or brain fog, I had the complete opposite! 

Towards the end of September, after lots and lots of prayer, and lots of research (of which I could only manage so much of in my heightened state), I started to make some slow progress. New supplements targeted at stopping the attack on the nervous system were noticeably helping. I wasn't great by any means, but I started to be able to sit for short periods in the day. I could watch one TV show (only in evenings). I could only tolerate non-drama reality shows...so I only watched veterinarian shows...haha! I was still mostly pacing all day outside, but I could sometimes sit in the grass for a bit. I also managed to do mindless tasks like laundry and dishes. But the days were still so very long because I couldn't do much of anything to pass the time.

By early October, I felt it necessary to wean myself off the medication that was helping me sleep. Because of the moderate success of my new supplement routine, I thought I could try to manage sleep on my own. I'd been using the medication for 7 weeks and I took the next week and a half to slowly taper until I didn't take any. It seemed I was doing ok...until I wasn't. I landed myself in the ER and then proceeded to spend the next MONTH detoxing from benzodiazepines. It. Was. Hell. Let's just say there's a reason why people don't often successfully come off of benzos without going to rehab. The perpetual anxiety went into high gear, the weather went sour, and the constant pacing resumed in the house for the next two months.

Fast forward to December. The anxiety/panic feeling was finally starting to feel diminished. I was still shaking, still had elevated heart rate, and still had all the other annoying physical symptoms. But with the anxiety leaving, depression set in. Deep depression. From perpetual panic, to perpetual sadness. I couldn't shake it. I had no reason to be so sad...yet there I was. Seemed I couldn't win. I realized my nervous system was trying to balance. Being in a constant state of fight or flight for 4 months had taken it's toll, and my nerve receptors were also damaged from the medication. It was going to take time and new supplements. You should see my amazing supplement collection!

Christmas came and I managed to survive the family gatherings. I gradually started eating normally again (I had lost roughly 25 lbs), and as of today I've gained most of it back (boo!!).  I spent most of my kids' basketball season slowly re-entering society. It wasn't easy. I went to the games, but any sort of smile or "hello" was difficult. I had to fake it. I went to church and would attend the potluck dinners, but I'd have to take a separate car and leave early. My ears were so sensitive to noise that I almost resorted to ear plugs...but I didn't want to draw any attention. I didn't want to answer questions. I was in a lonely place...didn't feel that anyone could truly understand what I was going through. It still seemed I was a bit of an anomaly. I had heard of people experiencing similar symptoms to mine post-Covid, but nothing as prolonged or severe.

In mid-February I met up with a friend who had been battling Long Covid for over a year. Her symptoms were more typical, but I was curious if she had found success with any treatments. By then I was doing quite well. I felt I was probably 85% recovered. She suggested I join a FB group for Long Covid sufferers. To be honest, I wasn't really excited to join a group where all the people constantly complain about their ailments. However, I wanted to see if there were others like me. I wanted to see if people were having success with treatments I hadn't heard of. I wanted to get to 100%!

I joined, and though they were much fewer, there others who were fighting the same battle I was. These people were desperate, and they are still desperate today. The suffering is unbearable and yet they feel shamed by their friends and family who think that they are making things up. They are dismissed by their doctors and told they just have anxiety. I was one of the lucky ones. I was blessed with friends and family who listened and checked up on me daily. They may not have understood, but they were there nonetheless. I was blessed with a husband and kids who did everything without me. They took up every bit of slack, and did it with grace and love.  I was blessed with those who prayed for me from afar, in person, through video chats, and phone calls. I was blessed with the ability to work with a doctor willing to try, try, and try again. I was blessed with a faith in God that is now stronger than ever. He's the only reason I made it through each day...truly. I'm not sure I'd be alive today without Him. 

The Long Covid group I'm in has over 53,000 members. That's a staggering amount of people. I've been personally contacted by a few whose symptoms fit mine. These people are so excited to hear what I have to say. They are in the thick of it and need support. A few weeks ago I was connected with another person locally through a mutual friend. She feels alone...shamed...crazy. How many more are out there? How many of you are silently suffering because you've been gaslighted?

The shaking finally stopped in early March and I was able to start light exercise a few weeks later. The stress wreaked havoc on my body and I lost much of my endurance, muscle tone, and at least 1/3 of my hair volume. Today I'm probably at 98%...and I've been stuck here for close to 2 months. That means it only took 7 months for me to be almost fully recovered. 7 months may seem like a long time. It was. It felt like eternity. But there are people who have been suffering with this for over 2 years. I just can't imagine how I could have endured 2 years. 

Hear me, and hear me well: if this is you, you are not alone. Email me (nicolelouiseb@hotmail.com), text me, message me on FB. I want to encourage you, pray for you, pray with you, listen to you, and love on you. If you are a Long Covid sufferer and aren't making any progress, I may have ideas for you to try. I believe my experience was extreme, but I also believe that I was guided on an expedited path towards healing. Only recently did I discover what form of nervous system dysregulation I was likely experiencing (read about it HERE). It all makes a lot more sense now. Let me help you...let's make sense of it together.

This Was Meant to be a Post About Homeschooling

I've been over it for months. So completely over it.

*Sigh*

I don't see any point in sharing my opinion on today's headlines. The truth is so far buried under the dirt of world politics that there is little hope for discovery. It's kind of like watching an episode of "The Curse of Oak Island." Have you ever been sucked into that show? They are always searching out new ways to find a legendary treasure that's been buried for centuries. They find new clues and small bits of hope, but never unearth the goal. Every week a new episode, and every year a new season. 

That said, I haven't stopped asking the questions. However, I've begun to lose faith in people in general. For some, there is no such thing as logic, critical thinking, or proper debate. Seriously...it's not a thing. Y'all should read "The Fallacy Detective: 38 Lessons on How to Recognize Bad Reasoning." Answers are hard to come by, and I certainly don't have them. I'd like to be part of the discussion, but I've been reduced to being Charlie Brown's teacher..."wah wah wah, waaah wah waaah." Speaking is a waste of energy because nothing is heard or understood. All of us are enemies, except for those that agree with our "narrative" (getting real tired of that word).

This is what gets me. Why must we be enemies?

The thing is, we are no longer driven by love. We are driven by emotion. Emotions are a blessing, and they give us meaning and personality. However, we live in a culture where emotions are the compass we live by. We are told to live out "our truth" and be who we want to be and do what we want to do. Self-control is a thing of the past. Sacrifice is a thing of the past. LOVE is a thing of the past. Think about it.

I love this passage written by Peter. It explains how it's not enough to have beliefs and knowledge alone. We need to add all the other things to it! When we speak and listen using these principles we will be more effective...

"For this very reason, make every effort to supplement your faith with virtue, and virtue with knowledge, and knowledge with self-control, and self-control with steadfastness, and steadfastness with godliness, and godliness with brotherly affection, and brotherly affection with love. For if these qualities are yours and are increasing, they keep you from being ineffective or unfruitful in the knowledge of our Lord Jesus Christ."  2 Peter 1:5-8

And just because this is a passage from the Bible, written by an apostle of Jesus to first century Christians, doesn't mean it can't apply to you...yes, YOU. 21st century Christian, non-christian, political right, political left...you name it! 

There is no doubt, the world is full of people who care. They want the best of the best. They want peace, health, prosperity. Deep down we are all in self-protect mode. And I think there is grace for that. But just think...if everyone just took a step back and said things and HEARD things using love and self-control? Sprinkle in a little logical reasoning and maybe progress could be made. Maybe we could even be allies!

You know, I had intended to write a post about homeschooling. Ha! Another day. 

 

Fear and the Lady in the Checkout Line

In my past I have lived with fear. Truly crippling fear...fear that plagued every minute of every day. Fear that made me sick, caused my hair to fall out, gave me sleepless nights, and left me feeling so immensely alone. Sometimes that fear creeps back, but for the most part, I have (with God's incredible mercy) overcome. It didn't happen overnight. It took years. And I cannot help but think that so many are in that same boat today as we struggle to stay afloat in this world crisis.

Yesterday I was in the checkout line at the grocery store. There was a lady ahead of me already at the pay station...more than 6 feet away...and her pile of groceries were over halfway up the conveyor belt. Aware of my space, I felt safe to start putting my groceries on the belt. Then, like an exasperated mother reprimanding her child, the lady ahead of me demanded I wait to put my groceries on the belt. I wanted to cry. I decided to find a new line.

I've been in that lady's shoes. I know all too well. And I would do most ANYthing to not ever feel fear like that again. I found that my hands were shaking as I emptied my cart. My heart literally hurt as I contemplated our future in that moment: Our future seems grim. Our future is fear. Crippling fear. And it may take years to recover. 

So many feelings. So many opinions. So many fears. We need to stop viewing each other as enemies with sides. We ALL have fears, and our fears are different! Some are afraid of this virus, some are afraid of losing everything, some are afraid of a communist takeover...etc, etc. We need to stop assuming that our fears are somehow more justified than someone else's just because they are different. I drive down the road and signs tell me to "stay home to save lives" and I think of the 7-year-old who has to go to the store with his single mother. What thoughts plague his mind as he passes that sign? I think of the elderly lady isolated in her room as she struggles to breathe with no family by her side. Does she have the will to breathe much longer when nobody seems to care to visit? I think of the business owner who has been told he's non-essential and cannot fathom how he can recover. Does he feel that the only way out is by a bullet?

Questions. So many questions. Never stop asking questions.

If you aren't on a path towards seeking truth, then I'd suggest a new path. There are rabbit trails here and there, and I'm certainly guilty of going down many of them. I'm the type of person who researches to a fault. I once spent 3 weeks researching car seats for toddlers...spending literally countless hours reading review after review. Hey, when your child AND your hard-earned money are on the line, you better know you're getting the best and at the best deal! I digress...but truth is the ultimate goal, is it not? In John 8:31-32 Jesus says, "If you continue in My word, then you are truly disciples of Mine, and you will know the truth, and the truth will make you free." Do you believe that? I certainly do. I'm not a perfect person, but I do know that there is a perfect God and He holds the key to a life free of fear.

All that said, fear doesn't have to win in your life. Maybe take a step back and evaluate what the driving force behind your thoughts, words, and actions are. Fear can bring out the worst in me, for sure! My most favorite passage in the Bible to recite over and over is Psalm 91. When anxiety creeps in, I go to a quiet place and read it out loud to myself. Yes...out loud. I have to actually hear the words, and I believe there is power in speaking Truth audibly (that's "truth" with a capital "T"). Sometimes I have to read it until my heart stops racing, or until I fall asleep. I'll be honest, peace doesn't always come easily. I struggle with doubt, just like every other human on earth.

One last thought: GRACE. In a time when fear is at the forefront, smile when you don't want to, refrain from posting the angry comment, and for goodness sake, give people their space.

 Be well, my friends.

Lost: The Rest of the Story

It's been exactly two years (tomorrow) since I've written on this blog. I had written about the loss of my engagement ring. To me, it was an embarrassing and heartbreaking story. However, I chose to see the good in it and hoped that one day I could tell of how God had had a greater plan.

In the first few months after I lost my ring, I went through a mourning period. Finding a replacement was going to be difficult. I wanted the exact ring that Adam worked so hard to buy. When we got engaged, we were both struggling college students. And in the few months before our engagement, he had decided to take a term off of school to extend his summer internship. I didn't find out until later that his decision was driven by his plan to give me an epic engagement story (ring included). I will never forget looking inside that ring box while Adam awkwardly knelt inside that horse drawn carriage in Victoria, B.C. amidst onlookers awaiting my inevitable reply..."YES!"

There was no option to buy a brand new replacement as the jeweler was no longer local and no longer carried that design (duh...it's been a few years!). There were many many options to purchase ones that were almost the same, but that just didn't feel right to me. Ebay was my best option, and it didn't take long for me to find my ring. The only problem was that it was going to cost over $1k MORE than when Adam had purchased it brand new. I didn't want to pay that much for a used duplicate.

Over the next several months I would periodically check Ebay for 3-stone platinum rings in the hopes that I would find another one cheaper. I didn't have much luck. Then, one day around Thanksgiving  (8 months post-"tragedy") I saw that the ring I originally found was on sale. It was still going to be more than the original price, but by then I had resolved that no other replacement was going to suffice. But to be sure I had exhausted every avenue, I decided to spend a couple of hours on Ebay searching other listings...just hoping I would find one for cheaper. No such ring seemed to exist....until...I found a listing that sparked my interest. The picture was crooked and blurry. The additional pictures weren't much better. In fact, there was even a picture in the mix that wasn't of the ring listed! These folks looked like amateurs. I checked their other listings...all jewelry, and a 100% feedback score on over 2,000 sales. I was hopeful!

I was overcome with excitement at the possibility of this listing being a replacement. The price was almost too good to be true! It was only 25% of the cost of the other listing! I messaged the seller immediately requesting better pictures and asked if there was anything inscribed inside the band. He promptly replied the next morning with everything I asked...and he did NOT disappoint!! I was ecstatic!!!! There's a bit more to that story...but I'd rather not turn this post into a novel. In short, I had it shipped overnight mail (it didn't come!), and it arrived in 2 days...within a day or two of Adam and I's belated anniversary trip to Jamaica.

I really felt like finding that replacement ring was a HUGE blessing. When it arrived, I also discovered that it was the exact same size as my wedding band! It was as if it was meant to be.

Well...fast forward to earlier this month...

It was after church on Sunday, and I received a text from my friend Jackie asking me to call her. If you recall from my last post, Jackie is the owner of the sheep farm where my original ring was lost. She has been in the thick of lambing season and I thought she was wanting to see if maybe I could help out at the farm or something. Quite honestly, I wasn't expecting to hear her tell me a story and end it with."...found your ring." Say WHAT?!?!?!

You see, after searching for hours and hours in the driving rain through piles and piles sheep manure on two different occasions, we gave up. Our metal detectors (one was brand new) had both failed, and the task was just too overwhelming. We didn't know if the ring was even in the manure!

Jackie has a trusted friend that helps out on her farm who does metal detecting on the side. After we had failed to find it, she asked us if we would offer a reward to her metal detecting friend if he happened to find it. We, of course, said yes and offered up a very worthwhile price. Over the last two years that man has tried, on several occasions, to find my ring. 3 weeks ago, he was out trapping varmints on Jackie's farm and decided to take his metal detector. A varmint caught his eye over by that old manure pile, and he almost went back to his truck to exchange his metal detector for his gun...but he didn't. He found my ring instead. Adam couldn't withdraw the money fast enough...and by that afternoon, my ring...my irreplaceable treasure...had returned home.

I won't lie, it was slightly painful to pay that hefty reward after already spending the money to replace it. But, I know God's plans are greater than mine...and today I feel doubly blessed. Thank you Jesus!

Lost.

Yesterday was a full day. I had errands to do, my kids went fishing with their grandpa, we had dinner at my parents, and we ended the day helping a friend at her sheep farm. On my way into town we heard a story on the radio about a woman who accidentally threw her wedding ring away in New York City and the city sanitation workers miraculously found it. The kids and I were amazed as I glanced down at my hand and thought about what I would do if that were me.

Late that night, as I was about to settle into bed, I grabbed my left hand and felt a bare ring finger. Cue immediate panic. I summoned the kids and we started a mass search. My rings have been loose lately as I’ve lost a little weight, but not any more weight than I’d lost before (I had to get my rings sized up after having kids, so that tells you I’ve not yet reached a pre-pregnancy weight!). I went to all the places I’d been since being home for the night…feeding sheep, feeding chicks, the car, exercise downstairs, the bathroom. I called Fred Meyer because I’d been to the fitting room and thought maybe it fell off then. I was scouring my brain trying to think of when I last noticed it on. I wasn’t sure, but I had a strong feeling it was at my friend’s farm.

I prayed, asked my husband to pray, asked my parents to pray, asked Facebook to pray. I was sure that God would lead me to it somehow. I truly was sure. God led me to a lost ring one time when I was young, and that was one of my first memories of God answering a prayer that I had prayed. However, even though I knew that God could take care of this, the peace wouldn’t come. Then, a gift! God brought me a memory of sitting at my mom’s kitchen table playing with my rings before dinner. Phew! Thank you, Jesus! It was then that I knew it was either at my house or at the farm, and not at one of the public places I visited earlier in the day. It was enough peace to help me drift off to sleep.

This morning I woke to a text from Jackie (she’s my friend with the farm). She was headed over to the barn to start looking and suggested I hunt down a metal detector. Thanks to facebook, I was able to find one and after some calling and coordinating both the metal detector (my parents were bringing it from the other end of town) and I headed towards the farm an hour later.

My other friend, Beth, and her son were already there helping with farm chores. Within minutes, Beth found my rings!!! The metal detector hadn’t arrived with my parents yet, so I called them and they returned it to its owner. I was crying tears of joy…I was so overwhelmed. God had kept my rings safe and led us right to them!

I wish that was where the story ended.

Because we were there, we went ahead and started helping Jackie with more farm chores. I was constantly aware of my rings. I didn’t want to put them in my pocket for fear of losing them, so I put them back on my finger and tried my best to be constantly conscious of them. I didn’t really do much work while I was there. I mostly talked with Beth, watched the kids work, and responded to countless messages on my phone (so many wonderful people concerned about my rings!). I stayed in one general area and was constantly checking my hand to make sure my rings were still there. Then, I put my phone in my front pocket, pulled out my hand and realized my engagement ring was GONE! Seriously!?!?

I wasn’t too panicked because I hadn’t really gone anywhere. I figured I’d find it right away. We all started looking, and looking, and looking, and looking….and looking! I was dumbfounded and so embarrassed. I had just told Facebookland that my rings were found. We looked for at least 30 minutes before I finally text my parents to bring the metal detector. My mom came and we searched everywhere…MULTIPLE times. I was on my hands and knees in sheep poo! After everyone left, my mom and I and the kids all went to the giant poop pile in the field to search there as well. There was only a very slight chance it could have been in the poop pile that had just been shoveled out of the area I was standing in…but we couldn’t leave without searching. In total, we searched for at least 3 hours.

It didn’t make sense. I had never left that small (enclosed) area of the barn. In the time that I had it on my finger to the time that I realized it was missing was probably less than 5 minutes…but maybe I’m mistaken? I'd venture to say that it literally vanished.

I left the farm feeling quite defeated and sad, but strangely at peace.

I know where my ring is. It’s at a farm where my friend Jackie raises sheep. Jackie needs help because she very recently lost her husband to brain cancer and the farm chores during lambing season are too overwhelming for one person. Jackie lost her husband. I only lost my ring. And in the time that I was there, Jackie never ceased to encourage me and remind me of God’s power and His blessings. She is a blessing.

The verse that has been playing over and over in my head today…

“And we know that for those who love God all things work together for good for those who are called according to his purpose.” Romans 8:28

I’m praying for the good. Maybe my ring has been hidden from me until God’s decides the time is right? You see, my God likes all the glory…and when my ring has been found, I’m gonna gladly give Him what He wants.

To be continued…

Church is Family

Family. Nobody should be without it.

Yesterday I was one of the teachers for children's church. The Bible application was a bit of a stretch for young kids, but the basis was about how the Lord blesses our families through us. We started out by putting the kids into two groups and asking them to make a list of things they had in common with each other. This was the absolute best. I loved watching them discover one another...smile, laugh, and even share in disgust. The other teacher and I wanted to let this activity linger. We decided that THIS was exactly what we needed to be doing in kid's church every single sunday (in some way). We ended up greatly modifying the lesson, and even changed the memory verse for the week. To be honest, the original Bible application was virtually lost. But hearts were blessed through this little family...the little children's church family.

There's an old chorus we used to sing at church all the time when I was a kid and it started out: "I'm so glad I'm a part of the Family of God..." Inherently, we all want to be a part of something bigger than ourselves. We want relationships. We need them, actually. Instead, so many of us are stuck in our own self-pity ("the church didn't reach out to me" or "the church offended me"), or our own self-righteousness ("I don't need the church"). The Family of God (church) is not immune to drama, scandal, cliques, deceit, failure, gossip, etc. And what's sad to me is that people leave the church because of these very things. As a result, issues are never dealt with and the spiritual growth of the church is stunted. But what the church needs is for those people to stay, share what they have in common, as well as their hurts, fears, joys, wisdom, etc. We need to help carry each other's burdens and love unconditionally. Sometimes, all that requires of us is that we just be there.

I had a lot more written on this topic, but I decided to erase it all. I don't know if it was because of fear (lack of faith), or wisdom. Or maybe I'm just a coward for not pointing out the truth. My imperfections and insecurities certainly don't help me to be bold for Christ. Whatever the reason, I just don't think the easily offended world wants to hear what I have to say.  However, I will ask this one question: If you call yourself a Christian, and you've excluded yourself from the Church (Family of God), what's your reasoning?

"The way God designed our bodies is a model for understanding our lives together as a church: every part dependent on every other part, the parts we mention and the parts we don’t, the parts we see and the parts we don’t. If one part hurts, every other part is involved in the hurt, and in the healing. If one part flourishes, every other part enters into the exuberance." (1 Corinthians 12:25-26 The Message)

We need to stick together through all the "yuck" and all the "yay."

And that's that.

The Good Word

Ever feel like you've been sucked into the vortex of article/blog overload? Everyone has an opinion. It doesn't matter what the topic is, somehow the writer manages to sway you one way or another. You may think you have kept your preconceived thoughts, and you are completely unconscious of the stronghold those written words have had on you. Influence. It's everywhere.

Today, as I was perusing my Facebook feed, I clicked on several "good reads." Some were local articles or news, others anecdotal, and a couple were of the religious/Christian genre. It's the latter that often sparks my attention the most. "What does this person have to say? And do I agree with it? I respect the person that 'shared' it...does that mean that this is what that person thinks? Should I share this post?" And so on. It was today, though, that I had stopped the dialogue going on in my head and said, "Enough."

The pause occurred while I was reading a fantastic blog. I had read it before, and I was going over the eloquent musings all over again. The author was sharing her thoughts on the importance of going to and bringing our kids up in church even when modern Christian-ish culture gives us countless excuses of why we shouldn't have to. My mind began racing. I was thinking of all the "good" sharing this blog could do. I thought, "It might make people question their priorities and make better choices." Then, the dreaded happened. A list of people started forming in my head. And it was then that I stopped myself. I didn't share it...I didn't even "like" it. Instead, I asked God's forgiveness.

I prayed, "Who am I, Lord?"

And then I thought of that blog writer..."Who is she, Lord?"

Thankfully, I knew that the answers were, "You are Mine, and she is Mine."

And that's just it!

Everyone that needed to hear that blog..."They are Yours, Lord...not mine."

Convicted.

Too often, I think, Christians rely on the thoughts of others to guide them through life. We buy the latest book from our favorite inspirational author at take notes in our journal. We attend the church Bible study and eat all the delicious desserts with some lovely people. We watch Christian movies and feel good about making good media choices. We scour YouTube for encouraging tidbits from our favorite pastors/speakers and think, "Ooo, that was a good word!" And I suppose these are all good things. I suppose we should do these things. Don't stop doing these things. But if these are the only things we're doing, then we've got it all wrong. We shouldn't be relying on the thoughts and studies of others, but rather the thoughts of God Himself and what he wants to say to us alone.

Convicted again.

I've got to read my Bible. Our church has been doing a series the past several weeks on spiritual disciplines. And after every Sunday I could honestly say, "Ooo, that was a good word!" Meditation, prayer, fasting, and Bible reading. I'm not doing enough of any of these things...and even if I was doing "enough"it still wouldn't be enough. I confess, I've struggled with reading my Bible my entire life. I've never stopped trying, but it's almost like I don't really know how to do it, how to start...it's overwhelming. I've stuck to the passages I know: the encouraging sections, the Psalms and Proverbs, the Gospels, and I've dipped my toes into the prophetic books. I know there's so much more. I also know God has a plan for me, and if I seek his Word, he'll help me find my way. I just have to start.

For the month of February I'm setting aside the pile of books that sits next to my bed. And for every night this month I'm planning to copy Bible verses in my journal from a list a friend shared. Seems so simple...a bit juvenile maybe...but I'm really looking forward to it. I'm excited to hear what God has to say to me through His "good Word."

Here's the list if you want to try it out too!

PS...

For Christmas I purchased the "Action Bible" for my kids to read. It is a book that has most all (if not all) of the stories of the Bible written in comic form. My kids know that it isn't a full Bible, but a fun way to read and understand God's story. It's a big book...and last night my son (he's 9) announced he'd finished the entire thing. The amazing thing is that he's now my walking Bible dictionary! He helps me figure Bible story details, corrects me when I'm wrong, and knows stories I've never read. Inspiring :)