It’s All About Perspective

Last Christmas I was a pretty self-righteous twerp. Too much into myself and what I thought should happen and what I thought the Lord wanted to even recognize that I was being ridiculous.

Was I the only one in the wrong? No, but that is not the point. I can’t control what others do, I can only control what I do and how I react.

I was a self-righteous twerp who didn’t realize how incredibly blessed she was.

A lot can change in a year.

We just finished up Christmas lunch here at UAB and while there are still moments I have to remind myself it is Christmas there really is no getting away from it. As we sat there, supping with one another, I remembered the Thanksgiving meal we had at the same table just one month ago. This meal was much better because Jeremiah was with us.

That meal was filled with fear, uncertainty, and tears, lots of tears. 

This meal was filled with thanksgiving, joy, and laughs, lots of laughs.

Perspective is defined as the state of one’s ideas, the facts known to one.

When the state of someone’s ideas and the facts that are known to them change in such a dramatic way as through a crisis it is hard to imagine ever feeling the same about anything. Even still, I know that with distance from this crisis and when time separates us from it, it will be easy to forget.

In all things, we must be intentional to remember.

This Christmas wasn’t as much about presents as it was just being together. This Christmas wasn’t as much about traditions as it was just remembering…remembering what the Lord has done, where we were just two weeks ago…and dreaming…dreaming about what God will do in and through this time and where we will be next Christmas.

Our perspective has changed.

This morning we all piled into the elevator, weighed down with the few presents we brought to exchange and there was another family in the elevator with us. After brief exchanges of “Merry Christmas”, a member of the other family mentioned it wasn’t the merriest of Christmases. While I resonated with that sentiment I said outloud, more to myself than anyone else, “It could be worse.” We could be home for Christmas this year and not at the hospital but it could have been because Jeremiah died…yea, it could be worse.

Turned out the family was there because their mother died last night.

Our perspective has changed and through that perspective change I have learned so much.

Here are some lessons I have learned from my sweet brother during this time.

Life is too short to wait until your plate is fixed and food tastes better eaten straight out of the serving dish. Yes, that really happened.  

Something as simple as cereal can be a great thing…”What did you have for breakfast Jeremiah?” “Cereal and some milk. I know it doesn’t seem like much to you but it is to me!” It would seem like a lot to me too if I had been fed through a feeding tube in my nose for two weeks!

3 pound weights are not easy to maneuver but they are essential when you have a sweet little man waiting for you at home who is going to need you to pick him up.

Tennis shoes make good Christmas presents especially when they represent the fact that you WILL be able to run in them one day.

Sometimes it takes all the energy you have just to get cleaned up. More energy than you even have and so you have to give yourself permission to ask for help.

Love and pride in their simplest forms are enough to restore hope. Speech Therapist: “Who did you bring with you today, Jeremiah?’ Jeremiah: “My sisters. Kathryn and Rebecca. I brought my smart sisters with me today.” The result was a very encouraged sister.

If you only hear one thing from all of my ramblings it would be this…LOVE the people in your life.

Give them hugs and listen to their dreams. 

Don’t just tolerate them, celebrate them.

Love them by serving them. 

Do not take any moments you have with them for granted because you are not promised one more from the one you are having now.  

So Merry Christmas, everybody.

Jesus, thank you for coming. Thank you for continuing to come. Thank you for the miracle that is your life and the life that is in the hospital bed next to me. Thank you for being everything I need. Thank you for going before us, walking with us, and waiting for us at the end of this journey called life. Thank you for loving me with a scandalous outrageous love. Thank you for…

…well, thank you for the gift of You.

The Little Drummer Boy

I love Christmas carols. In fact, some of my favorite memories as a child include piling up into my uncle’s truck with all of my cousins singing Christmas carols at the top of our lungs.

Admittedly, I haven’t really listened to them a lot this Christmas season.

However, there is one that has me thinking on it more and more and ironically enough it is one of my least favorites. I mean really, how many times do you need to sing, “Pa rum pum pum pum”?

Obviously in the carol, The Little Drummer Boy you need to sing it every other phrase.

Sadly, the excessive pa rum pum pum’s kept me from really understanding the story behind the song until recently. As long as it may have taken I don’t think I’ll forget it’s lesson any time soon.

Come they told me,

A new-born King to see,

Our finest gifts we bring,

To lay before the King,

So to honor Him,

When we come.

Little Baby,

I am a poor boy too,

I have no gift to bring,

That’s fit to give the King,

Shall I play for you,

On my drum?

Mary nodded,

The ox and lamb kept time,

I played my drum for Him,

I played my best for Him,

Then He smiled at me,

Me and my drum.

While there are some obvious sound effects missing, I wanted to strip them away so as not to miss the story.

A little boy hears of the Savior’s birth and is encouraged to come see Him. Because He is the King, it would be inappropriate to see Him without bringing a fine gift…but this little boy is poor.

It is easy enough to relate to the boy on a surface level. I come to Jesus everyday poor and needy, able to give Him nothing that is worthy of who He is and all He has done.

Imagine actually being able to see Him and having to tell Him that. Adds another level of ache to it, doesn’t it?

But then the little boy remembers…he could play for him. While not as expensive as gold, frankincense, or myrrh, he did have his talent to offer the baby King.

And so he played. He played better than he had ever played.

And the King smiled.

I’ve been doing a lot of reading lately and one of my favorite new authors is Charles Martin. He has this unique way of making his readers feel smarter than we really are. He doesn’t explain everything to us and he really makes us work for some of the smaller symbolisms he uses. There is no formula to a Charles Martin book.

I love it!

In his novel The Dead Don’t Dance, Martin’s protagonist had just gotten home from a concert with his wife and he was marveling and wondering, imagining and dreaming of how he would feel to be the one on stage with the talent to illicit the kind of praise they had witnessed at the concert. The way Martin parallels this with the story of the little drummer boy is simply beautiful and instead of trying to recreate it in my own words I’m going to let his creative genius speak for itself.

“When I see those people on stage, sometimes I think about the little drummer boy. Standing there, offering his gift. All he had. Right there at the foot of the King. I wonder what that moment was like. Was it quiet all except for the sound of a drum? Were the animals shuffling about? Chewing hay? Where was Joseph? Was Jesus sleeping, up ‘til He smiled? And the smile. What did he feel? I…I wish I could wring out my soul, like the drummer boy, and then stop midwring and know, in that minute, that that – whatever that was – was the perfect expression of a gift.”

I pointed out the window toward the amphitheatre. “Those people, when they stand before the world, just before the sound fades, they know that they’re doing the very thing they were created to do. Their faces show it. Gift affirmed. They know life. That’s it. That moment, when the fans come alive and the King smiles, is living. Sometimes, I just wonder what it’d be like to play my drum for the King. Did the drummer boy stand like Pavarotti, hang the notes off the balcony, stop midbeat and listen to himself? Did he notice the moment, or did it pass by unmarked?”

“Did he notice the moment, or did it pass by unmarked?” Did he notice the moment he played for the King of Kings or did he just pass it off as another performance?

Do we notice the moments when we operate in our talents and gifts for the advancement of the King’s Kingdom or do we just pass it off as another time we have served?

I don’t know about you but I never want to pass by those moments unmarked again.

This past Sunday was one of those moments for me.

I was helping to lead worship at MyChurch Columbus when in the middle of one of the songs we lost power. No microphones, no production lights, no instruments, besides the acoustic guitar and drums. Just voices.

It was a little nerve wracking for about five seconds and then I was back in the moment. Then I remembered that the next song up was the one I was leading…

With an acoustic guitar and me singing louder than I knew I was capable of we led MyChurch in singing Hosanna…

It was awesome. Voices, just voices singing about how God saves and will save, that day the King of Glory comes on the clouds with fire.

The cool part is that I wasn’t the only one who didn’t let that moment go by unmarked. No one saw what happened as a technical difficulty but a divine moment where we had the opportunity to strip all of the fluff away, to wring ourselves out and offer the purest expression of a gift.

It was our, “Happy Birthday, Lord.”

I wring myself out in other ways as well.

This blog for instance. I have wrung myself out on this thing.

There have been times when I have stopped mid-wring and have known that this, whatever this is, is my perfect expression of my gift. Then there have been other times when I haven’t been so sure. Regardless, I have wrung out my soul within these pages and oh, how I pray, that as I am spent, it will elicit a smile from His terrifyingly perfect face. That God will look at His daughter and say that this is the perfect expression of His gift in me.

Am I hoping that you have enjoy taking this journey with me? Absolutely.

But if, at the end of this crazy journey, my King isn’t pleased with me because of it, then it is all for nothing. Because while others, Mary, Joseph, possibly the Inn Keeper, and the animals benefited from the Little Drummer Boy’s song, he wasn’t there for any of them.

He was there for Jesus. His song was for Jesus. His life, in that moment in time, was only for Jesus.

Can others benefit from whatever talent I have? Can someone relate to my story and allow God to change their heart?

I sincerely hope so but through this journey my heart has been changed.

I do not exist for that hope any longer. I do not write for that hope any longer.

I am here for Jesus. My song is for Jesus. My life, in this moment and the moments that make up my eternity are only for Jesus.

Loving While I Wait

Love can do some crazy things to you at times…and when you really get right down to it, I don’t know the half of it.

It shocks people when I tell them I’ve only really ever had one relationship in my almost 29 years. Shocks them even further when they find out how short the relationship actually was.

It used to bother me…now I just feel incredibly protected. More so than I deserve, that is for sure.

All this aside, I have loved. I still love. Loving while I wait is probably one of the most maddening things I have ever done and yet that is where I am.

If he were less of a man it may not be worth it to wait, to not rush my way in, but it is nearly impossible for my finite mind to wrap itself around the idea that there is more of a man out there for me. I can wait, I have to wait for such a man.

But how do I do this and continue to affirm his ability to win me, when he won me long ago?

That is what I am battling with this week.

It shouldn’t come as a shock to those who know me when I say that I am a strong, emotionally independent woman. A leader by nature. I have been told that these characteristics can be intimidating to men. That’s okay. I’m not looking to attract men, plural…just one and that man won’t find me intimidating enough to keep him away from me.

Strong as I may be, there are few things I look forward to in life more than allowing my man to lead me.

Most of my girlfriends are married and one of my favorite things to watch is my friends love, honor, and protect their husbands while they allow them to lead them. These women are all strong in their own right and yet I find them to be all the more stronger as they submit to their men; their men who love the Lord and who are worthy to be followed.

That is the kicker for me…he has to be worthy of being followed in order for me to do so. And he is.

I’m glad I’m strong. I’m thankful I have had this time of singleness with the Lord so I can walk into a Christmas party filled with married couples and not falter in the least about who I am. I know Whose I am and that is all I need to know in order to hold my head up high…

…but being able to just incline your head slightly and be met halfway by a man who is so aware of your presence that he anticipates your need. Well, there are no words to really communicate what that is like.

Throughout the last eight years of being a single adult woman many people have asked me if I think I will ever get married, if I want to get married, if I’m ever scared I won’t get married.

The answer to all of those questions has at one point in time been “yes”.

Yes, I think I will get married. Yes, I want to get married. Yes, there have been times in the past where I was scared I wouldn’t get married. Those fears ceased, for the most part, the Summer of 2007. That summer the Lord deposited two very clear, very distinct Kingdom dreams in my heart…neither of which I can see through without my husband. While there have been days of weakness and well, who am I kidding, weeks of weakness, for the most part I have walked through the last two and a half years with a quiet confidence.

I’m sorry to say that while I was quietly confident, I was also building a wall around my heart. That wall started coming down in September.

I had lunch with a new friend today. A friend who is newly married and expecting their first child. A friend who gets, really gets what this season is like for me; loving while I wait.

She said something today that made it past my brain and settled in my heart.

“Kathryn, you have to bless yourself through this and not rob yourself.”

My first thought was, “How do I do that?”

Five hours later I still have no idea but I have a sneaking suspicion it has something to do with not guarding my heart from him, because my heart is safe with him no matter the outcome, but guarding my heart from the bitterness that pounds on my door everyday, waiting for me to open it just a fraction of an inch so it can sink its claws into the vulnerable places of my heart. The bitterness that comes with having to wait a long time for something you long for more than the next breath. I have to guard my heart from the bitterness that comes after a promise is given to steal, kill, and destroy the hope of the promise.

There is a song that has pretty much been my mantra through the craziness that has been the last several months. Actually, it’s been my mantra for a lot longer than that…this is why I love music the way I do because really, there is no other way to communicate where I am right now.

I could write a million songs about the way you say my name
I could live a lifetime with you and then do it all again
and like I can’t force the sun to rise or hasten summer’s start,
neither should I rush my way into your heart

I’ll be waiting for you baby
I’ll be holding back the darkest night
Love is waiting til we’re ready, til it’s right
Love is waiting

(excerpt from Brooke Fraser’s, Love is Waiting)

Yep, love can do some crazy things to you at times, like get you to write about your Love in the presence of strangers…and when you really get right down to it, I don’t know the half of it.

Processing…

Sometimes life sucks.

I can hear my moma’s voice right now… “How can such an ugly word come out of such a beautiful mouth?”

Well, that is the point really because sometimes life is so bad that, “life stinks” just doesn’t cut it.

Sometimes life sucks.

Like when you watch your baby brother throw up the little bit of phlegm that is in his stomach, all the while a feeding tube is in his nose.

Like when you watch your sister-in-law divide time between her 13 month old and her husband, while she wonders if she is making the right decision no matter where she is.

Like when you hear over and over how people are being affected by the faith of your family, all the while you are so angry with the Lord for allowing this to continue when all it would take is one single word from His mouth and Jeremiah would be completely restored.

Yea, sometimes life sucks.

It doesn’t help much that everywhere I look there are Christmas trees and pretty sparkly things. Presents seem as rampant as the happy families creating memories all around me. I don’t expect people’s lives to stop. I don’t expect Christmas to just not happen this year because we will be in the hospital, it just makes this all the more difficult.

And then I wonder…I’ve been wondering a lot lately.

Even in the midst of my anger I know that God has not forgotten us. Even in the midst of my anger I know that God can handle it and is not wounded or scared by it. He is big enough to handle the anger of little ‘ole me. Even in the midst of my anger I know God to be who He has always been to me; who He says He is.

He could say one word and Jeremiah would stand up from that hospital bed and run home to us in time for Christmas. I believe that with every fiber of my being.

Because He hasn’t done that He must intend this time for something else, which leads me to the question of what He is trying to teach me.

I imagine it wasn’t the best day of Mary’s life when she found out she was going to be impregnated by the Holy Spirit of God. A teenage girl who was engaged to be married; a virgin. How on earth would anyone believe her? Picturing yourself being stoned to death would be pretty frightening and even though she believed God to be who He said he was, I can’t imagine that she wouldn’t have thought about that possibility at least once. How many times did she cry herself to sleep?

On the other hand, look what she got to be a part of! It’s incredible, really.

God is a God of process.

Can you picture Joseph’s face when he found out Mary was pregnant? It pains me to even go there. That moment when he thinks he has been betrayed by the woman he was busy building a life for. What despair. What anger. I’m sure he shared my earlier sentiment of life not always being wonderful. He was going to have to quietly end things with her. Yes, maybe if it ended quietly the religious leaders wouldn’t order her to be stoned. Even hurt and angry he wanted to protect her. Then he learned the truth.

As outrageous as it sounded he chose to believe that God was who He said He was and look what he got to be a part of. He was the earthly father of the Son of God! It’s incredible.

God is a God of process.

There He was, Jesus, the Son of God, Savior of the world, on the cross. How did this happen? His earthly ministry had reached its pinnacle just a week before. The people loved Him and those same, fickle people demanded he be killed within seven days of his arrival to Jerusalem. “Sometimes life sucks” would have been the understatement of the millennium in the shadow of the cross.

Then he rose from the dead. Look at what He did for all of mankind. Look at Who He is and where He is; where He will be for all of eternity. At the right hand of God, being worshiped for His holiness…it is beyond incredible.

God is a God of process.

Without the fear of Mary and the despair and anger of Joseph we wouldn’t have the cross of Christ and without the cross of Christ we wouldn’t have the opportunity of eternity with God the Father.

If I’m being completely honest I would tell you that I really wish God was using another process to teach me what He wants to at this point of my life. A process that didn’t include my brother hooked up to machines that are cleaning his blood out of  his own antibodies that just one day decided to attack his brain. A process that didn’t include my family being separated from one another this holiday season. A process that didn’t include wringing me out in all ways possible where I am left to fight the enemy of my soul from stealing anything else that the Lord has deposited in me during this season.

But He is God and I am not.

I wouldn’t have chosen His process of bringing Salvation to the world either and then where would we be…

So what will be the end of this process for us?

I have no idea, but this is what I am believing, even through my anger, for…

Jeremiah will be restored to full health.

Our family will see increased closeness and a bond nothing can touch.

Untold numbers of people will come to a saving knowledge of Jesus in and through the life and healing of my brother.

A marriage that will be a light and a testimony of God’s grace and faithfulness for my brother and sister-in-law. He will honor and uphold her for her devotion and commitment to her husband!

A grandpa/father/son relationship that will speak of the Father’s love for His Son and the Son’s adoration for His Father in the life of my daddy, Jeremiah, and little Gabe.

Christmases upon Christmases filled with laughter, Christmas caroling with the little ones, wonder, joy, and awe of what God has done in us and through us.

A friendship and brotherhood that speaks of loyalty and protection for my brother and my husband, who hasn’t yet arrived.

A passion for my sister to serve her patients and their families with an empathy and compassion she wouldn’t have had without this.

That first meal around my moma’s kitchen table that we all sit down to together…that moment for her, when all her children are under the same roof…she loves those moments.

But until then, while the process is in process, I will trust.

Even through the anger, I will trust.

I will believe He is who He says He is and I will believe that I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.

Even walk through this process well.