Healing

The Best Christmas Was The Most Painful Christmas

/ Lori Lawe / 3 Comments

I held my head in my hands, the non-physical pain consuming me, twisting my body to reflect my inner state.

The mother placed the baby in my arms and spoke of WHEN I took her home, enveloped her in our family. This baby was the gift that came no less miraculously than a child that emerges, astonishingly from one’s own womb. Except she traversed from God, through another’s womb, through the arms of another mother, into my arms.

And like a child ripped from her mother’s arms, she was taken from my arms and placed in another home.

We were pleased that the child would be taken care of, her needs met, thrive in a loving home.

And yet the pain in our hearts was only partially placated.

Every human soul carries its own pain within.

A loved one passes, an illness, a broken relationship, broken dreams, general ennui, desperation, hopelessness, despair. . . The waves of trouble that break over the human soul break us too, as our souls hit the rocks, making us bleed from the trials that have arrived on our doorstep, unbidden.

We open the door to today and the tidal wave of disappointment has arrived. We are left sitting on the floor alone in our world, unable to stand.

As we look around for a hand to help us up, something to hold onto, it seems hope is a long way away sometimes.

Can you see it?

I couldn’t either.

And then Christmas knocks on our door with the request to give to the needy, to distract ourselves with shallow merrymaking, to make ourselves sick with food that is sweet in the mouth and cancerous to the bones.

“Is this all there is?” we ask, our Santa hats adorning our heads in an effort to embrace the spirit of the season, our TV remote flipping from channel to channel, waxed chocolate at the fingertips.

Numb, again.

Another Christmas season has arrived, and we are numb.

No!

The old life is gone; a new life emerges!

The Message

That Christmas, the one when I could hardly breathe, I took off the old.

I crossed off the list of people that we were “supposed” to buy presents for. No more presents for friends, friend’s kids, extended family, parents, grandparents, my spouse. “And no presents for me,” I announced. We bought a few small gifts for a few children. And joy returned.

I crossed off the list the duty to make the Christmas treats I made every year, unthinkingly. I tried a few simple treats with a healthier spin. And joy returned.

I left the box of Christmas decorations in the basement unopened. When I finally gazed inside, I pulled out a few items that were handmade by friends or had sparked a particular delight, or a cherished memory. And joy returned.

I said no to every party, to the ones we were expected to attend that were too loud, had too much drinking, and too much shallow joy. We had a couple of quiet celebrations with a handful of friends or family, and good food. And joy returned.

No more expectations. The old has gone.

And the new life emerging?

And like the caterpillar that makes time for the quiet of the chrysalis, we too made time for the quiet.

– Time in the quiet morning hours, seeking my King

– Time for Christmas church services, as we sought to awaken our senses to the awe of the season through the life of the babe in a manger

– Time for a hug or a smile or an understanding look, more, more often from those around me

I spent time every evening that season with our little toddler at the outdoor skating rink. The one that is free.

When we fell, we would laugh and then sit quietly together for a moment noticing how the lights rimmed the rink, peering through the darkness. I could almost discern the light of the season through those lights.

And like the lights shining in the darkness, at the skating rink that is free, His free gift of love burst through my heart a little more often in the quiet mornings, in the moments of quiet at the worship services, in the quiet smiles of those whose lives I stumbled across.

And each smile was like gazing into another’s soul because I took the extra moment to see them, to know that they too, being human, have heart wounds. Can my smile, my love, be a drop of healing ointment to them, as theirs is to me?

And it was the best Christmas of my life.

As the song plays, consider asking God: How can any anticipated pain of this Christmas season be transformed into joy?

What I Am Learning About Suffering Well After Twenty-Nine Days Of Bed Rest

/ Lori Lawe / Leave a comment

The first week on bed rest wasn’t too bad.

I was pretty sure my body would figure itself out, my back would crack in the right direction, and I would be up and running in no time.

I opened an office on my bed, barking orders at my homeschooled kid, and attending meetings online.

I forgot to tell one male teacher why I was in bed during the online call which was a bit embarrassing after the fact. But I’ve done more embarrassing things in good health.

My husband brought me coffee each morning. My daughters brought me tea. All in all, it wasn’t the end of the world.

But I’m on day twenty-nine today of near constant bed rest. The allure has lost its charm.

I was struggling to hang onto my mood today, meaning I was trying to kick a foul mood and find some fruits of the spirit somewhere, but I was coming up empty-handed again.

A friend texted me “How are you?”

I shut off the phone and rolled over. Where do I begin? I’m trying to hold onto a positive attitude.

Don’t shut her out, I felt God whisper.

I answered her text.

Be honest, I felt him whisper again.

She phoned later that night. And again, despite my foul mood, I felt God prompting me to pick up the phone, to say something.

I answered the phone and chatted imbecilely about happy things in our life – toilet training our new rabbit, our daughter home from university this week.

And when we got to the subject of my back I tried to keep up a brave front for a while. No one likes a bother. We all have stuff we walk through, after all.

But I was surprised when I felt emotional as I babbled my feelings to her. I’ve seen her tears before so it was safe for her to see mine. So I let them flow a little. And I learned a bit more about myself, about the lessons I’m learning on this journey of suffering. Here are a few:

1. It’s fear again that’s robbing my joy. I couldn’t figure out why the first week of bed rest was not too bad but today with a regression of symptoms was so upsetting. Yes. It’s because fear has shown itself again, reared its ugly head again, gnawing away at the courage in my heart. What if I get worse? Fear. And fear fed by my unfiltered thoughts grew bigger, overpowering my peace.

2. I was also afraid I wasn’t doing enough. Apparently, this is the a very common fear most humans feel, I recently learned*. What if I should be taking one healthcare provider’s advice and not the other’s, or vice versa? What if I try to get up and move around too much or too little? Fear. Fear that I am not walking the tight-rope of expectations for a temperamental back that randomly punishes me no matter what I do.

3. The remedy to fear? Repentance. I actually feel powerful when I repent of fear, ironically. Try saying this: God I’m sorry for being fearful of something way far out in my future when you promised me only enough grace for today. Jesus, I’m sorry for thinking that I’m going to pull myself up by the bootstraps and fix this back problem when I can’t even see my own back, never mind have any idea what knots my back nerves and muscles inside have gotten themselves into. Forgive me for thinking, again, that I will save me. Instead, guide me and whisper to me, and help me to learn from you how much rest and movement my body needs to heal.

And so the phone call ended.

My situation hasn’t changed but my heart of a lion was feeling stronger. I could sense it beating within me again. Whatever I go through You will strengthen me. Whatever difficulty I face You are there with me. When I go through the valley, You comfort me.

As you listen to this song, try repenting of your fear, repenting of your self-sufficiency, and thanking God for the glimmers of hope in your life. Then ask Holy Spirit how to have enough strength to face today. What do you hear Him whisper?

Blogpost Footnotes

* Joyce Meyer – Do It Afraid! Obeying God In The Face Of Fear

How To LOVE Exhausting Yourself Exercising! (Healthy Habits Part 3)

/ Lori Lawe / Leave a comment

Not long ago, I wrote a post outlining Ten Keystone Habits that allowed me to stay within my recommended weight range my entire life. The first keystone habit is to LOVE drinking nothing but water.

The second keystone habit is exercise. Ha! Spellcheck changed EXERcise to EXORcise. Exorcism is a good habit too, but today we’re talking about exercise. The two go hand-in-hand actually. You want to get rid of any negative influences in your life (exorcise) so you can have the energy to do what God is calling you to do.

Tip 1: You want to remember how you feel AFTER you do exercise. Not before. Not during. 

You are going to feel amazing.

In fact, your new identity as a “person who is getting fit” and how you therefore feel is going to fuel this whole thing – all the healthy habits – on losing weight.

So this habit is not to be skipped.

For now, let’s start where we’re at. If all we can do is walk, let’s go for a walk, bring our dog and our friend, get an ice cream after if it’s Sunday – who cares? We did it! Let’s give ourselves a pat on the back.

The passive-aggressive, intense ones among us do better with some challenge to our exercise routines to keep boredom away.

Two examples of exercise challenges from my life:

– I felt God calling me to learn a new sport, squash, in middle age. How is God calling us into a new thing in this next season? Could this be as mundane as exercise, or do we assume God is only interested in more “spiritual” endeavours? (Answer: Nope, He’s interested in guiding us always).

– Dreaming about sports that are sometimes just out of reach due to intermittent back problems keeps me motivated to get stronger: mountain biking, downhill skiing, triathlons, CrossFit, climbing.

Did my 20-year-old climbing gear stored in the basement disintegrate from neglect yet? Dreaming about opening the box again ignites a future challenge that motivates me to do my granny exercises again today.

(Our motivation doesn’t have to necessarily be encumbered by reality).

Tip 2: Have your exercise clothes ready in the bathroom so that as soon as you get up, without thinking, the first thing you do is put them on. Your challenge is to wear exercise clothes all day until you’ve done some exercise. Even if it’s exercising for a few minutes here and there.

Tip 3: Ideally, let’s get out in the morning! This stimulates earlier melatonin release helping us sleep better at night, too.

All in all, we’ve just gotta do it.

So right now, I’m your mother and just do it. The world needs you and your gifts. How are you going to have enough energy to do all the things God is calling you to do if you’re not going to rev your energy levels up by getting some exercise?

This is non-negotiable. 

I feel strongly. You have to listen to me. 

That’s all I have to say for now. Do it or else! 

Goodbye!

Mourning Together With Coyotes Is Healthy

/ Lori Lawe / Leave a comment

My dog is smarter than he looks.

I mean, he doesn’t look that smart when the fire engine or the coyotes are howling outside, and our dog howls along with them.

Does he not know he is not a fire truck? Or a coyote?

But he is definitely smarter than he looks.

For example, once on a walk, I suddenly heard coyotes howling very close to us. (There is a real world outside of LA where actual trees and flowers exist!).

I quickly grabbed onto his leash. I was certain my fluffy mini-golden doodle would head for the middle of the pack and howl along with them, making his dog dreams a reality (Being called a “doodle” is never cool in coyote society. Being called “fluffy” doesn’t help either. Or “mini.”)

But instead, tail between his legs, he hunkered down and ran home, me stumbling along behind him.

When we got safely inside, and he was protected by a locked door, he opened his mouth wide, and howled in freedom, just one of the pack.

He somehow knew that the coyotes would eat him if they got a chance. But that didn’t stop him from also knowing that mourning with others is healthy.

I feel the same way actually.

I know I will never be accepted into a pack of coyotes.

But that doesn’t change the fact that I want to learn to mourn, to lament in my community with the freedom of a coyote.

“. . . weep with those who weep” Ancient Text

You may think you’ve heard coyotes wail because you watched a John Wayne movie once, but the lamenting, prolonged howl of a group of coyotes is really nothing like that.

Coyotes send shivers down your spine when you hear them mournfully wailing.

You kind of think they’ll shut up after a few minutes but they don’t. It can go on for hours, sometimes in the middle of the day.

“What in the world are they crying about?” I finally wondered.

Coyotes mourn in packs in the fall, when a younger coyote sets off on his own. (I read that on the internet*.)

And so this is what we can learn from coyotes:

1. They mourn together as a group and out loud.

2. They mourn about one thing, and then gracefully interweave their sadness to other stuff that is also breaking their little hearts. (Give me a break here – I know we can’t read the minds of coyotes, but this is my interpretation of what they’re saying. Do you have a better idea of what coyotes think about when they mourn in the fall? No, I thought not!)

3. This grieving process helps them. I mean most of the time coyotes are pretty well-adjusted, right? 50% of them are not sucking back Prozac or the equivalent, like us humans. Maybe we can learn from them.

I’ll explain what we can learn next time.

* Scientific Information Source

The Nature Conservancy: “There’s also a lot of contradictory information – and complete nonsense – written about coyotes.”

Blogpost Footnotes

No! I’m not a coyote-ologist or whatever that’s called. No! I’ve never even studied coyotes. Why do you ask?

Oh! I did read a really funny Canadian classic book once called Never Cry Wolf, and wolves are sort of like coyotes, I think. Does that count?

Anyway, I know the next blog post outlining what I’ve learned from coyotes will help you.

You’re welcome!

Good luck!