(un)Forgetting

Thank you. 

Thank you if you've read a status update and prayed. Thank you if you've read this and prayed. Thank you if you did either of those and said you'd pray and then forgot...that counts, we'll take it. Thank for the cards and gifts and money and food and more food. For the texts and messages and emails. For stopping me at Walmart and telling me it's okay to lie when you ask how we are. Thank you for sitting in the corner of a waiting room and not giving me easy answers. Thank you for showing up without asking, just because presence matters. If we have ever crossed your mind in the midst of your own chaos and life, THANK YOU. 

Today makes it one week. One week since we walked out of Harris and drove home. We made it two thirds of the way home and her back (lumbar drain site) started leaking. We turned around, both crying, and headed to the ER. Doctor told us to turn back around and go home and lay flat. So we did. She in the bed, me in the recliner across the room. 

"Here we go again" is all I could think. Every move she made was monitored. I stared at her incision, willing it closed. Changing her bandage and begging that a hole I could barely see to seal. It was like getting back on that roller coaster you really wish you could never ride again. I'm such a disciple. 

I've been digging around the Gospels and the stories of the disciples with Jesus. More and more I find myself drawn to them. They seem really human and I really like human. 

How long was it before Peter forgot he walked on water with Jesus? What about after they all enjoyed the wine at the party, how long before the forgot? They see him feed 5,000 and then call him a ghost. Over and over again they saw Jesus do something amazing and a chapter later they are booking it back to Emmaus. 

We have a cool story to tell. We have been blessed beyond measure. She's home, she's laughing, she's giving me orders again, and she's dry. Call me crazy, but I believe God told me a few Saturdays back to tell her he'd fix her. That he'd heal and seal her. I believe he invited us out into the water, held our hands when we got scared, didn't hesitate, and helped us walk out of that 5th floor. 

But she got a headache two nights ago and I forgot. Im such a disciple. 

"Hey Jesus, what have you done for me lately?"

I got lost in fear and anxiety. I scolded Jesus for not making this easy. I wondered, again, where he was. I'm such a disciple. 

The cool thing about reading through the Gospels...Jesus never quits or gets tired of them forgetting. He meets them on the road back to Emmaus, appears through locked doors, and even makes them breakfast on the beach. He keeps showing up and being Jesus. I'm grateful for that. 

"It's so tempting to believe that God, too, operates from the scarcity principle. But there is always enough grace. Always and ever enough." Rachel Held Evans

Try and not forget. You will. I will. We will together, probably sometime today. But try. Try and remember that God never quits, never stops running, never stops healing and sealing, never ever stops being God just because you forget. 

Keep us in your prayers and thank you for the radical hospitality you have showed my family. 

#teamhealandseal

Without hesitation

Peter, suddenly bold, said, “Master, if it’s really you, call me to come to you on the water.” He said, “Come ahead.” Jumping out of the boat, Peter walked on the water to Jesus. But when he looked down at the waves churning beneath his feet, he lost his nerve and started to sink. He cried, “Master, save me!”

Jesus didn’t hesitate. He reached down and grabbed his hand. Then he said, “Faint-heart, what got into you?” 

(Matthew 14:28-31 MSG)

Jesus didn't hesitate. There was no teaching Peter a lesson on the part of Jesus. There was no letting him almost drown and then reaching for him. No committee meeting was called. Jesus didn't hesitate. 

When I've read this story, and others, in the past I've always seen stern Jesus there at the end. The Jesus who is upset because Peter sank and he had to save him. Like Jesus was mad at the lack of faith. I have the ingrained idea that Jesus walked around annoyed because the disciples were dumb. I have no idea where it comes from, but I find myself reading the Bible as if Jesus is always perturbed with the humans in his life. Maybe it's because I have the whole story in my hand and because I think they're dumb, Jesus probably does as well. 

This journey we are on has made me read the Bible a little different recently. Not so much from a place of superiority or as the self help book we pitch in our churches. I read it now because in the quite places, when I'm scared out of my mind, I need to know that Peter sank and Jesus didn't hesitate. 

(Side note: Where we read the Bible matters. Don't ever forget that.)

When I read it in The Message I even see Jesus smile as he asks, "what got into you?" I like smiling Jesus a lot. I like smiling Jesus when I'm going down the elevator trying to escape the 5th floor, praying the bandage is dry, freaking out, then remembering God is going to fix her, and Jesus smiles and says to me "what's got in to you?"

And he doesn't hesitate. 

He doesn't get mad at my lack of faith. 

He doesn't punish me for looking at the waves and feeling the wind rage around me. 

He doesn't wait for my bargain.

And He doesn't hesitate to grab my hand.  

And yes, we are still dry. 

#teamhealandseal

Holy Saturday

The Saturday between the crucifixion and resurrection has always fascinated me. Yes, the book-end days are where we spend our Easters, but there is something about that Saturday. 

God was dead, now what?

I have to think that not all the followers scattered in fear. Not all of them hid out. Not all of them packed it up and went back home. Some of them waited. Some of them tried to piece together conversations and ideas from Jesus, looking for a slice of hope. A hope that said...maybe, hopefully something we can't see yet is about to happen. 

Imagine going to work, having a meal, taking a walk, or just trying to be normal that Saturday. Waiting. Hoping. Then losing hope. Remembering something HE said. Then having hope again. And waiting more. 

Faith was born on that Saturday. 

We are still watching a drain. We wait for a drip and then count the seconds until the next drip. It's maddening to wait and yet thrilling when it drops. Each time they roll Stacey over to check her incision and bandage is pure anxiety overload, then they tell us it's dry and we relax until the next shift change. We try and piece information together from doctors and nurses for some glimmer of hope. We try and block out the negative noise that gets overwhelmingly loud at times and remember to encourage each other. To hold hands and shut up. We reach for the next small victory. We hope and wait. 

In the next few days we will challenge the incision and drain. We will begin to find out how much healing has happened. 

But I can't help but feel like I'm walking into that Saturday between Good Friday and Easter Sunday. The space where faith is born. The place that is scary and unknown. The place where demons haunt you and anxiety runs rampant. Did it heal? What if? Why didn't you do this or that? The place where all is quite except those voices you wish you could shut off...

But I want with everything I am to believe that Sunday will come. That new is just around the corner. That dark always gives way to light. That Stacey's dura has sealed and we can go home. We can begin anew. I tell my shower walls and car windshield every morning that "I believe". 

And I do believe. I really do. We will get better and not bitter. But she and HE still have some work to do. She's got a few more days of laying on her back. A few more days of waiting and watching a drain. A few more shift changes. There is still some fight left. 

But I saw her smile that infectious smile today. The one that got me 13 years ago. The smile that's been absent for three long weeks. It was just another step towards the new... 

Here we come Sunday. 

I believe. 

#teamhealandseal