The power of music
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Note before you read this: I wrote this, but never posted it (oops!) about a week ago. I am now - praise God! - through my tough weeks. I might write more about MRSA part two (which is what made the past couple of weeks tough), but I don't feel like doing so right now. Now to the post ...
This has been a tough week, and next week will probably be another tough one. I was sitting here reflecting on it all while I listened to 91.1 (our local Christian station) and was struck at the power of music and at God's perfect timing, since all of the songs in this post played in the past half hour or so.
On days of gray
When doubt clouds my view
It's so hard to see past my fears
My strength seems to fade
And it's all I can do
To hold on, til the light reappears
Still, I believe though some rains bound to fall
That you're here next to me
And you're over it all
(chorus)
Lord, the sky's still blue
For my hope is in you
You're my joy
You're the dream that's still alive
Like the wind at my back
And the sun on my face
You are life
You're grace
You are blue skies
(Point of Grace, Blue Skies)
So here's the deal: I have another MRSA infection and had another minor surgery to deal with it. Once again, I'm on hardcore antibiotics. Once again, they're making me sick. And it's more painful all around this time since the infection is deeper this time (though, thankfully, still localized to one area and not systemic) and since it's in a spot where it can be more easily irritated than last time. My joints are acting up a bit since my immune system is having to kick into high gear to fight this off. And my thyroid meds are off right now, so my resting pulse is dangerously high, so all the activity I had been doing is on hold for now until we get that regulated again. Oh, and I'm getting over a cold. But you know what? I'm not letting these circumstances squelch my praise.
And I will lift my hands
For You are who You are
No matter where I am
Every tear I've cried
You hold in Your hand
You never left my side
And though my heart is torn
I will praise You in this storm
(Praise You in This Storm, Casting Crowns)
I heard this next song for the first time on the way to what seemed like my millionth appointment with yet another specialist when I was pregnant with Robbie. It just seemed so appropriate and will always be a song that I link with these first couple of years of navigating the big medical terms I didn't know how to spell before they were used to describe my health. None of it seems as big as it did even a year ago, so I know I will continue to adjust and get used to my new circumstances. And in the midst of having my health struggles, I've also had these two beautiful children added to our family. That's why it's so hard for me to sum up the past two years: trials intertwined with blessings, both of which have made Lee and me grow closer to each other and, more importantly, to God. In a world where self-sufficiency is upheld as something to aim for, I relish in resting in the sufficiency of God. I'm not sure I would have been able to honestly say that two years ago.
You would think only so much can go wrong
Calamity only strikes once
And you assume this one has suffered her share
Life will be kinder from here
Oh, but sometimes the sun stays hidden for years
Sometimes the sky rains night after night
When will it clear?
But our Hope endures the worst of conditions
It's more than our optimism
Let the earth quake
Our Hope is unchanged
How do we comprehend peace within pain?
Or joy at a good man's wake?
Walk a mile with the woman whose body is torn
With illness but she marches on
Oh, 'cause sometimes the sun stays hidden for years
Sometimes the sky rains night after night
When will it clear?
But our Hope endures the worst of conditions
It's more than our optimism
Let the earth quake
Hope is unchanged
Emmanuel, God is with us
El Shaddai, all sufficient
We never walk alone
And this is our hope
But our Hope endures the worst of conditions
It's more than our optimism
Let the earth quake
Our Hope is unchanged
(Our Hope Endures, Natalie Grant)
I know God ordained this precious paradox, that all these health problems have emerged at the same time that we were blessed with our two sweet children. It's not hard to remain full of hope and perspective when I have a little girl squealing as we pull into one doctor's office because she remembers that they have toys ... or another office because she remembers that they have candy ... or another office because she knows that's where Mommy has her labs done and thinks that it's really cool to watch them take blood from Mommy's arm (yes, I do think it's weird and a bit morbid that she gets so much joy from that!) ... and so on. I have it good. I am blessed.
This has been a tough week, and next week will probably be another tough one. I was sitting here reflecting on it all while I listened to 91.1 (our local Christian station) and was struck at the power of music and at God's perfect timing, since all of the songs in this post played in the past half hour or so.
On days of gray
When doubt clouds my view
It's so hard to see past my fears
My strength seems to fade
And it's all I can do
To hold on, til the light reappears
Still, I believe though some rains bound to fall
That you're here next to me
And you're over it all
(chorus)
Lord, the sky's still blue
For my hope is in you
You're my joy
You're the dream that's still alive
Like the wind at my back
And the sun on my face
You are life
You're grace
You are blue skies
(Point of Grace, Blue Skies)
So here's the deal: I have another MRSA infection and had another minor surgery to deal with it. Once again, I'm on hardcore antibiotics. Once again, they're making me sick. And it's more painful all around this time since the infection is deeper this time (though, thankfully, still localized to one area and not systemic) and since it's in a spot where it can be more easily irritated than last time. My joints are acting up a bit since my immune system is having to kick into high gear to fight this off. And my thyroid meds are off right now, so my resting pulse is dangerously high, so all the activity I had been doing is on hold for now until we get that regulated again. Oh, and I'm getting over a cold. But you know what? I'm not letting these circumstances squelch my praise.
I remember when
I stumbled in the wind
You heard my cry
You raised me up again
My strength is almost gone
How can I carry on
If I can't find You
As the thunder rolls
I barely hear You whisper through the rain
"I'm with you"
And as Your mercy falls
I raise my hands and praise the God who gives
And takes away
I will praise You in this storm
And I will lift my hands
For You are who You are
No matter where I am
Every tear I've cried
You hold in Your hand
You never left my side
And though my heart is torn
I will praise You in this storm
(Praise You in This Storm, Casting Crowns)
I heard this next song for the first time on the way to what seemed like my millionth appointment with yet another specialist when I was pregnant with Robbie. It just seemed so appropriate and will always be a song that I link with these first couple of years of navigating the big medical terms I didn't know how to spell before they were used to describe my health. None of it seems as big as it did even a year ago, so I know I will continue to adjust and get used to my new circumstances. And in the midst of having my health struggles, I've also had these two beautiful children added to our family. That's why it's so hard for me to sum up the past two years: trials intertwined with blessings, both of which have made Lee and me grow closer to each other and, more importantly, to God. In a world where self-sufficiency is upheld as something to aim for, I relish in resting in the sufficiency of God. I'm not sure I would have been able to honestly say that two years ago.
You would think only so much can go wrong
Calamity only strikes once
And you assume this one has suffered her share
Life will be kinder from here
Oh, but sometimes the sun stays hidden for years
Sometimes the sky rains night after night
When will it clear?
But our Hope endures the worst of conditions
It's more than our optimism
Let the earth quake
Our Hope is unchanged
How do we comprehend peace within pain?
Or joy at a good man's wake?
Walk a mile with the woman whose body is torn
With illness but she marches on
Oh, 'cause sometimes the sun stays hidden for years
Sometimes the sky rains night after night
When will it clear?
But our Hope endures the worst of conditions
It's more than our optimism
Let the earth quake
Hope is unchanged
Emmanuel, God is with us
El Shaddai, all sufficient
We never walk alone
And this is our hope
But our Hope endures the worst of conditions
It's more than our optimism
Let the earth quake
Our Hope is unchanged
(Our Hope Endures, Natalie Grant)
I know God ordained this precious paradox, that all these health problems have emerged at the same time that we were blessed with our two sweet children. It's not hard to remain full of hope and perspective when I have a little girl squealing as we pull into one doctor's office because she remembers that they have toys ... or another office because she remembers that they have candy ... or another office because she knows that's where Mommy has her labs done and thinks that it's really cool to watch them take blood from Mommy's arm (yes, I do think it's weird and a bit morbid that she gets so much joy from that!) ... and so on. I have it good. I am blessed.
