Finding new life in Baghdad by the Bay

Lessons from a child

Jesus said, “Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these.”

There is apparently much I can learn from my infant daughter, especially about my relationship with Jesus.  I discovered this a few weeks ago when my mother-in-law came for a 2 week visit.  We were running errands in the car, and my daughter Caitlin - all of two and a half weeks old and not a fan of the car seat (she still isn't) - was in the back seat next to me, screaming her head off.

What to do?  I tried everything I could think of off the top of my head - holding her hand, shushing next to her ear, talking to her gently - but nothing was working.  The screams just got louder and we all were feeling a bit harried and distressed.  

Then, a thought came to mind - what if I placed one hand on each side of her head, so that the only thing she could look at was me?  Maybe she would see my face, and that would calm her down a bit.  So I tried just that - I put my hands on the sides of her face, looked her right in the eyes, and repeated in a calm, gentle voice, "Daddy's here.  Just look at your daddy.  Everything is ok.  Daddy's here.  Just look at your daddy.  Everything is ok."

To my surprise, her eyes locked with mine and the crying stopped.  As long as her gaze was focused on me, she remained calm.  

Look to your father for comfort; I think someone in the Bible may have said something similar.  Jesus gives a call in the gospels to cast all anxieties on him, shouldering the heavy burdens we can't carry.  There have been times over the past year when I've quite literally felt crushed by the burden of pain, sickness, anxiety and worry - and yet I didn't run to Jesus, instead trying to fix things on my own.  

I still struggle with this on a daily basis, looking to everything but Jesus for my strength and comfort.  I remember that day, comforting my daughter, feeling tears well up in my eyes as I thought of the theological implications of what I was doing.  If only I would open the eyes of my heart, I would see Jesus, holding me tight and offering the very comfort I need.  I can approach the throne of grace with confidence - why?  Because Jesus has been through everything I'm experiencing, and understands my pain and suffering.  He knows, and I can trust him with the burdens I can't handle on my own.

That's the hard part - trusting him, truly trusting him with this.  Especially when I know that receiving his comfort does not guarantee removal of my difficult circumstances.  That's the comfort I want - escape from suffering - and sometimes my heart rebels when it doesn't immediately get that.  

Well, I can hear my daughter crying inconsolably now.  At least she has an excuse - she's a baby!  Me - I still have so much more to learn.

40 Hours That Changed Everything

7:49 am on March 22nd - the moment everything changed.  That was the moment my daughter, Caitlin Grace Zondervan, came into the world and became the newest member of the Zondervan family.

What a journey it was!  My wife and I both felt strongly that we wanted to have the baby naturally (that is, no hospital, no doctors, no random people coming in and out of the room at random times to poke at my wife's privates, no machines going beep, no pain medications and no epidurals), and decided to utilize the services of the midwives at the Puget Sound Birth Center.  We also hired a Doula to help as well - basically a professional birth coach who would be with us through the entire stay at the birth center.

Erin started having regular contractions at around 5pm on Tuesday, March 20th.  The intensity level was relatively low - she could still talk through them - and we stayed calm.  I went up to bed later that night to get some rest; my wife ended up crashing on the couch so she could nap upright during the contractions.  

I woke up early the next morning, not knowing what to expect.  Erin was still downstairs, and still pregnant.  Contractions continued all morning long, but were still mild enough that she could talk through them.  We watched a marathon on TV of Gordon Ramsey's "Kitchen Nightmares" while hanging out, occasionally using an app on our phones to time her contractions.  To help pass the time we baked chocolate stout beer cupcakes with Irish Cream buttercream frosting (yum!) and oatmeal chocolate chip cookies.

Then, around 3pm things really kicked into high gear - the contractions got much more intense (Erin couldn't talk through them anymore), to the point my wife started throwing up.  After a quick talk with the midwives, we were told to grab our bags and head to the birth center.  It was finally happening!

At that point everything became a blur.  I grabbed all the items we had prepared and got the car ready for the 20 or so mile drive to Kirkland.  Erin got in the back seat and I took off like a man on a mission - I've never driven so fast in Seattle!  From the rear I could hear my wife moaning; I thought she was having one giant contraction, and that the baby might be born in our back seat!

Soon enough we had arrived at the birth center, and were ushered to our birthing suite.  On the bed, the midwife did an examination - Erin was already fully effaced, with a paper-thin cervix that was already 5-6 cm dilated.  Woo hoo!  We both figured baby would be out before midnight.  I decided to quick run to Costco for a hot dog - fuel for the adventure to come!  

When I got back, it seemed as though the intensity level had switched down a few notches.  Erin was still having contractions, but they were really far apart and not terribly strong.  The midwives did some blood work, and the results were a bit worrisome - Erin was borderline preclampsia, which put her at risk for seizures.  My wife kept laboring the night away, with the team of midwives and our doula helping her, but things just weren't speeding up and she was getting very tired.

Fortunately via doppler the midwives could tell the baby was not under any stress, but they were still concerned that Erin might get too tired to keep going on her own.  A check of her cervix revealed some bad news - she had only dilated to 7cm, and because the baby's head was pressing so hard on the cervix, it was starting to swell.  The doula and midwives did some brainstorming, and with our consent decided to break her water.  Erin got on the birthing stool and before I knew it the deed had been done.  At the urging of my wife, I went into an adjacent room to take a short nap.  I hadn't gone through a tenth of what my wife had, and I was completely exhausted!

Shortly before 2am I awoke and went back into the birthing suite; Erin was now in the birthing tub, and her contracts were now much more intense and getting closer together.  Woo-hoo!  We were getting close!  Were we getting close?  I couldn't tell - Erin still wasn't pushing, so the midwives got her out of the tub and started trying different positions.  On the birth stool.  Standing next to the bed.  Lying on the bed.  On hands and knees on the bed.  Then back standing up.  Suddenly, around 4:30am, Erin said, "I feel like pushing!"  YES!  "Go ahead and push" was the response she got from the midwives.  We were finally in the home stretch!

What a long, long home stretch it would turn out to be.  Most women push for 30 minutes to 3 hours.  Erin ended up pushing for 3 and a half hours.  This was the one time when I really started to get a little worried; could she take much more of this?  Erin looked so tired.  With each push we could see the baby's head, but my wife seemed "stuck" at this same spot for what felt like an eternity.  Finally the midwives had her get back on the birthing stool.  Erin tensed up her entire body, pushing with all her might and screaming (she later said she felt like she was going to pass out!), and then, like a rocket, out came baby!!!

What happened next truly seems like a blur - still on the birthing stool and in complete shock, one of the midwives handed the baby to Erin.  I swooped in, trying to get a good glimpse of our baby - was it a girl?  A boy?  The room was so dark, and so many people were standing around that I couldn't tell.  Then, I though I saw something - an appendage of sorts hanging between the baby's legs - a boy!  I said "It's a boy!"  Then, one of the midwives moved the hanging tissue away, which happened to be the umbilical cord, to reveal the baby's gender - a girl!  We had a little girl!  "It's a girl!" I exclaimed.  We quickly decided on the name - Caitlin Grace Zondervan.

The next few hours were a flurry of activity: the placenta came out, Caitlin got a full newborn exam (all good) and weigh in (6 lbs 11oz), Erin had some tearing sown up by the midwife, and I took a warm bath to soothe my now very aching back.    The big test came quickly - would Caitlin nurse easily?  To our relief, with a bit of kicking and squirming she quickly found the goods, latched on, and started eating.

Around 11:30am I went to the car to bring out our stuff and grab Caitlin's car seat.  The midwives came back with us to make sure the car seat was installed properly, and before we knew it we were on our way home to a new life.  We were parents - holy cow we had a baby!!!  

And that changed everything.

Embracing the Way God Heals You

Yesterday I picked up a new book from the Library, "A Lifetime of Wisdom - Embracing the Way God Heals You" by Joni Eareckson Tada.  Instead of going through the book alone I'm reading it out loud to my wife.  This is good for many reasons, but critical for me because already numerous parts of this book have hit me like a ton of bricks.

For those who know a bit about Joni's story, the title "Embracing the Way God Heals You" might initially sound a bit odd - afterall, she is just as paralyzed (from the neck down) today as she was on that fateful day as a teenager in 1967.  She freely admits in the book that 40+ years of being disabled and in a wheelchair have in many ways intensified her suffering.  That doesn't sound like healing does it?  

Of course, I know that suffering goes far beyond the physical, and involves the psychological and spiritual as well.  Joni Eareckson Tada may not be able to walk, but she lives on this earth as a free woman.  I have to confess, reading this book has been hard.  Really, really hard.  I'm only in the first chapter, and I find myself balking at the things she has to say, wanting to fight God instead of surrendering to him.  

The same section hit my wife and I hardest this afternoon, a paragraph from page 27:

"What do we do when we repress our disappointment and anger before the Lord?  All we've done is shove the problem to the back burner.  There it simmers.  This is real trouble.  We can't smell problems burning when they're repressed.  And so we naively think "things will work out."  But they don't.  Hope is aroused, then deferred.  It revives, then gets snuffed out again.  'Hope deferred makes the heart sick' (Proverbs 13:12).

Then the fire goes out and our hearts become stone cold."

That pretty much describes where I've been the last year or so - stone cold, a pot of anger and disappointment sitting on the back-burner.  Why do I hide from God what he can so clearly see?  Why not tell him what I really feel instead of trying to make my (empty) prayers sound so pretty and theologically correct?  

When it comes to my health, life really sucks.  It just does.  I can try to spiritualize things but in the end it doesn't change the fact that I hate whats happened to my body, and miss the life I once had terribly.  I see people twice my age jogging past and it cuts like a knife - why God, why me, why this, why now?  

Well - I think I'm reading the right book at the right time.  I have so much to learn, so many ways I need to grow, change, and be transformed.  I'm so thankful his grace is sufficient because I'm going to need truckloads of it in the days to come!

Jesus, my friend

"He makes me lie down in green pastures..."

Last night after dinner our good friend Iris shared a scripture from one of the most well-known passages in the Bible.  I'd heard it hundreds of times before - in fact, had known it from memory since childhood - but never thought of it this way.  

She read Psalm 23, and emphasized verse 2:

"He makes me lie down in green pastures..."

The emphasis was an illustration - Jesus desires intimacy and fellowship with us, and sometimes like lost sheep we need to be led to a place of rest by our good shepherd.  

I hate resting.  If I had things my way I'd go, go, GO - always moving, always doing something, always on a new adventure, always doing.  For the last 8 months I haven't been able to do that, and I've felt lost.  Instead of entering into God's rest I've frantically tried to find ways to get back to my old perpetual motion - but in hindsight, not really going anywhere - ways.  Distraction is a great way to (attempt to) avoid intimacy with Jesus.

Do I think God "did this to me" so I would slow down and spend time with him?  No - I don't think life works like that.  I was just as able to rest and spend time with God before my pain issues started as I am now - probably more able in fact because my mind was so much clearer.  My wife will be having a baby any day now - not exactly quiet green pastures!  I just feel the Lord gently saying he desires I know him more, meeting him in those quiet resting places.  

 

The Gospel of Pain

"Make me to know your ways, O LORD; teach me your paths.

"Good and upright is the LORD; therefore he instructs sinners in the way.  He leads the humble in what is right, and teaches the humble his way."  (Ps 25:4,8-9)

"Naked I came from my mother's womb, and naked shall I return.  The LORD gave, and the LORD has taken away; blessed be the name of the LORD."  (Job 1:21)

Humility - over the past 8 months I've started to learn quite a bit about this personal characteristic.  For example, that I've had an overabundance of the false kind, combined with an instinctive desire to hide in a corner while suffering rather than open my mouth and admit I needed help.  I think I am "sparing" my loved ones from my pain; in reality I just make it worse because when I do finally break down things are really bad.

I recently confessed to my wife, family, and friends a serious battle with depression that started about six weeks ago.  Why I thought people would be shocked is curious - no one was.  In fact, many had suspected it for quite some time.  Why wouldn't they?  How many people could live with serious chronic pain for 8 months with no end in sight, lose their job with a baby on the way and not get a little down?  Maybe some people - but I definitely wasn't one of them.  

I really wanted to be though!  I wanted to be so badly Mr. Strong Man who shrugged off life's troubles combined with Mr. Spiritual who looked towards the sky with a smile and said "Jesus will take care of everything" in response to every trial and tribulation.  Yeah, not so much.  Lately my response to pain and suffering is to give in to the voice that says, "This will never change - you have no hope" and sink into a deep, dark hole.  

Christians love to turn to the book of Job when people face suffering of unknown origin, and well they should.  To question why something has happened is really a fruitless endeavour - I'll never know, and it might drive me crazy in the process.  Job simply recognizes the obvious - good things happen ("He gives), bad things happen ("He takes away"), but God is still the same.  He is good, in spite of life's circumstances, and worthy of our praise.

Do I believe God is good?  In my head, yes.  In my heart... that has been a bigger struggle.  Perhaps more accurate would be to confess a hard time believing it really matters (a good Calvinist position right?).  God is sovereign, he will do what he's going to do, so why bother asking him to change things?  God could change my situation at this very moment, but he hasn't.  Countless prayers have been offered up, some by me, but far more by my wife, family, and friends, and so far they have gone unanswered.  

My heart has been very cold over the past month and a half, but I think I have a better understanding as to why.  One of the deacons from our fellowship came over last week to talk me through what would be my lowest of low points (thus far).  He challenged me to consider what gospel I was believing - the gospel of Jesus Christ, or as he put it, the gospel of pain.  The latter teaches that my salvation is in relief from pain and suffering.  Now don't get me wrong; in no way was this man saying it was sinful or disobedient to ask God for healing or relief from pain.  Quite the opposite - I and anyone else who desires should ask him often and repeatedly for these things!  

However, to essentially put my faith in physical comfort instead of Jesus was a slippery slope - and ultimately deadly trap.  Why?  Because what happens when the desired and requested healing and relief of pain don't happen?  Where does my mind go when suffering actually gets worse instead of better?  Do I run to hope, or despair?  Despair of course, because the object of my faith has failed.  It has failed over and over again.  Then the lies come in - "No healing = no hope.  Just give up."

That's why I referenced Psalm 25, because David seems to have a grasp on something that so far has escaped my understanding.  We follow God, not the other way around.  I don't tell him what to do, but rather need to ask every day what he desires for me to do.  The Lord can either lead me down his paths, or I can stumble and fall down my own (I'm a certified expert at this!).  I haven't wanted God to teach me anything; rather I've simply asked that he fix my problems, foolishly believing that once he did, well then I'd be up for listening and being led.  Is that a humble heart?  No.  Again - nothing wrong with asking God to heal me!!!  What's wrong is the heart underlying those requests - a heart that refuses to submit to God until I have the life I (think I) deserve.  

Do I still hope for healing?  Yes!  Do I still look for medical answers to my issues with my back, legs, and feet?  Of course!  Does the fact that I'm suffering excuse my sin?  No way.  Is there much I can learn through this season of pain?  Very much.  Am I ready to do that?  Grrr... I'll be honest I'm dragging my feet, but I think I can finally answer, "yes."

Brotherhood

"Behold, how good and pleasant it is when brothers dwell in unity." (Psalm 133:1)

I ran into my friend Jay this morning at my old church in Pella. It was healing Sunday, and I had just finished an intense time of prayer with some men there - not just physical healing, but also spiritual restoration for a very weary soul.

The second we greeted each other I could sense his deep concern, and as I honestly shared about how things have been I saw his eyes begin to moisten with tears. Jay got to know me through a men's Bible study six years ago; I don't think either one of us ever thought we'd be having a discussion like this.

Yet we were; and like so many others who love and care for me he desperately wanted to have an answer, something - anything to relieve my pain and suffering.

He couldn't give me that. Instead, he simply stood at my side as a brother, put an arm on my shoulder and cried out for God to do what we cannot. I can't count the number of times in the past six months I've felt as though I can't go on anymore. Thank God for the gift of brotherhood, for moments like this that help to press on.

The Meaning of Worship

Last week one of the elders from our fellowship stopped by to talk with me about everything that has been happening over the past year or so.  Most of the time he just listened, which was great - he already knew that trying to "fix" me wasn't going to be much comfort.

Towards the end of our conversation he asked me a simple, direct question, "Ryan, what is worship?"  I sat for a moment, and then Romans 12:1,2 popped into my head.  I replied, "Well, Romans 12:1,2 comes to mind, that I use my body as a living sacrifice to God."  He then asked how my body was a living sacrifice; I stopped for a moment, then shared, "Honestly right now I don't know.  I can't *do* much these days."  At that point we pulled out our Bibles, turned to Romans 11:36 - Romans 12:1,2, and continued our discussion.

Romans 11:36 says, "For from him and through him and to him are all things.  To him be glory forever. Amen."  We talked about lies the enemy uses against us; a common one for people going through suffering is "This is my life and it has been taken away from me."  If all things are from God, then is my life truly mine?  Or was it a gift, given by him to use for his glory?  Obviously the answer is the latter, but my sin often distorts this fact.  Nothing can be taken from me that I wasn't given in the first place, nor can I receive anything that doesn't originiate from God.  The life I have today is a gift from the Lord, one I can use for his glory.  Worship is giving to God what is his to begin with.

But how?  Most days I feel so incapacitated, limited, and weak.  On days when the pain or nausea from medications is really bad, I feel lucky to make it out of bed, let alone accomplish anything else.  Life feels like one long re-run of the movie Groundhog Day, a slow-motion existence with little sense of purpose or direction.  At this point we talked about a great truth - God is not incapacitated by my weakness.  In fact, the Word reveals God is actually glorified through it!  "My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness." (II Cor 12:9)  

What does this look like in my life right now?  We talked about this for a bit; basically, it means I use the life I have today to serve the Lord in any way possible.  At the moment, that means things like doing the dishes, or taking care of laundry, making my wife breakfast in the morning, rubbing her back at night when she has pregnancy aches and pains, taking time to read the Bible with my wife and pray with her, running simple errands, and so on.  

Why?  We talked about what a dangerous question this is to ask and even more dangerous place to get stuck.  Can I ever know the mind of God, or genuinely claim to understand his plans and purposes?  No - so why even go there?  Again, I go back to Romans 12:1,2 - I can't control what happens, but by being transformed by the Spirit I can discern how I should live and react when faced with life's circumstances.

Am I suffering right now?  Yes.  Do I know why?  No.  Does is really matter in the end?  No.  Can I still worship God, limited though I may be?  Yes, yes, a thousand times yes - if anything, my weakness just makes him greater, and that definitely is worship.

Be Not Afraid

Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged, for the LORD your God will be with you wherever you go. (Joshua 1:9)

One of the first arguments my wife and I ever had revolved around the condo she (and now we) owned; I wanted her to sell it before we got married, while she felt this was simply not practical or possible at the time.  I'd concocted some logical arguments in my head as to why she should sell, but really my reasoning was based largely on fear -  I finally shared this and explained my paranoia that perhaps one day I - or we - might lose my job in a weak real estate market and be stuck in a home we could neither afford nor sell (without taking a huge financial loss).  

I'm beginning to realize just how big a role fear has played in my life since getting married, and even before then.  I think it kicked into high gear when I injured my left knee three years ago - the fear then was that maybe someday I wouldn't be able to run anymore, and perhaps hike or backpack as well.  Those fears intensified in August of 2010 when I somehow injured my right hip - the knee had never healed, and now I was having a hard time even walking.  Then, a year ago the lower back pain started.  By late spring, after numerous physical therapy appointments, chiropractic adjustments, and bucket loads of ibuprofen, the pain was slowly getting worse and a new fear crept in - what if I was unable to work?  

Could that really happen?  "Never," I thought.  I'd always bounced back in the past, gotten over aches and pains, toughed my way through the rough spots.  I was strong, healthy, active - things like this didn't happen to people like me.  I was going to get better... maybe.  In the deep recesses of my mind I was consumed with doubt, worry, and fear.

In July we discovered my wife was pregnant.  Funny - this would be the same month a labral tear was discovered in my right hip and the back pain spun wildly out of control.  Now I found myself consumed with yet another fear - how could I ever be a father in this condition?  I could barely take care of myself; how would I ever take care of my wife and kids?

August arrived with gorgeous blue skies, and a request to go on medical leave.  Normally this time of year I'd be exploring the mountains at every possible opportunity; now I was curled up in a ball on the couch, in so much pain I could barely move.  The doctor's appointments, medications, treatments,  and therapies seemed endless (as did the medical bills), but I found no relief.  In fact, things just seemed to get worse.  Yet another fear crept in - what if I lost my job?  What if I was unable to return to work?  Two weeks later my wife lost her job, and these fears really amped up.

I stand (well, sit rather uncomfortably actually) here six months later facing the following realities:  my left knee has never healed, my right hip still bothers me, my lower back hurts pretty much 24/7, I lost my job and am officially disabled, our home was on the market 90 days and didn't receive a single offer, I'm in physical therapy again but it doesn't seem to be helping, and the side effects of my medications seem to be far worse than any benefits I receive from them.  Basically every fear I had has now come to pass.

Why is this happening?  I have no idea.  When will it end?  I wish I knew!  How do I make it through the day?  Good question!  Sometimes I feel like I'm going crazy; other times I wish I could just curl up in a ball and vanish.  I figure it must be the strength the Lord promises, at times provided in the form of my loving and devoted wife.  I certainly couldn't do this on my own - no way, no how!  

Last week I heard the Lord speak to me audibly; in fact twice in one day.  "Jesus is all you have."  Why that word, and why now?  In retrospect I see it as a gift of grace; if I was putting my hope in anything but Jesus, I was bound to be sorely disappointed and let down.  Sometimes I put my hope in getting better physically; I have a good day and become almost euphoric.  "Things have finally turned a corner - I'm really getting better," only to have the next day be filled with physical pain, leaving me with a crushed spirit.  Other times I lift my wife up on a pedestal and want to worship her, just to have her brought back down to earth when I observe she too is affected by the fall and subject to the consequences of sin.  She can't save me; I couldn't save myself if my life depended on it, so why would I transfer that role to her?

My mind goes funny places when it is overcome by fear, desperately looking for a means of escape.  I want my pain to go away.  I want my body back, to feel "normal" again, for life to be (in my opinion anyway) easy & predictable.  Maybe what I want more than anything is that subtle but oh so seductive illusion of control; right now life feels like a never-ending stream of chaos and pain.

Do I still fear?  YES - the Word tells me not to, tells me exactly who I can trust (Jesus) and why... and yet I still fear.  A lot.  Especially about my health - a new day brings a new ache, dysfunction, or side effect and my mind kicks into worry overdrive.  

I so wish this whole season had turned me into a spiritual superman, a model of how to suffer well as a Christian.  Instead I'm reminded of the gospel - that Jesus came as the perfect sacrifice for sin precisely because I couldn't atone for even my own this morning, let alone a lifetime.  He provides the strength I lack to do what I otherwise could not.  Right now, he gives what I need to get up in the morning, do what I can to help my wife, and continue to push on and seek for anything that might help my body heal.  My wife and I continue to marvel at how he has miraculously provided; six months into this incredibly difficult season and so far we haven't had to dig into our savings once to pay for bills.  We also continue to thank the Lord for what a relatively easy pregnancy he's given my wife, and what a blessing that has been when my own days are often filled with such suffering.  

I still want a way out; so badly at times that I want this more than I want Jesus - and yet Jesus is all I have.  

8 Year Anniversary

January marks 8 years of sobriety ; considering my current circumstances it makes for some interesting reflection. I promise to write more about this soon; in fact I need to write more period. Between pain and nausea I haven't felt like writing, or doing much of anything to be honest. Life feels a bit like Groundhog Day; the same thing over and over with no end in sight. Still, I never stop believing that things can change, that God will see me through this. I can't help but think about what my friend Kathy shared - "Ryan, this will end - it just might not end the way you think." That has already proven true - but more on that soon too.

Sick Cycle Carosel

"This is my comfort in my affliction, that your promise gives me life." (Ps 119:50 ESV)

Up, down, up, down - that pretty much describes the past month. Lots of ups and no shortage of downs as well, with a heaping side order of pain and nausea to go with everything. I now understand why my naturopath doctor advised me to steer clear of pain management - you go in and come out a differerent person.

I wanted with all my heart to stick with naturopathic medicine, but sadly in my case it provided lots of doctor bills and absolutely zero pain relief. That isn't the case for everyone and I still feel it is the way to go if possible. The pain management clinic was an option of absolute last resort. I've been treated by some truly wonderful physicians there, and some not so great. At the end of the day I'm essentially left with pills, pills, and more pills, all of which seem to be great at relieving pain and making me very sick.

On top of this all is a real clinical diagnosis (through the excellent neurology clinic at the University of Washington) - peripheral neuropathy. In a nutshell this means small nerve damage, which causes all sorts of wacky things to happen, along with chronic pain. In my case the nerves that control heart rate and blood pressure don't always work right. Sometimes when I stand up the blood vessles in my legs don't constrict like they should; as a result my blood pressure drops, sending my heart racing and head spinning.

I also "flunked" a glucose tolerance test. Translation: I may be developing a diabetic condition (which can cause neuropathies). Yes, Mr. Baker of all things sweet may be diabetic. Figures eh?

What to do? Four months on now and there is no end in sight. At times my wonderful wife breaks down and cries for both of us. Me? I feel completely numb to everything, including God at times. People keep reminding me this will not last forever, that things WILL change, and I know they are right. But man, can God please hurry it up a bit?!?

That is my desire; yet, for reasons we don't understand it is not his will right now. One day in the doctor's office my wife met a woman who could have come right out of the gospels - sick for years with a mysterious ailment that no one could treat, with no job and every last penny spent. The world is full of people who suffer silently, invisible to society. I never thought much about it until I became one of them. Numb as I might be at least the Lord has opened my eyes and softened my heart a bit.

So where is my comfort in affliction? The Psalmist turned to God; ultimately I know my hope is in Jesus, but when I doubled over in pain I'm ashamed to confess it often becomes a narcotic pain medication. Until my functional savior leaves me paralyzed with nausea and
/or dizziness - then for a moment I occasionally fall into a pit of despair. Fortunately the Psalmists know all about that pit too.

I wish once again this whole experience were making me a spiritual superman; instead they remind me that I am saved by GRACE, and that when I am at my weakest God's strength shines through most clearly.