Paths

Wednesday, November 16, 2022.  Just hours after I wrote my post yesterday, I got a call moving my appointment up to just two weeks away.  God at work in my life again.  It got me thinking of how I got to this point.  I read that with this infection the sooner it’s discovered and treated, the better your chances of limiting lung damage. Mine was discovered through a CT scan of my heart.  The scan was done because an EKG showed that my heartbeat was low-voltage.  My heart was being checked to see if it was the cause of my fatigue.  My heart was perfectly healthy, but they saw the tiny spot on my lung which grew rapidly and brought me to where I am now.  So through a roundabout path God got me early treatment.  And then there’s the path that led us to where we live now which couldn’t be better for us at this point in our lives.  Before we moved to the Outer Banks, I would have never dreamed I’d be living in central North Carolina.  But living at the beach means you vacation somewhere else which is how we discovered this area.  We always thought we wanted a big piece of land and actually bought a lot to build on.  Then we decided we wanted to be mortgage-free so we bought a townhouse and sold the lot.  But after living in the townhouse, we decided we didn’t like sharing walls but we did like the perks of having our outdoor space maintained by a community association.  That led us here.  An individual home with a beautiful park, trees everywhere, and sidewalks for walkability.  There is no way I could have managed getting outdoors as much as I do anywhere other than a neighborhood like this with its level sidewalks that I can use my rollator on.  There is a line from an old Patty Loveless song “I thought I walked a twisted trail till I saw where it led me to, like a moonbeam across the water, I came straight to you”.  Looking back through the years, I can see how God led me here, but the paths in my life would seem twisted if I viewed them without the eyes of my faith.  “In all your ways acknowledge Him, And He shall direct your paths.” (Proverbs 3:6 NKJV)  Yes.  He will.  God is the moonbeam across the water, and He will lead you to your best life if you let Him.  Amen.

My Guiding Light

Tuesday, November 15, 2022.  I have a MAC lung infection.  I just read more about it, and I wish I hadn’t.  I was diagnosed in the weeks after the bronchoscopy I had on October 7th, but I couldn’t get an appointment with a pulmonologist who deals with these things till February.  They’re trying to get me in sooner, but part of what’s happening now is they’re trying to find which antibiotics will treat this.  Apparently, there are many strains and it’s quite a long process to nail down which antibiotics will work.  Once they do, I will probably be on two or three antibiotics for up to a year.  The side effects from them can be pretty awful, and I’ll need continual testing to know when the infection is gone.  In the meantime, the infection itself can possibly cause significant lung damage.  Those are among the things I wish I hadn’t read.  How am I going to get through this?  I was getting scared and upset when a line from a prayer I say every day to my guardian angel popped into my head.  “Protect me from every influence of Satan that I may not fall into sin.”  (Of course, it didn’t just pop into my head.  God was comforting me.)  I don’t think worry is a sin, but I do think that it’s Satan’s influence that can steal our joy.  And I’m not going to let that happen.  I don’t know anything for sure yet, and worrying isn’t going to help at all.  Jesus says, “Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself.  Each day has enough trouble of its own.” (Matthew 6:34 NIV).  So I’m going to do my best to take each day as it comes and enjoy this time before the treatment starts.  And who knows? Maybe the treatment won’t be that bad.  But even if it is, I’m going to draw my strength and my hope from Jesus.  “…Weeping may endure for a night, But joy comes in the morning.” (Psalms 30:5 NKJV)  Praying, talking with Jesus, and drawing comfort from my Bible are the things that will get me through anything.  I might temporarily stumble because I’m human, but I’ll always find my way back with Him as my guiding light.

Grief

Sunday, November 6, 2022.  We’ve all heard that grief comes in waves.  It washes over you, overwhelms you, and then backs off until the next surge.  Eventually, the waves don’t crash over you quite as hard, but like the ocean, grief is always there waiting to drench you again.  What I’ve been thinking about lately is how you move on.  When we lived at the ocean, we used to walk out to see it all the time.  We’d sit and watch, entranced by it.  And it was always a struggle to decide when to walk away.  There was always one more wave that we wanted to wait for.  Obviously, we had to walk away at some point, but we always knew we could come back because the ocean is always there.  Grief is like that.  It’s always there, and it’s so hard to make the decision to walk away from it.  You feel like you’re leaving you’re loved one behind somehow.  But unlike the ocean, you can carry them with you.  The hard part is separating them from the grief; realizing that both can exist but they don’t need to be forever tied together.  I’m certainly no expert, and I know each person grieves in their own way.  But when I was praying about how to move forward after losing Jeff’s mom, God put this image on my heart.  We lost my mom seven years ago yesterday, so I think this week in November will always be a difficult one for us in the years ahead.  I was able to think of my mom without it tearing me apart at some point, and I know we’ll get there with Jeff’s mom, too.  My moms didn’t have the opportunity to know each other too well here on earth, but I’m hoping they’re having a grand time up in heaven.  I know I’ll see them again someday.  In the meantime, I’ll carry them both in my heart as I slowly walk away from those waves.  

Mom

Wednesday, November 2, 2022.  A light in the world went out last night.  Jeff’s mom died, and I’m heartbroken.  We all are.  She asked me to call her Mom when we got married twenty-two years ago, and she’s truly been a mom to me in every sense of the word.  Her death was unexpected.  She had a severe ulcerative colitis attack which then turned into sepsis.  She went into the hospital in the early hours of Friday morning and quickly deteriorated.  She had just called me the day before just to chat.  She hadn’t been feeling well but was doing better that day.  I had no idea it would be my last conversation with her, but I’m so glad I got to tell her I loved her.  She was the heart of the family.  People were everything to her.  When I met Jeff and brought my two kids into the family, she welcomed them as her own grandchildren.  She never made them feel like there was a “step” between them.  She was a gifted pianist and studied at Juilliard.  It was because of her that I found my love of classical music.  We also shared a love of books, jigsaw puzzles, and crafting.  She was always making things to give us.  She excelled at knitting, sewing, cross-stitching… We all have evidence of her love sprinkled throughout our homes.  She was a great cook and baker.  Her pies were legendary; the highlight of Thanksgiving dinner.  And she was always, always there for you offering her support and her friendship.  We’d talk for hours on end when she visited and drink endless cups of tea.  She made the effort to connect so you always knew how much she cared.  I just can’t imagine the world without her in it.  She will be sorely missed.  I love you, Mom.  Rest in peace.  

Galatians 6:9

Sunday, October 30, 2022.  “Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up.”  I saw this verse in one of my devotionals yesterday, and it struck me in a different way than usual.  Always before, I’ve thought of it as far as my actions in the bigger world - being kind to others, standing up for what’s right - that type of thing.  But yesterday I related to it on a more personal level.  I’ve been struggling with weight gain since I began dealing with M.E.  You can’t exercise with this illness or you will make it much worse.  I’ve always tried to eat healthy, but when you are forced to be still so much, the pounds just start gradually creeping up.  My weight had leveled off and I had made my peace with it thinking there’s not much I could do.  But then it started to go up again, and I worried that it wouldn’t stop. I’ve talked about acceptance with consideration to our physical looks, but I also believe you have to do your best for your health.  And I didn’t think it was healthy for my weight gain to go unchecked.  So this time, I decided to focus on my weight loss as a critical need for my physical health.  I’ve read that inflammation can make any chronic illness worse, so I decided to shoot for an anti-inflammatory diet.  When I researched it, I came across a short video clip by Dr. Andrew Weil talking about which foods are the most anti-inflammatory.  In it, he said one short sentence that stuck with me.  “If you want to lose weight, cut out flour and sugar”.  So simple and straightforward.  I knew I could do that.  And guess what?  It worked.  I’ve watched my calories before, but with the sugar and flour, even watching calories wasn’t cutting it for me.  As soon as I took those out, I started to lose weight and feel a little better overall.  Seeing progress always strengthens my resolve, but with the holidays looming, I started thinking about all of the foods that come with them.  Pies at Thanksgiving and cookies at Christmas; I worried that I couldn’t stick with my plan.  Then I saw that verse, and it spoke to me.  It was like God Himself reaching out and saying, “You can do this.”  I will reap the harvest of my efforts if I don’t let myself grow weary and give up.  I am weary in so many ways these days, but I can be strong in this with God’s help.  Yes.  Thank you, Jesus.  

Halloween Memories

Saturday, October 29, 2022.  I loved Halloween when I was a kid, but it was a little different back then.  We carved pumpkins using basic shapes like triangles and circles, and tried to make jagged-looking teeth without cutting one of them off.  (Inevitably, I had to reattach one with a toothpick.) Nowadays, so many of them look like artwork.  Not that that’s a bad thing.  I’m amazed at what people can do, and I love looking at the intricate designs.  But it is different.  My mom used to roast the pumpkins seeds, and I loved them!  I tried doing it for my kids one year, and I never did it again.  It’s hard work separating the seeds from that pumpkin gunk!  I had no idea the effort Mom put in till I tried it myself.  Then there’s the costumes.  If you bought one in a store, it came with a hard plastic mask with an elastic band that went around the back of your head.  There were three problems with those plastic masks: one, that elastic band cut into your ears; two, the condensation created from trying to breathe in them made them all wet inside; and three, no peripheral vision.  Trying to see out of those little eyeholes was definitely a challenge.  The other option was to make one up with stuff around the house.  My favorite costume was when I put a sheet over my head and cut two holes for the eyes.  I have no idea why I was so excited about it - maybe because of Charlie Brown’s Halloween?  I don’t know, but it was simple and fun, and I loved it.  Again, I love seeing the elaborate costumes people wear now, but it definitely takes more effort.  We used to use pillow cases to collect our candy, and we’d get so much that we had to make drop-offs two or three times because they got too heavy to carry.  It was a blast!  I know some people talk about Halloween as “the devil’s holiday”, and that’s sad.  We gave no thought to anything other than having fun, and I think that’s what most people are doing today.  Whether you do Halloween simple or elaborate, if your kids are excited and having fun, then God is there.  I know He was there as I was racing around the neighborhood having the time of my life.   

The Church Bell

Friday, October 28, 2022.  My dad grew up in the small village of Karitsa, way up in the mountains in Greece.  It was still a true village when we visited in the sixties and seventies - no running water in the house, outhouse, and minimal electricity, if I remember right.  I seem to recall a lightbulb hanging from the ceiling, but I’m not sure.  Definitely no heating or air conditioning.  This was also before computers, smartphones, etc.  So kids found lots of creative ways to amuse themselves.  The centerpiece of the village was a big church with a large courtyard and a bell tower.  The bell tower was outside of the church proper with a thick, heavy rope hanging down to be rung for services.  One day, my sister and I were playing with the village kids in the courtyard when someone decided we should try to ring the bell.  Unbeknownst to us, this was strictly forbidden.  So all of us kids gathered around, taking turns hanging from the rope and trying to make the bell ring.  We spoke Greek pretty fluently at the time, but I remember not really understanding all that was being said about our little activity… until kids started taking off.  Rita and I were looking around watching children run for the hills and wondering what the problem was when we heard a shout.  I looked behind me and saw a man in a black robe looking really angry and heading our way.  That’s all it took!  I yelled “Run!” and took off hoping she was behind me but too afraid to check.  At that point, it was every man for himself.  I remember ducking behind something - a large rock maybe - and watching that scary man stomping for the bell tower and spewing a torrent of Greek.  I don’t remember what happened after that.  I know we didn’t get caught and eaten alive because we’re both still here.    I thought God would punish us somehow because it seemed we had done a terrible thing at the time based on that man’s reaction.  But no, God just gave me another great adventure - and taught me not to trust those crazy kids anymore!

Rest

Thursday, October 27, 2022.  Why do we find it so hard to rest these days?  God built the Sabbath right into the week so that we would rest, and yet we still resist it. It’s one of the things I struggled with the most when this illness claimed me.  CFS/ME forces you to rest or suffer horrible consequences.  I’m better than I used to be because now I stop before I’m literally paralyzed with fatigue.  Now I just feel like I’m getting the flu complete with body aches, sore throat, the whole shebang.  (Side thought - where the heck did the word “shebang” come from?)  But at first, when I wasn’t being productive, I was struggling with feeling worthless.  That’s what our society has done to us.  You’re supposed to go, go, go, 24/7 to prove your worth.  Hobbies?  Forget hobbies.  Unless you turn it into a business, what’s the point of a hobby?  Take a whole day off?  Well, have you earned it?  Playing with your child?  Are you teaching them something at the same time?  For goodness sakes, can we just stop?  Can we breathe a minute without it having to mean something, be something other than just a breath?  I have to say that out of everything this illness has taken from me, the one thing I’ve gotten back is the ability to rest without guilt.  At least, most of the time.  When I start to equate my worth with my lack of productiveness, I remind myself that I’m a child of God.  That my value with Him doesn’t have anything to do with how much I can pack into a day.  I just have to love Him, and do my best to be a good person.  And guess what? After that, I can rest.  

My Mom

Thursday, October 27, 2022.  Today would have been my mom’s 90th birthday.  She was an amazing woman.  She grew up in a very different world from today.  She was the second to youngest of seventeen children, and she told us she used to stand on a stool to reach the stove so she could cook breakfast for everyone.  Crazy, right?  But with a family that large, everyone had to pitch in.  People learned true life skills back then.  She was an excellent seamstress.  She used to make fancy dresses for herself, and me and my sister.   She was drop-dead gorgeous but also strong as all get-out and not afraid of hard work.  She tended the garden; she made repairs around the house; she helped with the cows and chickens when we moved to the country.  She and my dad cleared an entire hillside of trees by hand.  She was incredibly smart, too.  She taught herself Greek when she met my dad.  And then when I was in my late teens, she started having health issues.  She began a slow decline over the next couple of decades, and then was never the same.  It felt like I lost her long before she was actually gone.  I miss my mom, but I’m so thankful God blessed me with her, and I’m so grateful to have known the incredible person she was before the illness took her.  I’ll see you whole and beautiful again someday, Mom.  Happy Birthday.  

“Thy Will Be Done”

Tuesday, October 25, 2022.  What do you do when something is eating at you?  Whether it’s an incident in your past, something you’re dealing with in the present, or a future worry, we all have things that weigh on our minds.  Things that we just can’t seem to get out of our heads.  What works for me is this short prayer - “Thy will be done”, which is part of The Lord’s Prayer, of course.  The first time I remember using it to ease my mind was due to an incident many years ago with a neighbor that caused me a lot of worry.  It stands out for me because it was the first time that I clearly remember relying on God by repeating “Thy will be done” over and over.  It’s funny because I can’t for the life of me remember what the incident was, but I can still see myself fretting.  I can feel the tension I had that just would not let me go.  I had always had faith in God, but my relationship with Him had changed by that point, largely due to this blog.  Taking time each day to look for Him had brought me closer to Him.  I had stopped relying on myself and started turning to Him in everything.  So when this thing happened (whatever it was), I decided to pray the prayer that never fails - “Thy will be done”.  I prayed more specifically, too, but I needed something to fill my mind and drown out the stressful thoughts.  Something short and to the point, that I could play in my head on an endless loop.  It took a couple days, but it worked.  It’s like each time I said the prayer, it filled a negative spot in my head with a positive one; eventually coloring in my whole being with God’s peace and light.  Since then, I’ve used it whenever I need to silence the chattering in my brain.   “Thy will be done, Thy will be done”… It brings you closer and closer to Him, and further and further from your stress.  God’s Word and God’s will - nothing can stand against it.  

The Redbud Tree

Sunday, October 23, 2022.  My world is pretty small these days.  It mostly consists of what I see out of my windows.  We have a small sitting area that we call our “tea room” with two big windows that look out on the courtyard, and from there I watch the world.  The star of the courtyard is a Redbud tree.  When we were moving in, my first thought was to take the tree down because it seemed just slightly too big for the courtyard.  My sister and I were talking about it as we sat at the kitchen table while my husband and nephew were still bringing in some boxes.  Keep it?  Cut it down?  Then we saw the most interesting bird in the tree.  I had never seen that type of bird before even though it’s pretty common in this area.  I found out later it was an Eastern Towhee - black, orange, and white.  He was so close!  Just a few feet away because the tree is right by the window.   We had such fun watching him that I decided right then that the tree would stay.  Definitely the right decision, and I think it was God’s way of preparing for my current situation.  I’ve seen so many different kinds of birds in that tree.  I’ve watched squirrels scamper all over it.  I watch the seasons change in its leaves and flowers.  Just yesterday morning I was thinking of how we can always know what time of year it is just by looking at that tree.  That afternoon, Jeff said exactly the same thing as we sat together watching the late afternoon sunlight filter through its golden autumn leaves.  Once all the leaves fall and the branches are bare, Jeff hangs red and silver decorations on it for Christmas.  In spring, it puts on a glorious show with pink flowers and new leaves that emerge yellow; the pink and yellow together are just glorious.  Then the fullness of summer takes over with broad, deep green, heart-shaped leaves.  God knows our future.  He knew I would be spending the majority of my days sitting in this exact spot, and He gave me that Redbud tree so that I could still experience the beauty and wonder of His natural world.  Thank you, Jesus.  

Chicken Of The Sea

Saturday, October 22, 2022.  I mentioned eating caviar a few days ago, but that wasn’t the ickiest thing I’ve ever eaten - it was frog legs!  Where on earth my mom got frog legs, I’ll never know, but she fried them up and coaxed us into eating them.  She kept telling us they were “chicken of the sea”.  I was super skeptical, but it did look like a really small chicken drumstick, so I finally took a bite.  And guess what?  It was really good!  It really did taste like chicken. Haha!!  When I finally found out what it was, I almost died, and there is no way I will ever eat it again no matter how good it is.  Some people are open to that kind of thing - I’m not one of them.  But as I said, my mom was a great cook so she even made frog legs taste good to me.  God put so many wonderful foods in the world for us to eat, and at this point in my life, I can only tolerate a small portion of them.  Though “chicken of the sea” will never be included in that list, it still gives me and my sister a good laugh when we remember it, and that’s where I find God in this little story (but not in frog legs!).  

Aging

Friday, October 21, 2022.  They say aging isn’t for sissies, and boy, is that ever true.  When I was young, I thought I’d handle aging well once it was time to be old.  The problem is in your mind, you don’t feel any different.  Yes, you gain experience and wisdom, but you still feel like yourself; like the person you were decades ago.  So in your mind, it’s never “time to be old”.  Then one day, you notice some sagging, or some wrinkles, or grey hair, and at first, you think, “Okay, I can handle this”, because you think that’s all there is to it.  But it doesn’t stop, it keeps going until you look in the mirror and don’t recognize yourself.  I’ve come to realize that aging is learning to recognize yourself in that slowly declining physical state over and over.  You have to see past what’s in the mirror to what’s inside of you.  Here is where faith comes into play.  God sees us on the inside.  He’s seen us since before we were born into this world.  None of what the world sees on the outside matters to Him, it’s just the trappings we get caught up in during our brief stint here.  I’m not saying you should just totally let yourself go.  I think we should take care of the bodies God has given us to the best of our ability.  But that doesn’t mean being ageless.  I mean can you imagine being eighty and still looking like you did at twenty?  It’s silly but somehow still a struggle.  It’s definitely a test of faith to find yourself in a face you don’t recognize, but maybe that’s what we need as we age.  It truly is a privilege to get old when so many don’t.  Maybe the point is to strengthen our faith and accept what a blessing it is, wrinkles and all.

The Unknown

Thursday, October 20, 2022.  Fear is often based in the unknown.  I’ve been dealing with that a lot lately.  When the nodules in my lung were first found, I was afraid of cancer.  Now that I know for sure it’s not cancer, I’m afraid of just how bad this infection is.  The doctor said it could take several weeks for the cultures they took in the bronchoscopy to produce results.  So until then, there’s no way to know exactly how to treat it.  I’ve read that sometimes you need to take antibiotics for as long as a year, and that they can cause serious side effects.  More fear.  Maybe my infection isn’t that bad; there’s no way to know till I get those results.  So unknown = fear.  But there is One who knows exactly what’s going on with me, and He tells me to trust Him.  It’s really hard, and it’s takes almost constant re-centering; constant prayer (Pray without ceasing. 1 Thessalonians 5:17) But when I do that, I see that He has always been there for me; He has always gotten me through.  So no matter what type of infection this is or how difficult it may be to deal with, He’ll get me through it.  I’ll pray until He calms my fear.  Prayer = peace.  My future is unknown to me, but there is no “unknown” to God.  And since I know God, that’s good enough for me.  

Forgiveness

Wednesday, October 19, 2022.  Forgiveness is probably one of the most difficult things we humans struggle with.  As hard as it can be, I can forgive most things done to me, but do something to my children?  That’s a whole other story.  Even though they’re both grown adults, I still find it hard to forgive anyone who has hurt them at any point in their lives.  From their childhood through today, I can see with glaring intensity the times they were hurt and it still feels like a punch to the gut.  I want to go back and start ripping limbs; not very Christian, I know, and therein lies the struggle.  Jesus tells us to forgive.  And now I wonder if He does that more for us than for the person we’re forgiving.  He knows that anger can eat you up inside, and He loves us so much that He doesn’t want that for us.  He wants us to live peaceful, happy lives, and how can you do that if you’re holding onto negative feelings?  But He also knows we’re human, so when we go to that dark place in our hearts, He provides a light; a way back.  That’s what I reach for when I’m struggling to forgive, and ultimately, that light fills me till there’s no more room for the darkness.  I find peace again.  The more time goes on, the less a particular incident rears its ugly head, but whenever it does, He promises to be there for us over and over again.  No matter how much we need, He’s there to give it.  He forgives us because He loves us. He shines His light on the path out of the darkness, we just need to follow it.  

Greek School

Tuesday, October 18, 2022. When I was in elementary school, my parents made me attend Greek School for a few years.  I hated it.  It’s bad enough to have to go to school every day, but to go to more school afterwards?  What were they thinking?!  I didn’t know anyone, I never made any friends, and the teacher seemed very stern to me.  But guess what?  I learned the Greek alphabet and how to read and write the language, and I can still read it to this day.  It helped me so much in “regular” school though I didn’t realize it at the time.  All of that is well and good, but my very favorite memory of Greek School had nothing to do with learning Greek.  We lived close to the elementary school so I always walked home.  One day it was raining, and I was walking home with my super cool, see-through bubble umbrella.  (They went out of fashion for a while, and I have no idea why.  They were the best!) I was getting close to home when I saw my mom coming to pick me up in the car.  I guess I was running late.  I remember I was cold so it was great to get into the warm car, but even better than that was the food Mom had brought me to eat on the drive.  My mother was the best cook in the world.  She was born in the South but learned Greek cooking when she met my dad, and everyone said she cooked Greek food better than native Greeks.  One of our favorite things that she made was stuffed tomatoes, and on that cold rainy day, Mom had brought me still warm stuffed tomatoes wrapped in foil.  To this day, I think it’s the best thing I ever ate in my life.  It warmed me inside and out. Ever since, Greek School and those stuffed tomatoes have been linked in my mind.  And in my heart?  I see God there in my mom warming me as only a mother can.

Isaiah 41:10

Monday, October 17, 2022.  “So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God.  I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.”  I can’t tell you how many times I’ve leaned on this verse for comfort, especially in the past year.  I’ve had to have several CT scans in the past few months which for me is like torture because I’m claustrophobic.  Yes, they say it’s fairly open nowadays, except to me, it’s not. It’s so close; it’s right in your face, and you’re supposed to stay perfectly still which somehow makes it worse, and did I mention that it’s right in your face?  I tell myself I could scoot out if I really had to, but that doesn’t seem to help.  So I try to put my mind elsewhere by praying and repeating Bible passages over and over, mainly, “Do not fear, for I am with you.”  Knowing God is right there with me gets me through it.  I put all of my concentration onto Him and everything going on around me falls away.  I forget that I’m in a tube that makes me feel trapped.  I forget that they’re testing to see what crazy thing is going on in my body.  I forget that it’s right in my face.  I forget to be scared - “do not fear”, to feel weak - “I will strengthen you”, to feel alone in that cold, empty tube - “I will uphold you with my righteous right hand”.  Yes, this verse has everything when I need comfort.  Thank you, Jesus.

Little Gifts

Sunday, October 16, 2022.  I get sensory overload these days from the ME/CFS.  I have to look away from anything that’s fast-moving or flickering which means a lot of stuff on television, but even when I’m in the car I have to look ahead of me because looking out the side window can be too much.  I also have a problem with sounds so I can only take so much conversation before I need quiet to rest my head.  One of the main things I miss is music.  I can listen a little if it’s the only thing playing, but I can’t tolerate it for very long while I’m doing something else.  I used to listen while I cooked, cleaned, etc., but of course I can’t do much of that anymore anyway.  One pleasant sound I do get to enjoy these days is my chimes.  I have a capiz shell wind chime that used to hang outside.  It started falling apart, but we love it so much we didn’t want to get rid of it.  So I had Jeff bring it inside and hang it near the register in our ceiling.  Now whenever the air condition or heat comes on, I get to hear its lovely tinkling sound.  It’s just enough to make me happy, but it doesn’t last long enough to bother me.  Just little snippets of “music” throughout my day.  Little gifts from God.    

Caviar

Saturday, October 15, 2022.  We took a couple of trips to Greece when my sister and I were kids, and we were lucky enough to travel on one of those huge transatlantic ships.  It was quite the experience.  There was a steward who went around with what I think was a xylophone -type thing and played a tone when it was time for meals. I can’t remember a lot about the food, but I do remember caviar!  My mom probably told us it was caviar, but when we questioned her further, I can guarantee she didn’t tell us it was fish eggs.  I remember it being black so I’m sure it took some convincing to get us to taste it.  I can’t say I remember exactly what it tasted like, but I do remember the texture.  The little pops in my mouth were so much fun!  And I know I must have liked the taste because I wanted more.  It was years into my adulthood before I realized that I had eaten caviar, and I doubt I could get myself to try it now.  I mean, come on, it’s fish eggs! Haha!  But you know, if my mom was still here, she could probably coax me into it.  I miss her.  Such an incredible, vibrant woman she was in those days.  And what fortunate children we were.  Sailing the Atlantic, eating caviar… And having such loving parents which is worth all the caviar in the world.  Thank you, Jesus.  

The Good Doctor

Friday, October 14, 2022. One of the reasons Jeff and I moved to this area from the Outer Banks was for the great medical care all around the Triangle.  When I needed a primary care doctor, I asked a few neighbors for recommendations, but their doctors weren’t taking any more patients.  So I did what we always do nowadays, I Googled it.  I found a practice with UNC that sounded good and read reviews of some of their doctors.  Some of the doctors included a short bio and one in particular stood out, but she had no reviews.  Still I called the office to make an appointment only to be told that the first few doctors weren’t taking patients.  They started reading off a list of available doctors and I thought I recognized a name so I said I’d go with that one.  I wasn’t really sure who it was but I had to start somewhere.  Turns out I remembered the name because she was the one who wrote such a nice bio.  My first meeting with her was very memorable because I was in the beginning of my struggles with ME/CFS and for some reason thought I could manage walking up six flights to her office.  (I could have easily done that before this illness.)  I hate elevators because of my claustrophobia plus we were in the middle of Covid, but it was definitely a mistake to take the stairs.  Within a few minutes of sitting down, I couldn’t move.  I was alone in the office waiting for her and kept hoping it would be better by the time she got there, but it wasn’t.  All I could do was raise a finger indicating I needed a minute.  She was patient, kind, and listened to me intently when I could finally speak.  I saw her several times after that before I found out she was still a resident and was hoping to get a permanent position nearby.  I was hoping that, too, because I thought very highly of her by then.  (She got the position, by the way.)  She ran through every test possible for me and stayed in close communication which is such a rare thing these days.  And by communication, I mean she actually picks up the phone and calls me herself.  It was never more important to me than this last week when I was waiting for the results of the bronchoscopy.  I kept seeing results coming in but they were so full of medical jargon I couldn’t really understand them.  She called me yesterday afternoon because she was worried no one had contacted me about the results so far, and she was right.  Even though all the tests aren’t back, she explained that it’s looking very likely that what I have is some type of infection, and there is no indication of cancer so far.  She’s pretty confident from what she’s seen that there won’t be.  I was so happy to hear that, but I was incredibly touched that she took the time to call.  It’s the pulmonologist who will ultimately give me the final results since he’s the one who ordered the test so it wasn’t really her responsibility to call me, but she did it because she cares.  Finding a doctor who cares, who goes out of their way to communicate with you; it’s so hard to find and it’s worth everything.  You know where I found God yesterday? In a good doctor who’s worth her weight in gold.  

Crocheting Again

Wednesday, October 12, 2022.  I started my crochet design business about four years ago, and it was growing steadily up until the summer of 2021 when this illness hit me.  I managed to finish a couple of small pieces last fall but wasn’t able to get them ready to go until this past summer.  Then it took me another few months to even get one of those posted. It’s quite a process.  Crocheting is the fun part; the rest, not so much.  Writing up the pattern, taking photographs, getting it posted everywhere… it takes a lot of time and effort.  Plus, I’ve struggled with the energy to even keep my hands moving for the actual crochet work.  So I had pretty much decided that I was done.  Then a few days ago, my contact at Lion Brand Yarn got in touch asking if I had anything new.  That was all it took to spark the desire in me to create something.  I started looking at yarn and came up with an idea.  Next step was doing a yarn request.  I was doing okay until they needed to know a completion date.  It’s so hard to schedule anything these days because I never know how I’ll be from one day to the next.  I asked for December or January saying that I would do my best to finish by December.  I was wondering if they would need to scrap the whole thing, when Mark (my contact) got back to me saying “there’s no need to rush creativity, January is fine”. I was so relieved, and so touched. They’ve always been really great to work with so I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised, but they are running a business so I kind of was.  We live in a world where the dollar rules in so many ways.  It’s so encouraging to find the opposite.  Kindness, empathy, consideration… it’s all out there, even in the business world.  And I find God in that.  

Dad And The Donkey

Tuesday, October 11, 2022.  My dad has had an incredible life.  He was born in Greece, lived through the war, was kidnapped by Germans, came to America and became a citizen… so many stories to tell.  But the one I’m focusing on today is from a trip to Greece when I was maybe eleven years old.  We were staying in his home village of Karitsa way up in the mountains, and everyone decided they wanted to take a day trip to Monevasia - even farther into the mountains.  By day trip, they meant riding on horses and donkeys up a long winding trail and roasting a lamb on a spit when we got there.  I don’t know how long the trip was - maybe a few hours - but I was riding a donkey and my dad was holding its lead.  I remember it was a pretty narrow, rocky trail with a big drop to my left.  There were several people in front of us, and I watched as they approached a rock in the trail that had a cleft in it.  Each one of their horses stepped nimbly over it.  I somehow knew my donkey would step into it, but I kept hoping I was wrong.  I wasn’t.  He stepped right into that cleft and lost his balance, and just like that me and the donkey were sliding down the mountain.  The donkey was scrabbling for purchase and I was hanging on for dear life, but we never would have made it if not for my dad.  He drew on strength that could only have come from God and pulled both me and that clumsy animal back up onto the trail.  It scared the life out of me, and I refused to get back on any animal for the rest of the trip.  I walked hours, but I would have walked days if I had to.  It was an amazing place when we finally got there - a spring trickled freezing cold water straight out of the mountain, the trees at the very top bent sideways from the constant wind, and the dappled shade of the clearing where we had our feast in the forest was a beautiful natural shelter.  But all of that is a small aside to the incredible feat my dad performed that day.  He’s a humble man, and he never mentioned the incident unless I brought it up - probably even forgot about it.  But I never did.  It stands out in my memory with a bright light shining on it.  I know he saved my life.  And I know God was right there with him.  

Coffee With Jesus

Tuesday, October 11, 2022.  I’ve always been a tea drinker.  I liked the taste of coffee, I just always preferred tea.  I drink my first cup of tea in the morning while I catch up on email, go through my to-do list, scroll social media, etc.  But in an effort to get a little more energy, I started having a cup of coffee after my tea.  By this point, I’m done with screen time for a while and usually dealing with some sensory overload and a woozy head.  So I just rest my head on my chair and sip my coffee.  The house is quiet; I’m looking out into our courtyard watching the sky lighten and the birds and chipmunks start their day.  And in the peace of these moments, I started talking to Jesus.  It wasn’t a conscious thing at first, but now it is and I treasure it.  This illness has taken a lot from me, but it’s also given.  It’s given me time to get closer to my Savior, to increase my faith, to look for joy in the tiniest things, and for that I’m so grateful.  Coffee with Jesus - what a blessing.  

The Wheelchair

 Monday, October 10, 2022.  I never, never, never in a million years thought I would be a person in a wheelchair.  But when this disease sapped all of my energy, I didn’t have any choice if I still wanted to get out in the world.  And I can’t even roll myself around; I need Jeff to push me.  Most of the time, I can manage with just my walker.  Again, never thought I’d need a walker.  I used a cane for a while (another thing I never thought I’d need), but things kept getting worse.  My favorite thing to do is to take a walk outdoors and enjoy the fresh air, trees, sunshine, little birds and animals… just all of nature.  When I couldn’t get through a walk without collapsing when I got home, I started using a cane.  Then came the walker/rollator.  I was so self-conscious when I first started using it.  I didn’t want anyone to see me.  Now it’s just normal to me.  But the wheelchair isn’t.  I only use it when I’m really bad and need a dose of nature.  Even then, I feel embarrassed for some reason.  Isn’t that silly?  Part of it is that I’m physically able to walk, and I feel like if someone sees me get up from the chair and walk in the house, I’ll look like an imposter.  Again, really stupid way to feel, but there it is. The wheelchair sits just inside my front door and every time I look at it, it makes me cringe.  Until yesterday.  Yesterday, I was feeling so awful.  Along with the pain in my chest from the bronchoscopy, I was enduring all-over body aches from the ME/CFS which I know were a result of the whole hospital experience.  It was a beautiful day.  Sunshine, cool temperatures, and I wanted so badly to take a walk, but there was no way.  Suddenly, that wheelchair was my friend.  I was actually excited to use it, and what a blessing it was to be able to be outside on that glorious day.  And what a blessing to have my hero of a husband who is always willing to push me wherever I want to go.  God knows what we need more than we do, and I absolutely found Him in that wheelchair yesterday.  

Validation

Sunday, October 9, 2022.  I have what is now termed Myalgic Encephalomyelitis, usually shortened to ME/CFS.  It used to be known as Chronic Fatigue Syndrome, but they’ve learned a lot since then and that term seems to imply that the only symptom is being tired.  We all get tired, I know.  But this is a whole other level.  At my worst times, I literally can’t move.  Not even raise a hand.  And mine isn’t as bad as a lot of people.  I’m mostly housebound, but many are bed-bound.  I also get woozy/dizzy, brain fog, almost constant headaches, various pains throughout my body that come and go, almost constant sore throat, flu-like aches, and a myriad of other symptoms that are too long to go into.  I’m sharing this because it’s leading up to where I found God in the past two crazy days.  I went in for the bronchoscopy on Friday.  I had to be there at 12:30 p.m. and was told not to eat anything from midnight the night before, and nothing but clear liquids until 10:30 a.m.  I thought that wasn’t too bad, and I was right.  I managed it fine.  We got checked in to the hospital and sat down to wait for them to call me.  We ended up waiting four hours.  Jeff called to check on things a few times, and a very kind nurse named Wendy did her best to keep us updated.  But still, four more hours was a lot longer with no food or even water.  When they finally called me back to get prepped, it went fairly quickly, and the surgery went fine until I started waking up from the anesthesia.  I felt a little tired, but my mind was clear.  Then my hands started to shake uncontrollably.  I’m talking violently waving back and forth like I was having a seizure.  But I wasn’t.  It was surreal.  I kept thinking, “Just stop”, but I couldn’t.  Then they said my heart rate spiked though I couldn’t tell that myself.  The shaking would stop for a second then start again.  This went on for maybe five minutes or so, but it felt longer.  They brought in a neurologist to be sure I wasn’t having an actual seizure, and they confirmed I wasn’t.  It finally stopped, but they made the decision to keep me overnight in the hospital for observation.  I cried a little when they told me.  I just wanted so badly to go home.  Instead, I got to spend the night in a windowless room with just a curtain for a door listening to the man across the hall snore for all he was worth.  That along with the nurses checking in throughout the night (and taking blood at 3:30 in the morning for some reason) added up to almost no sleep at all for me.  On top of that, I was going on almost no food.  Luckily, I had brought a gluten free bar for my drive home so I ate that, but even though the nurses tried, the cafeteria didn’t get any food brought up to me till 11:00 p.m.  And that was a turkey sandwich that I had to take the bread off of.  Whatever, I was exhausted and thought I’d just go to sleep… until the snoring man.  The nurse brought me ear plugs, and I turned up the rain sounds on my phone, but it still couldn’t completely block it out.  I managed 10 - 15 minutes here and there.  The next morning I ordered breakfast through my phone which the menu they gave me said was an option.  I was supposed to get a confirmation but never did.  But I did it all correctly so I figured it was just taking a while.  Nope.  I called the cafeteria a few times and finally got through after hearing “we are currently experiencing higher than normal call volume” (aren’t they always?) for several minutes, and they said they never got my order but would send something up shortly.  I got my food 45 minutes after that, two and a half hours after my original order.  The whole experience was pretty miserable. 

The doctors in the surgery and the doctor that discharged me all said they had never seen the shaking thing happen before but that it was probably related to the anesthesia.  Then two neurologists came in right before the nurse was about to bring my discharge papers in.  One younger and one slightly older.  The older one was obviously the senior doctor but he also had some type of palsy that would cause him to shake uncontrollably from time to time.  They asked me a lot of questions, and the younger one did a brief exam.  I told them about the ME/CFS, and that I wondered if it hadn’t contributed.  I actually felt a little silly mentioning it and even just called it chronic fatigue because most doctors don’t know much about it.  Imagine my surprise when the older doctor said that he thought Myalgic Encephalomyelitis (yes, he actually used the correct term) combined with the anesthesia could cause that type of reaction.  He actually knew the disease and its symptoms.  I was blown away because no doctor I’ve ever met has any experience with it and very little knowledge of it.  I felt so validated.  So when I felt the urge to write about the past couple of days, I thought where on earth could I find God in what was a really awful experience from beginning to end.  And He put that doctor in the front of my mind.  The doctor who if anyone saw him not knowing he was a doctor would never think that he was one.  I saw him shaking, and then getting it under control and explaining his thoughts to me.  And I remembered again the validation I felt, and how it put a whole different spin on the entire experience. That’s where I found God.  Thank you, Jesus.