When Going Gluten Free isn’t Enough; Or, The Joys and Thrills of Pregnancy

“‘Ron, why don’t some people like breakfast food?’

‘Because people are idiots, Leslie.’” 

-Parks and Rec

People GET gluten free these days. At least here in the Pacific Northwest. And it’s great! It’s taken years and years, but finally the heads of loved ones and restaurants don’t spin in confusion and a deep personal sadness when you have to decline Great Aunt Phyllis’ famous chocolate cake or ask for a bun-less hamburger. Whew. GLUTEN FREE PEOPLE ARE FINALLY BEGINNING TO BE ACCEPTED, EVEN IF WE ARE NOT UNDERSTOOD. I call that a win. 

I have dabbled in gluten free living over the past 6 years, from straight-up elimination dieting to choosing the steadily-more-palatable-but-still-not-exactly-nutritious-processed gluten free items because I know I SHOULD. Last summer, my acupuncturist and a horrible gut and body ache after part of a breakfast burrito convinced me to give gluten a MISS until further notice. I don’t have celiac, but I do feel much better about life in general when I don’t eat gluten, leading me to strongly suspect that I have a non-celiac gluten sensitivity. I’m sure it’s snuck in here and there, but for the most part I’ve been pretty good at avoiding it. I did sneak a couple bites of B’s crisp bean burrito from Taco Time because those things are LIFE and I am pregnant and achy everywhere ANYWAY. 

Speaking of PREGNANCY, I have had to give up other things than just gluten. And I’m not even talking about the typical alcohol, soft cheeses, processed lunch meats, etc. I mean, whatever. I am looking FORWARD SO MUCH to a cold deli sandwich once the Gummy Bear arrives. Like, I can’t even say. But I’m talking about things that no pregnant woman should even have to think about giving up. LIKE…SUGAR. 

I love SUGAR. 

IN ALL FORMS. 

I love cake, pie, cookies, doughnuts, brownies, blondies, candy. I love baking cake, pie, cookies, doughnuts, brownies, blondies. Haven’t really delved into candy, because that stuff is FINICKY. Also I need a candy thermometer. I also love all the sugar in condiments (you know ketchup is MOSTLY sugary tomato paste, right?) and on top of cereals (oatmeal without brown sugar? Cheerios without white sugar?) and in granola bars and in fancy coffee drinks. Even more than gluten, sugar in SOME SWEET FORM OF GOODNESS is in everything. Of course, I’ve been using more “natural” sugars the past few years, like honey, maple syrup, and coconut sugar. Because did I mention elimination diets? And I read too much online? I have worked with dates for sweetness before, and can I just say, my IBS did NOT appreciate those particular efforts. 

Anyway, GUESS WHAT. Natural sugars? STILL SUGARS. Well, crap. 

All this to say, I KNOW I feel better with less sugar in my life. My skin clears up, my lingering nasal congestion gets easier, all other foods start to taste better. So when faced with a couple of non-urgent but annoying health conundrums during pregnancy, I knew it was TIME. Time to give up my favorite pastime. My favorite way to TREAT MY SELF. 

For those of you who worry about the Gummy Bear*, I haven’t given up ALL sugar—still eating fruits and carbs and even the granola bars I keep in my purse for emergencies. I have to keep from going completely insane during pregnancy, and she needs a wide range of foods. I have also discovered sugar-free, dairy-free ice cream (oh yes, still don’t do straight-up milk or ice cream) and Stevia-sweetened root beer for those times when I ABSOLUTELY NEED SOMETHING SWEET OR I WILL GO POSTAL. 

It’s now been about 5 weeks, and that first week was NOT COOL. But I am a survivor, my friends. It hasn’t stopped me from gazing longingly and lovingly at the bag of Reese’s Pieces a fellow mom-to-be was eating during one of our birthing classes, or at the gf chocolate cereal waiting patiently in my pantry. My doctor did say that chocolate was still ok to eat and so I got some very dark chocolate (even though I really just want milk chocolate, if I’m honest) with a low sugar content, and I don’t even eat the full serving size, but that has helped with my brain a little, for which we’re ALL VERY THANKFUL. 

So that’s how pregnancy is going. Although this doesn’t even begin to cover other glorious topics like acid reflux (IT’S A SERIOUS TOPIC, COMRADES), needing the bathroom at all times, shortness of breath, trying to remember if I took my prenatal, dropping and bumping into everything, and wondering if moving from my couch is even THAT necessary. Of course the most glorious thing of all is feeling the Gummy Bear kick and move, and this is me actually not even being sarcastic. Feeling her move and squirm makes all these other things so worth it, from the diet changes to the acid reflux to the lack of sleep to the extra aches and pains. Like I seriously forget how uncomfortable I am when she starts doing the Gifford Baby Rhumba and I smile like an idiot. Yesterday, we felt her head about to poke out of my belly like the creature in Alien and B and I both lost it. In the best way, of course. 

So while we dream about chocolate peanut butter pie and coconut mochas, pass the Stevia and the fish oil and the cucumber slices for me and the Gummy Bear. Although not all together-that would just be gross. 

*Goodness me-I just realized our nickname for our baby is essentially SUGAR. I told you sugar is everywhere. 

There is a baby in there, I promise. Also, that's the beautiful cradle my grandpa made!

The remnants of my sugar-free AND delicious breakfast. 

How many water containers does a pregnant woman need? DON'T ASK.

For the Waiting Ones-a Prayer

God, we are waiting. 

Waiting for so many things, waiting for your guidance and clarity. We don’t want to make a move without your presence going before us. We know that you are indeed with us always, as you promised, but we don’t want to make decisions on our own strength and in our own understanding. We acknowledge that waiting is often part of your plan for us, part of the way in which you are disciplining us and molding us in love. Even though we don’t know why we are waiting, we trust that you are with us in it. We know that you do not leave us alone, for that would be truly more than we could bear. 

Thank you for shielding us from things even unknown to us, for always working behind the scenes in ways we can’t begin to understand. Help us to remember your great power, your great sovereign command of the universe and of our own lives. We acknowledge you as the Great I Am, the First and the Last, the Alpha and the Omega. You stand in all power outside of time and space. You hold us all together, protecting us and caring for us in all things. Help us shed the lies that peace lies in certainty, in circumstances, in getting the things we want, in getting our life in some kind of order. You are our Peace. 

Breathe on us, heal our hearts. Give us the faith we need to keep on trusting you, to keep looking at you when everything else is in shadow. Remind us to make time for you, to read your Word, and to listen to what you have to say to us. Remind us that you always show up in our listening. Your word says that it is good for one to wait for the salvation of the Lord. We trust that you will yourself be our sustenance while we wait, that you will be our manna in the desert places of our lives. We give you these dry spaces, trusting that you will transform them and use them for your glory and our good. Give us true patience, to trust you even if and when things might not change. You yourself are our great Treasure, our great Portion. Enlarge our hearts and minds to receive you as our peace and our King. 

Amen. 

Beauty always grows in stark spots, the rusty and wild places. 

A New Thing

Let no one caught in sin remain

Inside the lie of inward shame

We fix our eyes upon the cross

And run to him who showed great love

And bled for us

Freely you bled, for us

Christ is risen from the dead

Trampling over death by death

Come awake, come awake!

Come and rise up from the grave!

Christ is risen from the dead

We are one with him again

Come awake, come awake!

Come and rise up from the grave!

-Matt Maher, Christ is Risen

“Remember not the former things, 

nor consider the things of old. 

Behold, I am doing a new thing; 

now it springs forth, do you not perceive it? 

I will make a way in the wilderness
and rivers in the desert. 

Isaiah 43:16-19

My darlings. 

You guys. I am OBSESSING over my balcony. It has become, for the first time in 5 and a half years, one of my favorite spots in our apartment. I now practically haunt the balcony, worrying over the one yellow leaf on one of the petunia plants, fussing like a mother hen over the dirt (is it too wet? Too dry? Should I add more fertilizer?). I am watching the progress of new blooms blossoming with great anticipatory delight. I am moving the wide planter of petunias and the cute little white flowers around to catch more sun during the day, like a human sundial. I am now sweeping up the floor on a regular basis. This is big, as it means I can go outside without shuddering in my flip-flops, like a nervous freshman in community bathrooms. I now try to get outside as soon as possible, both to enjoy the delightful morning sun hitting the balcony and to soak up some light after being enshrouded in the twilight of sleep. I water the flowers before I start my coffee, usually. So, yes. I am a woman obsessed. 

What brought on this transformation, you may well ask? This sudden, abnormal behavior of a Anti-Green Thumb who formally forgot about watering a houseplant till it’s 6 months later and it’s wilted beyond recognition? When the New Plant Glow wears off, and I turn to other more important distractions and activities? When I buy herbs in a kind of feverish, grim resolution that THIS will be the year I enjoy fresh mint mojitos, fresh basil in pasta, fresh cilantro in ALL THE THINGS? Only to watch helplessly as they shrivel and wither and generally give up their herby ghosts? 

Well, it started with the coming doom of a Very Hot Summer Ahead, and asking my beloved father to bring over the ol’ Shop-Vac and erase the effects of a long winter, with its dead and crackling leaves, its sheen of dirt and 30+plus years of who knows what? The DIFFERENCE, I tell you! I could patter out to the patio in bare feet and not cringe inwardly. Or outwardly, for that matter. I could putter about, planting flowers and moving terra cotta pots hither and yon. I could finally lay down the outdoor mats I bought without merely covering the evidence. I hung my silvery Words on Walls purchase above the chairs. And voilá, it felt like home! It felt new, like I’d never really seen it before. It finally felt like a place I wanted to be all the time. Sun-filled, flower-filled, Sarah-in-chair-filled. 

When you want to be some place all the time, it’s easy to care for it. To delight in the very work of maintenance and upkeep. To try to give it the best chance possible. To gently coax it into what it’s meant to be. 

And, of course, this is how God Himself sees us. 

He wants to be with us all the time. He cares for us, delights over us, croons over each new blossom, over each new effort or skill learned or hard thing conquered. He gives us everything we need to grow into whom He’s made us to be. He sees us as new delightful creatures every morning, He sees to us each first thing. Every time we pray, every time we seek His kingdom in our lives, every time we practice loving others before ourselves, He is filled with a kind of pride and joy. All because He rejoices in our very existence, our very being, our very humanity. Zephaniah 3:17 even says He dances over us with loud singing! 

Thankfully He is not daunted by a long winter of the soul. He is not discouraged when we dry out or start to wither or collect a little dust. Even though I am a city dweller through and through, it is easy to see why Jesus refers to God the Father as the Gardener and Himself as the vine in John 15. The Vinedresser takes away the branches that don’t bear fruit and prunes the ones that do. When we remain in the vine, remain in the branch of living with Jesus, we will bear much fruit, for God Himself sees to it, that we are pruned and trimmed and weeded and watered. He is glorified when we bear fruit, when we bloom, meaning that we show the world more of who He is. And that is exactly what the world needs. 

The world needs His beauty. His truth. His grace. His gentle pruning of the things that keep us from Him and from others. 

And somehow, through His mind-boggling plans, we get to be part of showing Him off to a world sick for beauty, sick for wholeness, sick for truth. 

But as Jesus points out, nothing can bloom like its supposed to with remaining in the vine, without taking deep root. You see, we can do nothing without Him. We can be nothing without Him. We are built to be forever with Him. Gloriously designed to walk with God Himself in the cool of the day, and the heat of the day, and everything in between. We do nothing without the Gardener caring over us. And this is one of the best parts of the Gospel, although at first we may balk at not being able to do everything by ourselves. Flowers fulfill their true purposes by just blooming. When we can throw ourselves on the caring mercy and love of our Father in faith, no matter how many times we have to keep doing it, we will know Him. We will be with Him, just as we are intended to be. It is, truly and mysteriously, all about Jesus, doing the work in us and through us. 

No matter how slowly it all seems to be taking, how long it seems to take to throw off the weight of winter, how invisible His works seem to be, we can take hope in the truth that He is attentive and loving. We can’t see what He’s doing in the darkness. We can’t even begin to know what He is doing in us, because we would be dumbfounded and tongue-tied and knock-kneed. Let’s look to the Vinedresser, because He is always doing a new thing, He will make a way where there is no way, He will create rivers in our deserts, and hope in our sorrows. No matter where we find ourselves, in wilderness, in storm, in trial, we will find ourselves at home and with Him. 

Just a little sun. PERFECTION. 

Hope springs eternal, and hopefully these will too!

I told you I moved around the planter all the TIME.

Home indeed. 

While We’re Waiting, Let’s Make Pancakes

I like to use 'I Can't Believe it's Not Butter' on my toast in the morning, because sometimes when I eat breakfast, I like to be incredulous. How was breakfast? Unbelievable. 

-Demetri Martin, comedian

When they got out on land, they saw a charcoal fire in place, with fish laid out on it, and bread. Jesus said to them, “Bring some of the fish that you have just caught.” So Simon Peter went aboard and hauled the net ashore, full of large fish, 153 of them. And although there were so many, the net was not torn. Jesus said to them, “Come and have breakfast.” Now none of the disciples dared ask him, “Who are you?” They knew it was the Lord.

John 21:9-12

The pure goodness of pancake joy. 

I’m going to be honest with you guys. It’s been a long season of waiting. Just standing around, well, lying around, to be even more honest. Waiting and longing and hoping and trying for physical wellness and wholeness. It feels like I’m waiting in the dark, and I am waiting for someone to flip the switch. In the middle of the long waiting, Ben and I try new things. We continue doing the good things, even though we can’t see results. We try to rest in the eye of our storms. We hang out with our family and friends. We listen to good music and watch good shows and make good food and go on good walks together. So we survive and strive and press forward even though our way is often veiled. 

Speaking of food (easily distracted over here), breakfast is definitely one of the good things. It's one of my all-time favorite times of the day and of LIFE. Breakfast food IS life, really. Think about it. All of the really good foods are contained under the Banner of Breakfast.

Bacon. Coffee. Pancakes. Waffles. TOAST. Hashbrowns. Omelettes. MIMOSAS. Doughnuts. Cereal. Cinnamon rolls. French toast. 

One evening not that long ago, I was searching the cupboards for some much-needed dinner inspiration, as we all do. I happened upon a half-used box of gluten-free pancake mix and thought YES. It’s been too long since I had pancakes in my life. I made a Smoothie Surprise (which is code for clean out the fridge and freezer and throw it in the blender and see what happens) and mixed up the batter. I married a genius, and he literally brought the bacon home to go with our breakfast feast. We slathered our pancakes with ricotta cheese and strawberry jam (highly recommend…we’ve been doing this on ALL the toast as of late) and peanut butter and maple syrup. Breakfast bliss, I tell you. 

So what does this have to do with waiting? Well, we still have to do stuff while we wait. Even while we wait and hope, we can still do things we love and make delicious food and be with those we love. We can still have pancakes. When we continue to move forward even in the dark, we will be strengthened and helped and encouraged. Maybe what we’re waiting for is hindering what we can do right now. In that case, we must find new ways and new things to love and do and make. I can’t run right now. But I can walk or ride my stationary bike. I can’t make cookies the way I used to. But I can figure out a new way to bake and create sweets. 

The disciples knew about waiting, too. About living and waiting and hoping and pressing forward. After the resurrection of Jesus, after he appeared to his disciples, Peter still needed to do something, to fill his time, or even to feel normal after all these mind-boggling events. And he went back to what he knew best—fishing. And of course, he and his friends didn’t catch anything, didn’t have anything to show for their efforts, as is so often the case with waiting. And what does Jesus do after this long night? He gives them not only a full catch of fish, but breakfast. Jesus cares about all our needs—He knows that not only do we need breakfast, we also need him to come and make all things right again. 

Jesus could have provided that full catch in the middle of the night, when Peter and his buddies were trying so hard. But by waiting, the disciples were filled with so much more than a hot meal, weren’t they? This whole experience confirmed who Jesus was—they didn’t need to ask who it was on the beach: “they knew it was the Lord.” And this is what we need in our lives, in all the mystery and the sorrow and the sudden joys—to know that it is the Lord who provides, who loves us enough to be with us. It is the Lord who makes our meals communion, who uses something as daily as our daily bread to reveal more of himself. While we wait, let’s look for him on the shore, trusting him to provide and sustain us in all things. 

Saying Yes

Long lay the world in sin and e'er pining

'Til He appeared and the soul felt its worth

A thrill of hope the weary world rejoices

For yonder breaks a new and glorious morn.

-O Holy Night

And Mary said, “Behold, I am the servant of the Lord, let it be to me according to your word.”

-Luke 1:38

In just three days, we will be celebrating the birth of Jesus. In the middle of the darkest days of the year, we remember His holy arrival into our world. His birth was the bright fulfillment of promises centuries-old, the redeeming of all our darkness. By choosing such a human entrance, we see how God used people to help usher in the Hope of the world. Of course, we can’t help but think about Mary, the mother of Jesus, chosen by God to carry the Messiah. 

I think we can all agree that Mary, the mother of Jesus, was a strong lady. She was a spiritual body-builder, a faith-infused heavyweight. And not only that, we have every reason to believe she was a teenager at this time. A teenager! I am thinking back to Sarah, age 13 or 14, and before the 90s bangs, tapered jeans, and plaid shirts cloud my vision, I see someone who is still figuring things out. Still figuring out what the world is about, what is important in life, how friendship works, discovering likes and dislikes, and figuring out boys. But mostly giggling about that last thing. Even though that was all RATHER a while ago, I’m guessing it’s pretty much the same for most teenagers today. So it’s pretty wild to not just picture or imagine what happened to Mary, but to know that it actually happened. Sure, it was a different world, a different culture back then, but she was still so young. What can we learn about this teenager with monumental vision, with iron strength?

What we can safely say about Mary is that she had faith. And lots of it. In Luke, we are told that she found favor with God. What a beautiful phrase that is! She found favor with God. In Hebrews 11:6, the author writes, “Without faith it is impossible to please Him.” God had given Mary ridiculous amounts of faith, and she must have cultivated it in her own heart, in her own life. With this bedrock faith, she was able to not just accept the angel’s crazy announcement that she, a virgin, would give birth through the Holy Spirit to the Savior of the world, but to welcome this news. She welcomed God’s miraculous interruption, God’s glorious upheaval in her life. 

Throughout scripture, people had all kinds of reactions to God’s stepping into their lives and asking to be let in. Noah said yes when God told him to build an ark. Moses said yes when God asked him to lead the Israelites out of Egypt. The Apostle Paul, when God blinded him on the way to Damascus, when he was going to round up Christians and have them put to death, obeyed Jesus’s instruction to enter the city and wait, blind with everything he knew turned upside down. 

Mary’s response to the angel is also incredibly inspiring to me. I am imagining what it would be like to be an engaged (which was pretty much halfway legally married back then) young woman, and then all of a sudden be mysteriously PREGNANT. Even though she knew what those around her would think and say about that scandalous news, she still welcomed God’s interruption. Mary’s life was set. She was engaged to a good man, to Joseph, and she would be a good wife, a good mother. But when the angel appeared instead, not just putting her life on hold, but changing it radically, forever, she was humble and said yes. 

Shortly after the angel’s life-altering visit, Mary went to visit her also-pregnant, much-older cousin, Elizabeth. This was a beautiful meeting, for when Elizabeth heard Mary, the Holy Spirit inspired her to bless Mary, the mother of her Messiah, and the Redeemer of the whole world. Mary responded by blessing the Lord Himself, for His goodness and mercy to her. For His choosing of her, for Hs finding favor with her. In her Psalm-like blessing, she tells of the Lord’s mighty blessings and justice and fulfilled promises. Oh, she’s still a teenager, obviously. She is still that same young woman, still figuring some things out. But she knew her Lord, she knew the true story of the Messiah’s coming, and she believed that that history was unfolding inside her very womb. 

That we all could have such faith! To welcome God’s good interjections in our lives. To embrace His life-changing presence in our stories. That when God asks us to do something, even something that will make other people shake their heads at us, even something that means our own plans change or fade completely, we would say a glorious yes. That we would identify with Mary, saying to whatever God has for us, “I am the Lord’s servant. Let it be to me as you have said.” 

Some days, in my own story, it feels like God is asking me to build an ark of impossible proportions. Some days, it seems like God has struck me blind and I am waiting in the dark for Him to come to me and heal me and send me out to do His work. Most days, it’s really hard to welcome the interruptions of what He’s allowed in my life. I long for more faith, for more hope in the God I have loved and followed since childhood. I long to be more like Mary, who looked clearly at her completely changed circumstances, and praised God for those very changes. I want to be able to magnify Him in the middle of exactly what makes life difficult. I want to praise Him for the good things He’s done, that I so often overlook and take for granted. Like Mary, I want to join in to God's good work in the world by saying yes in faith. And who knows how we can change the world just by saying yes?  

Wild Hopes and Bright Lights

No more let sins and sorrows grow

Nor thorns infest the ground

He comes to make

His blessings flow

-Joy to the World

For to us a child is born,

    to us a son is given;

and the government shall be upon his shoulder,

    and his name shall be called 

Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God,

    Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.

Of the increase of his government and of peace

    there will be no end,

on the throne of David and over his kingdom,

    to establish it and to uphold it

with justice and with righteousness

    from this time forth and forevermore.

 The zeal of the Lord of hosts will do this.

-Isaiah 9:6-7

There is always an invitation to fear. 

Fear is always with us, always immediately outside the door, always asking to be let in. Day in, day out. Year after year. Breath after breath. Reports of war and terror and unrest and a planet that is tearing itself apart fill our screens and minds. Difficult people and estranged relationships and things said or unsaid, things done and undone, weigh heavy on our hearts. We can also be filled with fear at our own lives, in the confusion and the mundane and the unfulfilled dreams—the sense that this isn't how it was meant to be. We face fear of the unknown in the future before us; we try to leave fear behind with our past choices and circumstances. Fear is always waiting for us. 

What is the remedy in a world so dark, in hearts so easily bent? Can there be one, or are we all so tied to fear? 

In this season of Advent, we wait. We wait in the dark, we hope in the dark. 

We join the ancient practice of preparing our hearts for the celebration of the birth of Jesus. Before a child can be born, there is the long wait. Before a son can be given to us, we had to prepare. Before the Wonderful Counselor, the Mighty God, the Everlasting Father, the Prince of Peace could come to us, there were years and generations of waiting. Before the government could be put on his shoulder, there was darkness and fear. Before the increase of His kingdom and peace, there was the fear of not knowing. There was only waiting. There was only hoping.  We wait with the world and we look forward to the joy of remembering His birth and what it means for all of us.

Fears are transformed in December; we stake our claim that hope and love and the gift of a Savior is stronger and larger than the darkness of our twisted world, of our twisted hearts. Anxieties are put to rest with the birth of a virgin’s son. Disappointments and discouragements are melted in the cry of the newborn King. Hopes are renewed, faith is reborn, and we find our joy in the light of his coming. 

So in a kind of wild hope, we set up our lighted Christmas trees. We hang up bright lights around our windows, defying the dark days and long nights. We decorate and bake and shop and plan and celebrate those we love. We reread the ancient Scriptures and remember the story of Jesus’ birth together. We hope and long and yearn for peace—for our friends and family, for our world, and in our own hearts. 

And yet, we do not just simply wait in a kind of wishful thinking. We can bring His kingdom to light no matter where we are. We who believe that the government is upon his shoulder, we hold his glory in our hearts and lives and relationships. We who believe Jesus is the Prince of Peace for all—we are called to continuously mirror his joy and reconciliation and love. We cling to this Prince of Peace instead of all our fears. In this way, as the old songs say, both the hopes and the fears of all the years are met in the light of His glory and grace. 

A Prayer

Shine Your light so all can see it 

Lifted up, 'cause the whole world needs it 

Love has come, what joy to hear it 

He has overcome, He has overcome

-SMS (Shine), the David Crowder Band

but these are written that so that you may believe 

that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God, 

and that by believing you may have life in his name. 

John 20:31

Jesus, in this time of fear and unrest in our world, brought on by hate and zeal and belief in all the wrong places and things, may you be King. May you guide our responses and our prayers and our actions and behaviors. Be our Teacher, our Comforter. Use us to bring peace, as you brought peace. Strengthen us to mourn with those who mourn. Blot out our fears and our worries and our anxieties.

The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it. John 1:5

Jesus, in your life and your death and your resurrection, you teach us how to live.

You are King of life, and of death. 

You are King of our weeping, and of our rejoicing. 

You are King of our fears, and of our peace. 

You are King of our doubts, and of our belief. 

You are King when we are locked in inactivity, and when we are out in the world in your name. 

We see your loving response to us when we are overcome, in the book of John, chapter 20. We see it in the story of Mary Magdalene, who was inconsolable after your crucifixion. She found your tomb empty, and raced to tell your disciples who came to see for themselves. 

After they examined your vacant grave, and left, scratching their heads, Mary did not have the strength to leave and move on. She leaned on your tomb, and wept. In her grief, you chose to bless her—the first to see you in your resurrection. The angels asked her, “Why are you weeping?” Mary’s only thought was to be with you, even if just your empty bodily shell, “They have taken away my Lord, and I do not know where they have laid him.” When you then appeared to her, her grief was still too much for her to see you fully, and you, in all your gentleness and grace, repeated the angels’ question. Deep in grief, she still did not recognize you, until you said her name. Until you said her name, “Mary.” Then, only then, did she see you, and her grief melted away like frost meeting the morning sun. Only when you know us and name us, can our grief and our weeping cease in the sheer surprising joy of your presence. Only when you meet us where we are can we be whole. Only when we embrace you as King of our grief, can we know rejoicing and fulness and abundant life. You do not erase our grief, but you sustain us in the midst of it with your very self. Mary’s grief was real, just as your death was real. The separation between yourself and us was real. Your resurrection brought you back to us, and you choose to bless us, just as you blessed Mary outside your empty tomb. Say to us our names, and capture our hearts, blowing out our grief like a candle. 

Before the disciples had seen you, before they were bolstered and strengthened by your renewed presence, they hid. They hid behind locked doors, no match for the strength of Rome or the powerful religious leaders, and certainly no match for you. When you appeared to them, they were full of fear, confusion, and doubt. Instead of reprimanding them for their lack of faith, their lack of decisive action, you blessed them, and you spoke peace to them. You showed them your pierced hands, your lacerated feet. You built them back up, and you confirmed their place with you, with the Father. You met each of them in their brokenness, in their terrified hearts, just as you meet each of us even today. Even though we too hide behind our struggles and doubts and fears, they are also no match for you. You bind up our wounds, our pains, because your love for us outweighs even death itself. As you sent the disciples out to spread your love and soothe the brokenhearted, so you send us now, today. 

In all our grief, our fears, our doubts, you come to us through the locked doors of our hearts and our minds, and you stand among us, and you both speak and breathe peace into our fearful places. You know our individual struggles, and you meet us in them. Meet us now, and use us to meet the world in all its fear and terror, and breathe your peace to us once again. 

8 Ways to Deal with Chronic Pain

Lying in bed would be an altogether perfect and supreme experience if only one had a colored pencil long enough to draw on the ceiling. 
-G.K. Chesterton

So we do not lose heart. Though our outer self is wasting away, our inner self is being renewed day by day. 
-The Apostle Paul, in 2 Corinthians 4:16

Chronic pain is a microscopic view of normal living—it forces you to focus and zoom in on what’s happening here, now. And it has the potential to actually be amazing in many ways. For the past few years, I have been muddling my way through my fibromyalgia and endometriosis, seeking ways to improve life while living in chronic pain. We can always be looking for that calm in the eye of our storms, looking for ways to be ok in spite of physical trouble. Here are a few things that have helped me tremendously, in no particular order. 

8) Be Prepared to Modify

One of the hardest things is to realize that your life and how you do things MIGHT/WILL  have to change. If you’re anything like me, this is hard to swallow every time you realize that SOMETHING has to give, whether big or small. A couple months ago, I finally gave in and realized that using my shower loofah felt like dragging tiny razors over my sensitive skin and changed back to using a soft and fluffy washcloth. Weird, but true. Weird, but helpful. On a related note, I now can’t just take a shower and GO GO GO. For the past year or so, I now have to work in a flat-on-back rest time after a shower. For whatever reason, different temperature, extra movement, etc, taking a simple shower requires extra thought and planning. It’s uncomfortable changing our lives because it feels like GIVING IN to our condition, but it’s ok because we are caring for ourselves in spite of it. 

7) Everyone Has an Opinion on Your Condition

This one is never going to go away. It just isn’t. People will tell what you that their aunt’s cousin’s brother’s mother’s friend had the EXACT SAME THING and that THIS IS WHAT WORKED FOR THEM and now they scale mountains and host large parties every weekend.  And here’s the only thing you can do without running away screaming—just say an honest thank you. Honestly. What we chronic pain sufferers need to remember is that people only offer advice because they care and want us to feel better. What most people don’t realize is that there is no magic bullet and we really have tried just about everything. Even though it’s hard to listen to yet another round of Have You Tried, I think it’s important to appreciate that people care enough to speak up. And when we’ve been on the receiving end, it’s easier to simply have compassion for others in hard situations, to simply say “I believe you.”

6) Figure Out What Really Helps You…and Do It

The name of the game on this one is Trial and Error. For my various conditions, gentle movement, following a mostly whole diet, and rest and pacing myself are huge. Also drinking more water than coffee. All things I’m naturally terrible at, but they are worth it. I also know that being alone is key to my mental and physical sanity, so working that in is essential. When it comes to exercise, may I recommend finding a super scary physical therapist who will intimidate you into action? Ha! This worked for me this summer, and now I’m actually moving more days of the week than not! Finding some kind of accountability is really good for those things that We Just Don’t Want To Do. I sure don’t do any of these things perfectly, but identifying what actually helps and what doesn’t is worth the time and effort. 

5) No One is Going to Understand You Perfectly

Ah. My old nemesis. How I wish this wasn’t so. Because chronic pain is usually invisible and weird and funky and not the same for everyone, most people will not get us and this hurts. On top of the physical pain we already feel! But even though this does not feel good, it’s normal. And it’s ok. When we seek constant validation from others, we lose every time. Chronic pain gives us an opportunity to believe ourselves for a change, and know that what we are experiencing is real and it’s really not our fault. When we believe this, we don’t need all the outside affirmation that we think we do. This means it’s a real treat when someone does believe us or sits and listens or sends a card or a message, instead of being our lifelines. This means you can allow people to flow in and out of your life, holding all relationships with open hands. Not all relationships will remain life-giving and it’s ok to let go, whether it’s doctors or friends. Also, no one will completely understand your Netflix queue…and that’s ok. Own that queue, man.

4) Work in Ways to Still Do What You Love…and Find New Things to Enjoy

I looooove baking AND strawberries. WIN. 

Living with constant chronic pain and fatigue is exhausting. And it takes up a lot of time. Like, a lot of time. It’s always shocking when I realize how long it’s been since I finished a book. I freaking love reading and books and grammar and punctuation and all those good things. ENGLISH MAJOR HELLO. This is one of those things that if I make a conscious effort to make time to do on those days when I’m not feeling so fibro-foggy in my brain, I will feel more like my old self again. Identify those things that make you feel like you, and sneak them in. And be open to new things that you can do while resting on the couch or the front porch. Sometimes I like to just paint terrible watercolors while watching tv. It’s just fun to drag the paintbrush around a little. Or plant some flowers in an easily accessible spot and limp outside to spend some time in the fresh air and poke at your plants. It’s good, people. It’s all good. 

3) Do Your Own Research…but Don’t Overdo It

There’s a lot of information out there, my friends. A lot of information. How do we research wisely? How do we sift through the information that we read without going absolutely bonkers? Doing our own research and being our own advocate is key, but we have to rein it in, too. Or you will go crazy feeling guilty and overwhelmed, and it can take over your life—this whole trying to feel better and get back to normal life business. So when you start to feel a bit crazy, take a step back and note all the things you DO that are awesome and helpful. Drinking more water this month? Yay! Exercised 2 or 3 times this week? YOU ROCK. Remembered your supplements? You inspiration, you. 

2) Pacing and Asking for Help is Key

I want to do it all. And I want to do it myself. I’m sure you can identify. I used to think that when I had a good day, I should strike while the iron is hot and DO EVERYTHING ALL AT ONCE. Clean the bathroom, vacuum the house, do the errands, and finish the laundry. Bam. But now I’m realizing that on good days, I still CAN work on my to-do list—now I just need to build in breaks. That whole pacing thing. I can still get stuff done, but with more sitting and more resting. Also, on bad days and good days, it’s always good to consider asking for help. I’ve found that I’m the only one judging myself for needing something, and that everyone is really and actually glad to help. It’s crazy. Also, when people offer help, don’t just say no. Consider how they really can help, and step back. 

1) It’s Ok to Have Bad Days

This is foundational for chronic pain/chronic anything sufferers. We can pace, plan, exercise gently, eat well, etc, and sometimes days are still just unexplainably hard. It’s ok to be disappointed when we wake up and just know it’s going to be a long painful day. For these days, I recommend having a plan of some kind to get you through it. For me, it’s showering at some point, having snacks at the ready, watching murder mysteries, moving for at least 5 minutes and stretching for at least 5 minutes, and asking my husband to take care of dinner. Which he usually does anyway, because he is a saint. It’s also ok to cry at various times throughout these days, or wait till someone comes over and you can cry on them. If you can laugh at funny show or with funny friends, that is maybe even better. Distract yourself in good ways from pain and ruminating too much on hard things. See if you can get up and do a load of laundry or start the dishwasher. Go outside for a few minutes and just breathe. You can do this. You can do Bad Days and survive. You can have this idiotic chronic condition and do your best with it. 

What I’ve realized after writing this list is that I will always need everything on it. Always. When I get better, God willing, I will still need to ask for help. I will still need to remember that no one will understand me ever the ways I want them to. I will still have hard days where I will just to need to hold on and think of ways to live well in spite of what life throws at me. People are always going to have opinions. And that’s just ok. This chronic pain has forced me, ungracious and slow to budge from my own opinions, to rethink things, and this is a good thing. 

When Tough Cookies Need Some Peace

Those who believe in God can never in a way be sure of him again. Once they have seen him in a stable, they can never be sure where he will appear or to what lengths he will go or to what ludicrous depths of self-humiliation he will descend in his wild pursuit of man…and this means that we are never safe, that there is no place where we can hide from God, no place where we are safe from his power to break in two and recreate the human heart because it just where he seems most helpless that he is most strong, and just where we least expect him that he comes most fully. 
—Frederick Buechner, The Hungering Dark

But now in Christ Jesus you who were once far off have been brought near by the blood of Christ. For he himself is our peace, who has made us both one and broken down in his flesh the dividing wall of hostility…
—The Apostle Paul, in his letter to the Ephesian church 

Coffee for all THE TIMES.

There are days, aren’t there? Days and seasons and years where it seems like nothing is going right, where things are not ok, where we are just off. Maybe we can’t put our finger on it; maybe we know exactly why we are not ok. Maybe something is off with a friend or a family member, maybe we are in the middle of saying goodbye to things or people or jobs we hold dear and to whom we want to hold fast, but we can’t. Maybe we still miss the ones to whom we said goodbye a long time ago, and our hearts can’t forget the ache, the hole left in absence. Maybe things are slipping out of our control—we see loved ones heading down hard paths or our health is falling through our fingers like heavy, wet sand. Maybe we find ourselves looking out of the window in the middle of our day, in the middle of the circumstances we find ourselves in and we wonder. We wonder how did I find myself here? What happened that this is the job, this is the situation, this is the place in which I find myself? 

Or maybe we are just tired. We are tired of the constant noise from our phones, our TVs, our news feeds, our neighbors both next door and far away. We are tired because we can’t remember the last time we had a really good rest. Maybe we just long for a break of some kind, of any kind. We long for a new season. New seasons of good things, of breaks in our heavy skies. We tell God that we are ready for something new; that we’ve truly learned whatever lesson He could be trying to teach us. We try to beg or plead or weasel our way out of our circumstances. Maybe our circumstances are the result of our choice or another’s or merely the result of a hard and unrelenting world, but still, here we are. 

Here we, then, in our individual deserts, in our own jungles, in our mazes and labyrinths and webs. Where do we go from here? How do we find peace, how do we find our way from here? How do we break out of what holds us back, what keeps us in prisons of discouragement and depression? 

If we can quiet our phones and our minds even just a little, even just for a moment, we will hear a still, small, gentle voice, calling out to our deepest longings. 

“Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls.”—Matthew 11:28-29

This ancient call comes from Jesus, the God-Man who turned history and lives upside down, who came to us in dire circumstances of his own. Born to an unwed mother, forced to flee his native country as a child, living a common, day-to-day life of a laborer for most of his years on earth, Jesus understands the need for rest, for peace, for purpose in the middle of life’s hardest seasons. He understood how hard it is to wait, how hard it is to ignore the other calls in our lives. 

We can trust this call comes from someone who understands us in all our seasons and sorrows, and from someone who has the power and the desire to give us a true rest, a true home, a calm in the middle of the storm. This call is still for us, the modern cynics, the baby boomers, the Generation X-ers, the entitled and the apathetic, the successful and the failed, the passionate and the confused, the energetic and the tired. This call is for us, for me and for you.

He never forces us to come to him; he only calls out to us to come, the only one who can offer what we so desperately need and desire. When we come to him, even when we have to crawl or limp, he will lavish rest and grace and peace. We will not find all the sorrow gone, no; we will find that the yoke of living life is now shared, and we will now walk with Christ Himself. We will find a loving teacher, a loving savior, a loving Father and Friend to support and strengthen our hearts. Even in the middle of heavy circumstances and burdens, we will find rest. That is the radical and wild promise of Jesus to us. When we, the Prodigals who have run from home, merely turn around, we will find Jesus waiting to embrace us in love and grace. We will be amazed at what He can do with our lives, our hearts, our brokenness, our pain, our fatigue. He is ready to exchange our ashes for beauty, our sorrows for joy, our sins for holiness, our mourning into dancing. He is ready to make us new, as each day is new and full of promise.