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Mary, Did You Know?

There are many things to think about when recalling the Easter story; self sacrificing love, victory over death, fear, sadness, forgivenes and much more, but this Easter I want to focus on one small figure at the foot of the cross. Mary. “Now there stood by the cross of Jesus his mother, his mother’s sister, Mary the wife of Cleophas, and Mary Magdalene.” John 19:25 (KJV)

There she stood at the cross, the foot of which was most likely soaked in blood. I imagine the small divot where the cross was pounded into the ground was also pooled with blood. I can see her tear soaked face looking up, squinting in the sun, trying to catch a glimpse of her baby. She probably saw no more than his chest painfully rising upward while he was struggling to breathe. I can imagine her getting as close to the cross as she could, possibly soaking her own clothes in his trickling blood. Maybe it would have been just enough for her to feel a tip if her finger on his toe. A small touch that would say, “Mother is here.” It wasn’t likely that she would have a chance of touching any part of him, but at the very least, she probably came into contact with his blood. He was beaten severely before they nailed him to the cross and the scene that beheld his mother’s eyes was no doubt horrific. But she was his mother and that’s what a good mother does, she’s with her children in their time of need. She probably got as close as she could so her baby would know mother was there.

I know how much it hurts me anytime my children are hurt. In about a months time my youngest son will have neurosurgery, no doubt the reason why my Easter post took this topic. I can’t imagine the moment my little boy gets wheeled back for surgery without tearing up. I know my son will be in the care of the very best neurosurgeon but it doesn’t relieve most of my worries. I will have the obvious worry until I can touch him in recovery. I will feel relieved once I can touch my son and let him know, “Mommy is here.”

There is comfort in those words, “Mommy is here.” I find it a beautifully designed plan of God’s to allow the Son of Man to be born of a woman. He was God with a human mother and by every description of her, she was a wonderful mother. She was loving, honest, and faithful. She obeyed God with no thought of herself when she was told she was with child. She knew she was a virgin but what would her husband Joseph say? How did she know he’d still take her as his wife? Did she worry about these things when God asked her to carry His holy vessel? We will never know her intimate thoughts but she knew she was going to participate in a plan that would forever change humanity. I think about that when I look at the difficulty I face. My problems will not change the world and my plans will not be recounted for generations to come, but yet, I worry. I don’t think I have the faith Mary possessed. I know I am not the woman of faith God needs me to be, but I’m trying. I also know God has not asked me to sacrifice my son as he did Mary. What does this story of mother and son mean to me? Can it also have meaning for you?

I can only imagine what was also going through Mary’s mind during the crucifixion. There was little detail regarding Mary during this moment in time, but let’s try to stand with Mary and look at it through the eyes of a mother. Here she stood at the foot of a cross, watching her bruised, beaten, bloody, and dying son struggle for his life, possibly recalling the moment his life began. She may have thought of every other beautiful moment she had with her son since his birth, and now, the torment she must have felt as she was helpless to save him. I can see her anger for those who were mocking and belittling him. I can feel her agony as she realized what she was witnessing was indeed reality and when she finally could touch her boy, he’d be dead. Even if she had knowledge of his resurrection, she still had to witness his horrible death. It was a death he didn’t deserve because he was wrongfully accused. He was tortured and he was humiliated. He was an innocent man publicly shamed as a criminal and no one knew this better than Mary. This makes me think of the song, “Mary Did You Know?” Did she see what Jesus saw in the garden as he asked for this to be passed from him on the day of his birth? Did she look at the perfect son she had just delivered and see the death that awaited him? Christ did, and he was so fearful, he agonized over it. The Bible says, “And he was withdrawn from them about a stone’s cast, and kneeled down and prayed, saying, Father, if thou be willing, remove this cup from me: nevertheless not my will, but thine, be done.” Luke 22:41-42 (KJV) “And being in agony he prayed more earnestly: and his sweat was as it were great drops of blood falling to the ground.” Luke 22:44 (KJV) He didn’t want to experience the pain, even when he knew the effect his death would have on mankind. This verse comforts me because Jesus had all knowledge of his death, spoke to God honestly about his fears in prayer, and asked that God’s will be done. In difficult times, I take comfort in the obedience Christ displays for us here. He felt fear over his life, just like I have. He prayed and told God how he didn’t want to experience the pain, just as I have. Then, he asked for and accepted God’s will, just as I am still trying to learn. God doesn’t ask any more from us than he did from his own son. Mary and Jesus both obeyed, even when they saw the tragedy ahead.

Jesus even obeyed while he was dying. Jesus spoke few words as he died, but he spoke these words no doubt out of love and obedience, “When Jesus therefore saw his mother, and the disciple standing by, whom he loved, he saith unto his mother, Woman behold thy son. He saith to the disciple, Behold thy mother! And from that hour that disciple took her unto his home. After this, Jesus knowing that all things were now accomplished, that the scripture might be fulfilled, saith, I thirst.” John 19:26-27 (KJV) His mother, Mary was most likely widowed at this time and would have no home and no income. It was customary during this time in history for women to be put in the care of someone else at the passing of the man who was caring for her. Jesus didn’t forget his mother standing there. He made sure he took care of her in his most desperate hour. I can recall many times where my husband and I were experiencing the same pain, yet he took care of my needs before his own. It’s hard to forget that kind of love. Jesus was displaying self-sacrificing love two times over on the cross. He was sacrificing his life for mankind and put his mother’s needs before his own while he did it. My husband’s actions will never be of that magnitude, but through his actions, I have no doubt how much he loves me. When one person puts your needs before their own, they are displaying the same love Christ displayed at the cross.

Mary saw her son give up his own life shortly after this. He was removed from the cross and it was finished. In God’s great plan, taking care of Jesus’ earthly mother was included. He didn’t say, “Thanks for carrying my holy vessel Mary, get lost.” He had a plan for her care right to the end. He honored his mother. Three days later, Jesus rose from the grave proving victory over death. He didn’t forget his mother then either; Acts 1:14 says, “These all continued with one accord in prayer and supplication, with the women, and Mary the mother of Jesus, and with his brethren.” (KJV) Jesus spent time with the disciples, and even his mother after he rose from the dead. They prayed and worshipped together until the time he ascended into heaven. Again, the Bible didn’t mention the interaction between mother and son during this time, but there must have been joy in Mary’s heart once she saw her resurrected son. All the pain, sorrow, and grief of the cross must have melted away. She may have spent her time with him, once again admiring the wondrous works God was doing through him. Maybe she finally felt the magnitude of her pregnancy and the angel’s words to her saying she was with child.

These days, motherhood begins with two pink lines, no proclamation from heaven but the news is still as sweet. God had a plan for the mother of his son and never forgot her faithfulness. I imagine he always smiled on the woman who said, “Yes” to a plan that was uncertain for a woman in her time. She had the faith to answer God’s call and follow that all the way to the foot of a bloody cross where she watched her beloved die. His life did not end in vain. No, he had a purpose and in it, so did she. It was her “Yes” that helped complete a plan put in motion before Adam ever placed his feet upon the new creation. God had Mary in mind when he decided one final sacrifice had to be made to unite man with God. He had a plan for him and he had a plan for her. There was death and tears at that cross and there was blood, a lot of blood. Mary was probably covered in her son’s blood just as we are when we say “Yes” as she did. When we say “Yes” he has a plan for us, all the way to the end because he doesn’t forget. Like Mary, he has also promised us a new home. An eternal one. Mary wasn’t afraid to come close to the cross because she was Jesus’ mother and she’d follow him anywhere. I have no doubt Mary would take our hands and lead us to the cross where we too can be covered by the blood of the one last sacrifice because there we can find love. There lies the ultimate form of love and forgiveness. Follow Mary. Take the journey to the foot of the cross with her this Easter and ask, “Mary, did you know?”

*d*

Down, But Not Out

I’m heading into week three of being sick…two different illnesses…and week three of no aerobics. This is where I planned to say, “SEE?!? THIS KIND OF THING HAPPENS EVERY TIME I TRY TO IMPLEMENT A HEALTHY ROUTINE IN MY LIFE.” But, I won’t, well, except where I just said it anyway. I’m not going to let this throw me. When I’m better, I will get back at it. I refuse to see this as a ploy by my bod to make sure I never whip it back into shape or a sign that I am allergic to exercise. It is what it is and I am not going to beat myself up about not being able to jump around and get sweaty right now.

I have plenty of other things to worry about so I choose to remove that from my list.

~L~

Finding Hope

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There are times like tonight when the reality of my own life is overwhelming. It usually happens when the house is quiet and all the kids are in their beds. It’s at this time of night I have a chance to really think about things. Every day seems to move faster and more furiously toward too many events I cannot understand or control.

In the quiet night air is where anxious and stomach churning thoughts often disrupt what should be a peaceful end to the day. It’s hard to ignore the pain I feel at the end of each day when my body starts to feel the repercussions of any physical activity I may have been a part of. It can get so intense that it feels like punishment for participating in my own life.

It’s when I retire to my own bed earlier than almost every other person my age that I think of my sick little boy sleeping in his own bed. I worry about seizures that may go unheard. I sicken over the knowledge of my own weakness when he is in need. If an emergency arose, would I reach him fast enough? Could I physically do what is necessary if needed? I usually push these thoughts from my head the moment my husband appears in the doorway of our bedroom. “What would I do without him?” A thought of appreciation but also a bit of a morbid one, but a thought most parents with a sick child have frequently. We wonder how the delicate balance of our family could be repaired if we lost one of us. The magnitude of such a reality is frightening.

Often, when I recall my own thoughts of the day, I realize death lingers in my own mind more often than I am willing to admit. I have a chronic disease. My disease is running rampant while I am holding on with any last scrap of optimism I can muster. I wonder how I have any thoughts that even resemble positivity because life certainly hasn’t handed out a fair share of difficulty. It seems like the scale is not tipped in our favor. When one terrible event happens, another is rushing toward us.

The big issue with chronic illness is the “chronic” part of the phrase. It’s definition; constant or having a long duration tells me what kind of hope my son and I have at a release from disease and pain. With incurable disease, the disease never ends and freedoom from it comes only through death. With pain a constant companion to incurable, chronic disease, it isn’t a wonder why my thoughts seem quite morbid. It’s also easy to understand why I’m depressed. There isn’t an end to the pain or side effects of disease…….. there is no end. There are no cures or a remission for us. Medicine and surgery only treat the symptoms and based on the drastic measures we are taking to treat our son’s symptoms, it sometimes doesn’t feel like much of a life at all.

Dreams are put on hold, plans are cancelled, and hope seems lost. But it’s that small word almost at the end of the last sentence that have given strength to so many in worse circumstances than my own. Sometimes it’s the only thing people who feel weary and burdened use to overcome. Hope.

Hope is a word manifested through people, actions, and words. Hope is sometimes given, sometimes it’s stumbled upon, but hope is often the only thing left when everything else feels lost. On those days when I am focused on going back to bed because of the relentless pain, I cling to the hope that tomorrow will be better. I have hope that I can make each day wonderful in spite of it. Hope is the echos of a good deed. Those echos reverberate in my heart, especially in recent times, and have often brought me to tears. From gesures of kind thoughts or prayers to giving generously with no ask of recognition, we have felt more love than we may have felt in a lifetime with no difficulty. We have been humbled by pain but also by love. What a feeling it is to have a breaking heart also feel so full.

When it feels like life is too much, I don’t have to look far to find happiness. It’s the smile on our children’s faces. It’s their endless desire to love and be loved. It’s those who see past our absence from their lives due to the circumstances we can’t control and choose love us anyway.  We feel loved when we finally crouch out of our darkness and into the world and there are people still waiting with open arms.

I have hope when our children display compassion learned through circumstances that ask them to miss out on so many things by no fault of their own. Every time they offer me one of their little hands so they can help me up the stairs or care for me in concern, I have hope. They have compassion learned by trials. They don’t get to do many of the things other kids their age do like play summer T-ball or take swimming lessons. Our abnormal circumstances don’t always allow normality. I make myself sick thinking about what disease takes from everyone in this family. I feel like the little part of their childhood taken away will be the big things when they get older so I hope we offer them other beautiful memories in return. Right now, it’s that quiet time of night when they are asleep and I am awake to think of these things. I think about the smiles on their faces. I think about how much love they have for me regardless of how I feel about myself, or still, how others feel about me. They see me at my worst and still love me and I them. I realize I have much to look forward to tomorrow.

***Look for hope, even of you have to make yourself. Wake up and make the best of the day, even if you require help to do it. This doesn’t mean trying to do things beyond your capabilities, it means trying to smile or laugh, even of you have to spend the day in bed. Love to the fullest of extent, even when you feel like you have nothing left to give. You aren’t guaranteed a long life, you’re not even guaranteed a fair life. Take it from someone who knows how unfair life can be, good things are not promised and someday, the end may seem closer than it has ever felt before. Take time to cry when needed. Don’t expect to feel great about every person or thing that comes into your life. Sometimes you have to work at what’s important and let go of the rest. Most importantly, find what makes today beautiful, I bet it’s closer than you think.***

*d*

Where is Your Worth?

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Today my oldest son was sent home sick from school. I knew it was going to happen. I had seen other moms post photos of their kids next to trash cans or their status updates would warn others to stay away from the plague upon their homes. All I could do was wait for those germs to make their way through the school halls and come through my front door. Today the plague arrived.

Illnesses are treated much differently in our home. We are careful to separate sick children from the well ones and clean thoroughly, but we also try our best to keep them from coming in our home in the first place. With a chronically ill child on a chemotherapy drug and a mom who has an auto-immune disease, every illness has to be treated as if it has the potential to send us to the hospital. My ritual of telling the germs they are not welcome comes via a seasonal social media update, it reads something like this, “With cold and flu season upon us, we ask that you stay away from our family if you have been sick or have been around anyone who has been sick. Please make sure you are completely free of illness before visiting our home.” It’s simple and to the point but there is always more I could add like, “We ask you refrain from our home during flu season. We are more susceptible to getting the flu, but your small flu could send those in this home with chronic illness(s) and/or autoimmune disorders to the hosptial. Your flu could be devistating to our health.” I don’t want to come off as too pessimistic but illnesses pose a higher risk for those who are already chronically ill. I take quite a bit of medication to try to build up whatever immune system I have so I can care for sick kids when the plague does arrive, but it doesn’t always work. I sometimes succumb to illnesses and I need help.

These days asking for help is increasingly hard. I was scrolling through Facebook and someone had posted a quote that read something like this, “My greatest accomplishment in life is knowing I never depended on or was a burden to anyone else…..” I read it, made a face, read it again, and mumbled something under my breath. This quote may indicate that the author is a go-getter, someone who is independent and self-reliant. Those observations could very well be true, but the statement tells the world that there should be some great pride in not being a burden to others; so much so that this quote was paired with a beautiful photo, nice enough to hang on a wall if someone so desired. What I mumbled under my breath was this, “So what if something happened to this author and he had no choice but to rely on someone else? What about those who have no choice but to rely on someone else??…..” What did this “inspirational” quote say about those who need the daily help of others? Reliance = burden?

This quote could very well be an excellent life goal for an independent person but to someone like me who increasingly relies on the help of others, it makes me feel a bit…….worthless. I can no longer proudly proclaim how I care for myself and my family with complete independence. Until my disease is better controlled, I frequently need the assistance of loved ones. I can’t even walk long distances without the assistance of a rollator! (Yes, I am the one behind the pink and sparkly rollator.) So I have felt like my life has been on hold since my diagnoses, but does that mean I’m worthless?

I have spent many evenings cuddling a tissue box because I was crying over my feelings of worthlessness. I can’t escape the fact that I have times when I need extensive help from my husband because my RA is so severe. I still look for “good days” when my pain is minimal and I am able to leave the house or do a little of what I was able to do with ease not that long ago. It’s hard to live in a society of people who value what you can do more than who you are. Sometimes it is hard to find meaning when it’s hard to fulfill a purpose my body physically couldn’t possibly fulfill.

Then one morning after reading our morning devotional, many things came into focus. My faith teaches that we are created to be loved by a God, a God who finds pleasure in our love for Him. That same morning I looked at my special needs son after our reading and said, “Your purpose in life is to love and be loved! And we love you so much!” It was then when my light bulb went off. My purpose and meaning really isn’t measured by what I can do or how I can do it, in fact, it’s not meant to be measurable at all.

My little boy may never be able to fully understand many things in life. He has limited expressive communication skills but that doesn’t mean he can fulfill the purpose we were are created to fill, to be loved. If the only thing my son ever accomplishes in his life is to be loved, it’s a pretty sweet accomplishment. No one knows the course of our lives and those who are the goal oriented, go-getters may someday find themselves relying on others to accomplish those tasks that were simple for them not that long ago. That does not mean those people have lost their worth because of it. No, their value was and will always be the same. They are valued and loved for who they are.

Don’t get me wrong, working hard and accomplishing dreams are great but there are those who are struggling to find value because we live in a society hung up on what we do more than who we are. All the valuables in the world mean nothing to someone with an empty heart. You are meant to be loved. You are loved and made for a purpose, and that purpose isn’t measurable by things of this Earth. We may not all have equal valuables but we are all of equal value. Once I realized this, I have spent less time cozy-ing up to the box of tissues. I realized that my life can be spent in love and service to others and to a God who delights in my life.

*d*