Keeping Green by Recycling My Posts

This one is an oldie, but thought I'd bring it back for my newer blog followers. Classic Ellie. And, since she hasn't gotten a lot of air time lately...

New Year, Carrots and Good Eye-sight

My New Year's Eve in Philadelphia? Oh. I was just laying in my bed, watching the Penn's Landing fireworks out my window and relaxing to the sound of gun shots a block away. Of course, I only assumed that what I was hearing was gun shots until I heard the news this morning that there were multiple arrests made for illegal use of hand guns, as well as news of several critically injured from stray bullets! I guess my first question is always: How then should I live? In light of guns being fired in celebration in my neighborhood, how am I as a follower of Jesus Christ with little children supposed to live?

It reminds me of an Ellie story...

This time last year, Ellie, Atticus (my 3 year old) and I were on our way down Girard Avenue on the coldest day of the winter. We were stopped at a red light. Up ahead, I noticed a woman walking toward us down the sidewalk. Now, because I was talking on my cell phone, my brain was slow to compute. This was no ordinary woman, but an obese woman without a stitch of clothing. My thoughts slowing disengaged from my conversation to this surreal sight. This naked woman looked like she was out for a Sunday stroll. "What in the world??" I said out loud.

Ellie, on-point as always, quickly sits up to get a look out the front window. "Ellie, cover your eyes!" She immediately obeyed. (Hmm.)

I then watch as a police cruiser slowly pulls up to the sidewalk and an officer gets out. He approaches the woman with one arm behind her back, gently shepherding her into his vehicle. She gets in and they drive away. The light turned green and it was my turn to go.

I look in the review window and note that Ellie is still covering her face with her hands. I tell her its okay to look. I asked her if she saw anything. She answers, "That police man?" I sighed in relief. She didn't see anything. But, I decided to double-check. "Did you see what that police man was doing, Ellie?"

You mean, putting that naked woman in his car?

Nothing gets by this girl. So, I then launch into a discussion about why on earth that woman, on the coldest day of the year, was walking down Girard in absolutely no clothes. However, Ellie, true to form, had to disagree with me on those details.Mom, she was not totally naked. She had panties on. I reassured her that she was entirely nude.

Again, I am called to ask the question: How then should I live? WWJD?? Even though I felt pretty much alone in my struggles, I prayed for wisdom and began to connect the sight we had just witnessed to our most recent family devotional. "Ellie, do you remember when we talked about how Adam and Eve disobeyed God and then, from that point on, sin and yuckiness entered the world? Well, that woman is not supposed to be cold and naked walking down the street. It makes God sad. We don't know why she is alone without any clothes, but we do know that God does not want that for that woman. She is made in his image and he wants only good things for her. And, one day, He will heal the world so that will never happen again. Do you understand?"

Yes, Mama. But if she was naked, what was that black stuff in her bottom?

Ellie, WHAT were you doing looking that closely at her bottom??

I eat carrots, babe.

Wisdom from a Saudi Student

I opened my work email this morning and found this beautifully wise words of comfort from one of my 18 year-old Saudi students. I am sharing it with you in the hopes that you will find his wisdom applicable for your situation today. Truth is global.

hi Sarah, today you reminded me of my little brother.. when you told us about  your son sick..  because before I left Saudi Arabia for America my brother a few of his face burned by acid, our maid put it on his face. The police take her to prison ,, but my brother needed plastic surgery and he did it but he is still under treatment.  

The most important thing I learned of that case is (((don’t be sad!))) never ever. In fact when I was seeing my brother I was sad and sometimes I was crying but with time I thought why did I do that? I lose my happy and my life but nothing change.. today I believe that ((we can’t change the life , but we can change ourselves)) whatever happen we must learn how can we settle it without sad.. our sad don’t change anything .. do your best and leave the rest to the god  

Sarah, don’t lose your smile because you have beautiful smile (without courtesy) I’ll pray for him and I believe everything well getting better when we close to the god   I’m sorry about my grammar and my writing but I was writing my feeling  please let me know when his case getting better Sincerely Messo

I love that I get the privilege to know these students from the other side of the world. To see more about the program I coordinate at Vanderbilt, click on the link below.  

www.vanderbilt.edu/elc/FoundationProgram

Remember the Ouzel

Look deep into nature, and then you will understand everything better. - Albert Einstein.

This torrent you are facing

It's smaller than hers.

And she, she is smaller than you.

And still, she flies in.

The current is fierce

The gorges are dark

The spray beats angry against her back

And still, she flies in.

She is only given sticks and air.

Alone she walks submerged

Hearing only threatening waters.

And still, she flies in.

She knows there is life there.

She knew this before she hatched.

She sings her water-songs

She sings and flies in.

The Ouzel alone of all birds, dares to enter a white torrent. -John Muir

Forced Lent

Lent is generally a season where you give up something comforting in order to get the real comfort given by the death and resurrection of Christ. Not coming from a very orthodox variety of Christianity, I never gave up anything for Lent. However, in the past few years, I have decided to give it a go and give up things like TV, potato chips (my most serious self-deprivation to date), and Facebook. Now looking back, I don't exactly remember that I found any huge jewels at the end of that scavenger hunt, at least nothing more than any other mild pursuit of God that I have ventured before.

Just a few moments ago, however, it just dawned on me (after listening to some podcasts about lent and wilderness for my creative writing group) that, this year, God has chosen my Lenten sacrifice for me. No, I don't think God has snatched away something of value from me in order to teach me a lesson, but, I do believe that since life is a journey of suffering, He is able to magnify the times of pointed wilderness-wandering and remind us of the beauty in suffering and what is on the other side. In times of intense pain, whether self-inflicted or simply the result of the brokenness of life, the promise that God will show up feels all the more poignant.

As we await the diagnosis of the cause of our son's hallucinations (so far we have a possible diagnosis of epilepsy caused by either a malformation or a tumor in his brain), I feel the intense dryness of the unknown, the hopeless futility of walking in circles and the panic of being left alone. But, I think I can handle all of this if, along this wild and painful path, I also get a glimpse of God's back — a brief moment when the light comes on and I see Beauty so much clearer because it has been cast so closely next to Darkness. The promise that God draws us into the wilderness in order whisper his unfailing love to us is a comfort, and I even dare to say, an appealing proposition.

Though I know this is not the Lent I would have chosen for myself or my family, I trust in the God who tasted the full suffering of this life, drank from the cup of death and overcame. Of course, I am looking forward to that last part the most.

God versus the Spiders

Atticus is still seeing things. Since our initial hypothesis (my overdosing of my baby) has for the most part been proven false, we are in the throws of trying to figure out what is causing the hallucinations. Our current hypothesis is that his asthma/allergy medication, Singulair, is the culprit, or possibly the combo of Singulair and Zyrtec. His last dosage was last Thursday night and we are hoping the medicine will be completely out of his body within a week. He slept through the night last night with no visits by spiders (Thank you, Jesus.). Though, this morning he abruptly stopped watching a cartoon to sit at the kitchen table to finish his cereal. I did not ask about it, but assume the spinning-light-thingys that he is seeing were bothering him again.

Friday night, he experienced three terror-stricken hours of hallucinating spiders slowly crawly toward him. His eyes, locked wide onto these invisible terrors, caused physical pain in my chest as Dave and I held him and whispered urgent truth to him. "Those aren't real. The medicine is playing tricks on your eyes. They cannot hurt you. You are safe." After several minutes of battling these lying apparitions, we were able to convince Atticus to close his eyes and tell us about all the things he is thankful for. His list was long. His ability to move so quickly from a place of darkness to his love for skateboarding and his thankfulness for all his friends was remarkable.

All of that was extremely painful to watch, but the worst was hearing him recount his "unanswered" prayer. "Mom, I asked God to make it stop. Why didn't he answer me?" This is the cry of every person who lives and yet hearing my child's plea for mercy sliced my heart. How many times just this year have I wondered the same thing. Where are you God and why aren't you making this better?

And yet, seeing this play out in the 5 year-old-version has helped me see the answer a bit clearer. Why didn't the hallucinations stop when Atticus prayed for help? If it is true that the medicine is effecting his body this way, he will continue to have them until his body has been detoxified. That is just the reality of our broken bodies and a broken medical system. There is suffering in the world. Does this alone mean that God is being apathetic to our pain, because he does not relieve it? Where was God while Atticus was suffering? I believe he was with me and Dave, broken-hearted watching him and moving toward him to ease it. God was present in the love we had to offer Atticus, the wisdom Dave had in giving clear direction to Atticus (Close your eyes. Listen to us), the relief he brings every morning when the sun comes up. The sun made the spiders go away and I know who commands the sun.

How painful and exhausting it is to see your children suffer. Even more painful is watching them work out their faith. I know this will be a life long journey for him. I can speak in, but I am not in control. I want him to believe, to trust in God's love for him, but I also want God to make it easier for him. I see my own wrestling while I watch my five year old wrestle. I want to believe that when I call, he will answer.

From the safety of my bed and a well-timed Xanax

Lately, I have been struggling with panic attacks. It's a new thing for me, considering I have always seen myself as a rather care-free person, not prone to anxiety. I am generally less cautious than most. I love a good adventure. I don't wash my hands often. I sit on public toilet seats. I am a risk taker at-large.

Last night, however, the risk I took was accidental and at the expense of my five year old son: I overdosed him on allergy medication. We are fairly certain that is what happened as the evidence piles up against me. Atticus spent the entire night awake hallucinating spinning spiders. We initially thought he was having a nightmare. He seemed relatively lucid, but after an hour of paranoid shifty eyes, we began to worry. Dave ended up sleeping on the couch with him, though he never really slept. He sat in a chair shooting looks around the room with dialated eyes, talking of invisible spiders that don't hurt you but are everywhere, especially in beds.

Oh God, I am a horrible mother.

Not only did I inadvertantly (I must add that adverb to continue to ease my guilt) O.D. my son, I had a panic attack while trying to care for him. I think it was when he asked me, "What is time?" that triggered me. My feet started to sweat, cold waves attached themselves to my limbs and my ears started buzzing. I slowly set Atticus on the floor and hastily grabbed a half of a Xanax. Though I have only taken one once before and I am trying to implement self-talk in times of panic, I was certain I needed one immediately.

Atticus begged to go to school, presumably to escape the potential spiders of his drug-induced wig out. After a quick call to our family nurse, we feel comforted that he does not need immediate medical attention (though, feel free to give your take on what to do if you are a trained professional). He seemed like his paranoia was lessening as he ate his pancakes and talked of giving his teacher a picture of a catfish he drew between 1 and 4am.

My husband's role in life continues to be affirmed as the pyschological care-giver of our little roving band of schizos. As he left for work, he leaned over the bed, kissed me and left me with one last bit of comfort: "I hope you feel better. Atticus is going to be fine and I only judge you a little." What more could a girl ask for, really?

Snackeriffic!

I have a weird appetite. I can't eat breakfast, but when I do, it's usually cold spaghetti. I crave salted meats. I love chips and dip. Fried foods? Yes, Ma'am! But, I also love veggies. I get in these cycles of cravings. For one month, I'll eat the same thing everyday for lunch, like a spinach salad with Goddess dressing. My current craving is FAGE, the greek style yogurt. OMG. It's snackeriffic. I drizzle honey on top. Law, its delish. I get it at Trader Joe's, but I have also bought it at the Not-So-Dirty-Now Kroger in Franklin on Hillsboro Road. They even had the kind that was pre-mixed with honey. Oh my, that was nice. Actually, I must thank Anna Hyatt Nicolades for the introduction. Maybe she felt an ethnic duty to promote the product since she married a Greek man. Whatever her motives, I thank her. It's been my lunch for the past two months. I don't know how long this will last though, cause my work bag is all sticky from carrying around my honey bear.

Panic Attacks: A Counseling Case Study (Part 1) | CCEF

Panic Attacks: A Counseling Case Study (Part 1) | CCEF

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Dave and I listened to this podcast the other night. Really engaging. I absolutely adore David Powilson and wish he were my grandpa. I took a course from him at Westminster. He really is as kind as he sounds.

Being in counseling this year with a therapist who uses a different model than the "Three Trees" has been a real lesson in learning how to integrate things I already know or have been exposed to with new paradigms. It has sent my brain reeling more than once, but I think its a beneficial experience for me.

Hope you enjoy the podcast...its about 30 minutes long.

Hope for Sociopaths

What if my daughter is a sociopath? After watching last week's episode of House, entitled Remorse, that question peek-a-boo'd it's head right out from behind my laptop and scared the begeezus out of me. In the episode, House's team of diagnostic doctors were baffled by a patient's symptoms. Per the requirement of the formula of all episodes, the patient gets a lot worse before getting better. However, what interests House the most is not the puzzle of the her symptoms, but her apparent lack of emotion. Acccording to a brain scan, the woman proves to be entirely lacking in any conscience, empathy or love.

House is drawn to the woman and questions her. She sees right through his questioning and aims the arrow with accuracy directly at his jugular. "So, if you know your conscience is just an animal instinct, then you know you don't need to follow it. That's why you are talking to me." This is House's fear. What if I am so completely self-interested that I never choose what is best for others, only myself? Or worse. What if I am without a conscience completely? What if I am a sociopath?

Lucky for me, I have other close people in my life I can be critical of. Instead of examining my own lack of interest in others' feelings, I have a perfectly self-absorbed creature I can analyze, right here in my own home. She is 9 years old and I will leave out her name to protect the innocent. She scares me with her lack of empathy.

I immediately started flipping through my files of memories, trying to find evidence that she indeed has a conscience. Like House, there was very little proof in my files. Before completely panicking though, I remembered that I have a recent theory. We are all on the disorder continuum.

My Disorder Continuum Theory is as follows: Due to the fall and our inherent brokenness, we are all suffering from mental disorders, to some degree or another. Though I have not, nor has Ellie (yet), been diagnosed with Sociopathic Personality Disorder, we all suffer from at least a small form of it. To support my theory, lets ask this question: Who has NOT exhibited antisocial behavior or behavior that would suggest a lack of conscience? Or better yet: Who has ALWAYS considered the needs of others before their own needs?

How is my theory helpful, you might ask. The way I see it, if we are all suffering from some sort of mental illness, we shouldn't be surprised if evidence of one or several show up (like depression, anxiety, etc.). However, we should expect some. And, like Dr. House, the most important quest, needs to be finding the hope of redemption and change. Nothing is incurable. Not for House nor for God, anyway.

God, in his continued presence in our lives, works and is working (and has completed his work) for this healing. The most reassuring truth I cling to these days is this: God does not want me (or Ellie) to have a mental illness. And though I may experience panic attacks and depression or have a child who is cruel to her BFF and ruins said BFF's birthday, we have a God who is working to restore to us all our sanity. Our stories are not finished. We have hope because we have a Healer. We are being changed. We are being made sain and true sanity is the ability to receive love and give love without restraint.

By the end of the episode, Gregory House and his sociopathic patient both experience the evidence of change. For House and for us, there is no disorder, no disease, no brokenness that is without a cure. And, for a Monday morning, that is some really relieving news.

An Uncertain Guide to the Ancient Voices

I could be your guide.

Where are we going, you ask?

To Jacob’s Ladder.

We will climb down to where the Ancient Voices speak.

Have I been there?

Oh, no.

Well, maybe.

I’m still not certain.

But, I know you must go under.

Enter at your own risk, though.

We have to swim to get there.

Me?

No, I’m still learning to float.

I hold my breath, let go and lean back.

But, here, in these waters, you have to breathe.

Slowly, under your ribs.

There you go! You got it!

In and out.

If you forget to breathe?

No problem.

There’s a built in safety-feature.

Scary?

Oh, hell yes!

All those ropes that tie you down?

Keeping you from floating away?

From losing yourself?

They don’t work in these waters.

You could get lost in here.

There are many voices.

But, you can listen to mine at first.

And if you lose your way?

There’s always a Voice to guide you home.

How fast?

Hmmm. I don’t know.

It might take awhile.

But you're strong, you’ll make it.

I could be wrong, but its like whiskey, I think.

Like a magical brew that slows your thoughts,

clouds your mind, and then amplifies the Others.

At first, they might rattle, like old men’s breathing.

They might just ask you a lot of questions.

They may try to reason with you.

Most likely, they are angry.

They are tired and hungry from wailing so long.

They may all come at once.

They will drag you out to deeper waters,

Where your feet can’t touch.

Where the Great Mystery will cut your skin like ice water,

And clench your throat.

Your chest will get tight.

Now, don’t forget to breath.

And then, the voices will pull you under.

They do not look for revenge,

but only for the truth of things.

And these voices will lead you to Those Voices.

But, its time to leave.

We’ve been wrapped in our cocoon of clanging symbols long enough.

Search the skies.

It’s a sign.

There’s nothing left here.

Only fleeting platitudes and a grating cadence.

Wait, Another Way?

No, I don’t think so.

The path we’ve already tried?

No, it doesn’t lead there, remember?

We bought that whole load once.

We just kept walking and walking and walking,

but we never even heard

a Whisper.

Come on, now. Let’s go.

The Ancient Voices are speaking.

Where they have always been speaking.

You will recognize them. You heard them once before.

Before you were born.

Are you ready?

One. Two. Three…

image: Between Two Waves, Makoto Fujimura