About Being "Real"

Two and a half years into our youngest son’s journey with metastatic bone cancer, I am finally beginning to sort out its effects on me as Isaac’s mother. To be transparent about what I’ve discovered means making myself acutely vulnerable, both to self-focus and the judgements of others. I’ve decided that, since what I’m writing is more about Who God is than about me, the risks are worth taking.

It often happens that my biggest revelations, my biggest changes of mind, begin with the remarks of others. A friend will say something seemingly straightforward or insignificant, but the words will niggle at me until I take them to my Heavenly Father to sort them out. I’ve been poring over and trying to understand my responses to two recent comments, both from dear friends. 

                                           “You can be real with us.”

                                                             and

                   “Just know that you don’t have to be spiritual all the time.”

My friends had good motives. I know that they wanted to give me the freedom to be myself without the burden of hiding my emotions behind a brave face. I know that they are concerned about my distress as a mother whose child’s life is being threatened, and they want to help me to bear it. They don’t want me to “go it alone,” and I am grateful.

In spite of that, something about those comments disturbed me. It has taken me awhile to discern just what, and longer still to put it into words. 

First I had to acknowledge the criticism implied in both, and the truth in that criticism. The first statement implies that I don’t come across as being completely honest. It’s true that I don’t often express the depths of what I feel. In my defense I am rarely in a setting where that would be appropriate. I also admit that I shield people from my pain. Just hearing that we have a child with stage IV cancer shocks and hurts, so I often don’t let people who aren’t particularly close to us know. I’m also reticent to “unload” on intimate friends.

To remedy that, and to answer all the kind people who have asked, "How are you, really?" here is the “state of Kate:”

Sometimes my heart hurts so badly that I can hardly catch my breath. 

Sometimes I am so happy that I wonder how I could ever be sad or angry or stressed again.

I have been through all the stages of grief, and will again... and again, I am sure.

There are times it feels like everyone needs me, but there’s hardly any of me left.

I have a constant battle with my escapist tendencies. 

I am often oversensitive. “Raw,” is how one friend aptly described it. Small unkindnesses, usual daily stresses, and friction in relationships (even those I’m not a part of!) can hurt me like salt on a skinned knee. I am constantly having to put things back into proper perspective, and I’m thankful for friends and especially my husband who help me to do that.

I've always been a bit of an air-head, and now that fault has ballooned to critical proportions. I am forgetful, confused and unreliable. I know that it is a symptom of prolonged stress, but I find it hard to give myself grace, especially when I inconvenience others. It’s a blow to my pride as well, but that’s not all bad.

There are times when I cannot collect my thoughts, which is frightening. I can't even process well enough to panic. I am learning to stop, find a quiet place, and affirm that while it’s true that I can’t, God can, and to wait - as patiently as possible - for Him to lay a straight path in the midst of my confusion.

The second statement, “Just know that you don’t have to be spiritual all the time,” implies that I am hiding behind spiritual platitudes, or at least that there is a non-spiritual state and I should spend some time there. Are there other options to being "spiritual" for a blood-bought¹ child of God?

I was mulling this over a few weeks ago as I restored the felt padding on the runners of our rocking chair. The past often sheds light on the present for me, so I was not surprised that as I relived my history with the old chair I found an answer to my question. 

I was a severe asthmatic growing up. I would frequently wake my parents up in the middle of the night and let them know I was in trouble. It’s funny. I remember being afraid of the dark, but I never turned any lights on when I went to them; I went straight through the gloom to their bedside. In the early 60’s treatment consisted of a shot of epinephrine, usually by my father… and then the rocking chair in an effort to calm a hyped-up child enough for sleep. I can only imagine how exhausted my daddy must have been, rocking a chatty four year-old on adrenaline in the dark. What I remember is the soothing comfort of the rocking, the creaking of the cane back and seat, my father's steady heartbeat in contrast to my own frantic rhythm, and his strong, warm shoulder.

What if that little girl, struggling for breath, had had no where to go? I am still that little girl. If I weren’t constantly aware that the Most High has condescended to call me His child, and gone so far as to give me the privilege of calling Him “Abba” ("Daddy"),² I could never bear the suffering of my own child. If I did not know, and remind myself often, that He is in complete control, and that He will not ask me to endure any difficulty that will not pale in comparison to the wonders He will bring out of it,³ I would be crushed. If I did not know that He is far more than able to heal Isaac instantly⁴, I would have no hope. Oh, my friends, I DO have to be “spiritual” all the time, for I would die without the Truth. His word is Truth.

As it is, by means of His Truth, I have a perspective of this journey that keeps it from being overwhelming, that shrinks it to its proper size.⁵

I have the ability to recognize spiritual warfare (though sometimes I’m a bit slow). Satan is ruthless. Believers whose children are in crisis are tempting targets; he delights in kicking us while we’re down.⁶

I have real hope. My Heavenly Father will do as I have asked: whatever brings Him the most glory.⁷

I have joy that is not shadowed by my grief, like silver that can’t be tarnished. It’s a paradox, but I do not grieve as the world grieves.⁸

I have purpose. There is a glorious reason for everything God allows in our lives.⁹ I would not change anything He’s given us, no matter how heartbreaking, no matter how hard. 

I am not alone, ever, no matter how alone I may feel.¹⁰

I have all I need. When my self runs out, as often happens, He is there to make up any lack.¹¹

I am cared for. Even when it seems that I need to care for everyone, and no one is caring for me.¹²

I can recognize the good gifts He sends to comfort me and remind me of His love. It is no mistake when little Whitefoot, the fawn with four white pasterns, comes to the back pasture just when I’m moving the horses, or when a friend makes us Cambodian food, or when we all laugh until we cry.¹³

And so I can’t do other than trust Him completely. 

                                    Sometimes with grim determination, 
                                “Though He slay me, yet will I trust Him.”¹⁴

                                          Sometimes in desperation,
                                    “Lord, I believe! Help my unbelief!”¹⁵ 

                                        And often in joyful abandon,
                       “I will exult in the Lord, I will rejoice in the God of my

                        salvation. The Lord God is my strength, and He has  

                         made my feet like hind’s feet, and makes me walk    

                                            on my high places.”¹⁶ 

“Daddy? Daddy… I can’t breathe!” whispered in the dark, is as real as it gets. 

---

1 “Therefore remember… that you were at that time separate from Christ… having no hope and without God in the world. But now in Christ Jesus you who were far off have been brought near by the blood of Christ.” Ephesians 2:11-13 ^↩
2 “And because you are sons, God has sent forth the Spirit of His Son into our hearts, crying, ‘Abba! Father!” Galatians 4:6 ^↩
3 “For I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worthy to be compared with the glory to be revealed to us.” Romans 8:18 ^↩
4 “See now that I, even I, am He, and there is no god with me: I kill, and I make alive; I wound, and I heal; And there is none that can deliver out of My hand.” Deuteronomy 32:39 ^↩
5 “…while we look not at the things which are seen, but at the things which are not seen; for the things which are seen are temporal, but the things which are not seen are eternal.” 2 Corinthians 4:18 ^↩
6 “…Be on the alert. Your adversary, the devil, prowls about like a roaring lion, seeking someone to devour.” 1 Peter 5:8 ^↩
7 “ And this is the confidence that we have before Him, that, if we ask anything according to His will, He hears us.” 1 John 5:14 ^↩
8 “…though you have not seen Him, you love Him, and though you do not see Him now, but believe in Him, you greatly rejoice with joy unspeakable and full of glory…” 1 Peter 1:8 See also 1Thessalonians 4:13 ^↩
9 “ And we know that God causes all things to work together for good to those who love God, to those who are called according to His purpose.” Romans 8:28 ^↩
10 “…for He Himself has said, ‘I will never desert you, nor will I ever forsake you’ “ Hebrews 13:5 ^↩
11 “And He has said to me, ‘My grace is sufficient for you, for power is perfected in weakness.’ Most gladly, therefore, I will rather boast about my weaknesses, that the power of Christ may dwell in me.” 2 Corinthians 12:9 ^↩
12 “Humble yourselves, therefore, under the mighty hand of God… casting all your anxiety upon Him, for He cares for you.” 1 Peter 5:6 ^↩
13 “Every good thing bestowed and every perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of lights…” James 1:17 ^↩
14 Job 13:15 ^↩
15 Mark 9:24 ^↩
16 Habbakuk 3:18-19 ^↩

Running in the Rain, Part II

As I think of the effects of learning to run in the rain, I see a pile of 10 year-old boy clothes unceremoniously dumped on the green painted wood of our porch. After weeks of oppressive heat and dry weather, we were enjoying a lovely, soaking rain. Isaac had asked, "Mama, can I play in the rain?!" That's how I ended up with a heap of boy clothes with no boy in them...

It seems like such a minor thing, but having my mind changed about rain has changed me fundamentally. For one thing, I have a lot more freedom. The rain doesn't keep me from my run, so neither does the threat of rain. That's a lot more running! I've had a conventional view challenged and changed, which makes me more likely not to avoid examining other conventions in the future. I've also been freed from the ungratefulness and the blindness that comes with it. Beautiful rain!

Running in the rain gives me a different view of things. The woods and fields our road runs through, as well as their sounds, smells, and wildlife, are all different in the rain. I'm so glad I haven't missed out on that. My life is richer. It's as though I'm more alive than I would be without being out in the midst of a Kentucky rain shower. It gives me something to grow on.

My relationship with the Word of God is a lot like that, and so much more. It leads me to freedom - freedom from empty convention, from self, from sin, from ungratefulness. It is TRUTH, and "the truth shall make you free." John 8:32

And talk about a different perspective! God's thoughts are far above ours, yet he has set some down in a book and enlivened it with the power of the Holy Spirit to give us a means of transformation. How desperately and how often I need my perspective changed from mere human perception to God's Truth! My life is greatly enriched. This is the "Word of Life," without which I would be dead indeed. It is the fuel for my continued growth, satisfying nourishment just for me from my Father.

Sometimes my time with the Bible is like a splash in my sleepy face, sometimes it's just a sprinkle, sometimes a decided shower, and every once in a while a positive deluge. It always has its effect, though. Freedom, perspective, life, food for growth... and something to pass on as well.

How do you pass on a delight in and a hunger for the Word of God? Well, in a family that's not hard. It seems that every single day life furnishes the opportunity and the need to search it out and apply it. Parents who are soaking up the Truth themselves will find that it just oozes out "when you sit in your house, when you walk by the way, when you lie down, and when you rise up." Deuteronomy 6:7 There are purposeful times of study and sharing, too - family devotions, corporate worship and feeding on the Truth, etc. And if you are blessed as we have been, other believers will invest in your children's lives, pointing them to God's Word yet again.

It's getting harder and harder to watch our children leave our home. This year will be the first that the majority are gone. A diminishing family circle brings its own unique heartache. There is a special joy, though, in knowing that they are established in the Truth, and in watching them apply that Truth and trust in their Heavenly Father alone to guide them. Hearts so focused will not go far wrong, though they may be far from us.

A first rain frolic in Cambodia after the six month dry season. Even the downpour wasn't enough for their exuberance, so they asked for the reservoir hose too...

The effects of "running in the rain" of God's word? Freedom, perspective, life, food to grow on and a trust to pass on... children who run in the rain, too, shared life, shared growth, and then, a few belongings left when they go off to run on their own - with joy.

Running in the Rain, Part I

I am sitting down at the computer with wet hair, my exercise clothes are in the washer, my running shoes are upside down in the mudroom, and my jacket and hat are dripping on the porch. Why? I just got back from running in the rain. Most people get caught in the rain. I revel in it. I haven't always been this crazy, though. Jesus had to change my mind.

The first big mental readjustment came while we were up the Amazon River in the little town of Santo Antonio do Iça, Brazil. There was a little mission hospital there, Barry was a medical student, and we were there in search of what God had to say to us about medical missions.We had only been married a year, and I was a bone-lazy, self-centered baby Christian.

The men were going on a trip upriver to visit a couple villages. They would walk down to the river, and the doctor's daughter, Elizabeth, and I were to take their few supplies down by bicycle. Miss Bone-lazy here surprised herself by enjoying the bike ride. It was extremely hot and humid, but the wind was in our faces and we were having fun. Once we stopped at the river side, though, the heat and humidity seemed to press us down into the hot mud. The weight of water in the air seemed hardly less than the weight of dark water in the massive river sliding by the muddy banks below us. We gave the men their supplies and waved them off as their long, flat boat eased away from the shore. I could hardly wait to get back on that bike and into the wind again!

Dripping with sweat, Elizabeth and I mounted our bikes and headed home. We were both thinking of showers. During our brief stop at the landing huge clouds had gathered and now were looming large and black over our heads. We were in for a tropical downpour. I can't remember now who was the first to yell, "Race you home!" but we were both laughing and pedaling as hard as we could when it struck me. I took my feet off the pedals and let my legs hang. "What are we doing?" I asked. "We are trying to outrun the rain so we can go home and take a shower??" We ended up going as slowly as we could, hoping the rain would overtake us. It did. I still remember it as one of the most delicious things I've ever felt. Wonderful, wonderful rain! I've never looked at rain in quite the same way since.

So this morning, while my eyes were still closed and my ears were just recognizing the sound of rain, I immediately jumped up with the full realization of how wonderful a run in the rain would be, right? Uh... no. While I no longer belong to the "bone-lazy" category, thanks be to God alone, Miss Bone-lazy still rears her ugly head in my flesh. My flesh was trained for years to be bone-lazy. And while God has transformed me by changing my mind, I still have skirmishes with her way of thinking. It went something like this this morning:

"Oh, it's raining. How nice... Mmm, and it's Monday, I'm supposed to run."
"Well, I didn't sleep well, it would probably be wiser to rest. And all my gear will get wet. It takes a long time to dry out running shoes. Maybe I could do some other exercise inside later..."
"But one of the reasons I exercise is because it helps my sleep. I always end up wishing I had done it when I skip. 'Later' never comes, and I hate that feeling of regret."
"Maybe I should just sleep in a little longer, then go."
"But it's a privilege to be able to go out and run at all. Remember that awful C. difficile infection in the spring, I sometimes wondered if I'd ever get to run again."
"My back could get worse if I got chilled."
"I'll wear my jacket."
"Everything will get wet."
"It'll dry. Besides, what a glorious rain. Just what we prayed for! How good it must feel to the plants and wildlife, which were languishing in drought just last week."
"I just don't feel like it, though, I'm so tired."
"Who cares what I feel like right now? I am healed, and we are blessed with a delicious, deep-soaking rain. How wonderful, what a sublimely thankful act, what a privilege, to run in the rain! Thank you, thank you, Heavenly Father!!!"

With that thought, I was standing on higher ground with the flesh left far behind. Oh how I enjoyed that run in the rain!

As I ran, it occurred to me that in a way I have been "running in the rain" for a long time. When I came to God years ago, there was so much I needed to learn, so much of me that needed to change. Through the blood of Christ I was a new creature, and as is natural with new life, I was hungry, hungry for the word of God. Wonder of wonders, it satisfied! My Father had given me a craving for the very thing I needed: Himself through His Word. I had found the chief catalyst of our transformation, His vehicle for changing my mind.

God has many names to describe His Word; one of them is water. Jesus sanctifies his bride, the church, "by the washing of water by the Word." (Ephesians 5:25) For thirty years I've been washed and renewed over and over again. For thirty years I've been running in the rain! Even so, my prayer is still for more growth in Him, "Lord, change my mind, please."

Knowing the Word for the delightful, life-giving, renewing thing that it is, I daily jump out of bed and dive into it for an hour or two, right? Would you believe I have the same silly conversation with my flesh described above on a regular basis in this area too? I need more sleep. I'm already behind with the day, I'll do it later. I just don't feel like it. I won't be able to concentrate anyway. My heart's not in it so it would be hypocritical to just read it because I think I should. Blah, blah, blah.


Who cares what I feel like? I am whole and alive because of this Word. It is Truth. It is Jesus, Logos, whose name is the Word of God. How wonderful, what a privilege, what a discipline of freedom and joy, to feed on the Word! Thank you, Heavenly Father!!!!

Yee-haa! Let's go get wet!

Next, in "Running in the Rain, Part II," the effects of running in the rain...

Wild Flowers and Worldly Thinking

Some of my favorite wild flowers are less abundant on the farm this year than last year. Next year they will be sparser still as the job they were designed to do nears fulfillment. They are tireless and ubiquitous little plants, and I'll bet you're wondering what in the world they have to do with "being transformed by the renewing of your mind."

And do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind, that you may prove what is that good and acceptable and perfect will of God.   Romans 12:2

Almost every time I see one of these little beauties, I am reminded of worldly thinking. Worldly thinking comes so easily to us that we rarely see it for what it is. Millions of people hate this little flower and spend thousands of dollars and thousands of man hours to eradicate it. Why? It is a valuable part of any landscape. It is one of the earliest, most reliable sources of spring nectar and pollen for honeybees and other pollinators. It only grows in soil that is depleted of calcium, and its function is to send a taproot deep into the subsoil and bring calcium up to the surface. As its leaves die, their calcium is released into the soil, enriching it and nourishing surrounding plants. Over time the soil becomes rich in calcium, and these wildflowers will no longer grow there. Later, as the soil's calcium is consumed by other plants, the windblown seeds will find that area a suitable spot to sprout and start the cycle again.

What could be bad about such a plant? It has simply run afoul of the world. 


English estates set the tone in the 17th century for a standard symbol of wealth and status - a closely grazed or hand-cut lawn. Attempts were made to copy these elegant lawns in the United States, but English grass didn't do well here, and we didn't have the same damp climate. Not to worry. Golf did make the migration across the ocean, and by the early 1900's one thousand golf clubs began funding USDA research for grass seed that would yield an immaculate lawn. It didn't take long for turf to become a major industry. The American Garden Club joined in the push to create a market by starting a campaign through contests for the best looking yards according to the golf club standard: "a plot with a single type of grass with no intruding weeds, kept mown at a height of an inch and a half, uniformly green and neatly edged." Now the old English lawn was on it's way to being viewed as an American civic duty. American yards that had been packed dirt and cottage gardens with a variety of beautiful, useful and edible plants, with grass only used where it could serviceably reduce mud or dust, were now required by social consensus to transition to monoculture, labor intensive, sterile lawns.

The consequences? An acre of lawn costs more to maintain than crops of corn, rice or sugarcane, and yields nothing. Massive expenditures, $30 million dollars a year in the U.S., fund the pesticides, herbicides, fuel, etc. required. Pesticides and herbicides are a serious health risk for anyone, and especially those with suppressed immune function, but we must have that perfect lawn! Irrigation? 200 gallons of water per person, per day. Gas? 800 million gallons of it are sucked up by American lawns each year. And my wildflower? Well, when lawns became the standard, many valuable plants became relegated to the category "weed,"wildflowers included.

How are you feeling about lawns right now? Maybe you're looking at them in a new light. Then again, maybe you're digging in your mental heels and saying, "But I LIKE a nice lawn. It expresses neatness and order and responsibility!" Maybe a shabby lawn is tantamount to anarchy as far as you are concerned.

I'm not asking you to give up your lawn (though giving less of your property over to it, increasing your plantings of more valuable plants, and going with a mixed lawn are certainly good ideas.) I simply hope to show how easily our thinking is formed by the world without our even realizing it. 


Do we need to rethink EVERYTHING? I believe we do. I believe that God commands it in His Word.

And do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind, that you may prove what is that good and acceptable and perfect will of God.

We cannot receive all that God has for us until we allow him to change our minds. Our minds tend to be like lawns, clipped, static, and bound by the limits of our culture. Our God stands ready to transform them into vibrant landscapes. 

The next time you see a dandelion in your yard, I hope you'll see it a little differently than most Americans. A common yellow flower that renews the soil just might help us renew our minds. 


Oh, and if you're imprisoned in a neighborhood that has made outlaws of these small, very beneficial flowers, please don't reach for the poison. You don't even have to suffer through laborious digging (getting that specially designed taproot is a tough job!) Simply sprinkle your lawn with a dusting of gypsum. That will raise the calcium levels of the soil, and our friends won't grow there. Then you can come to the farm and blow dandelion clocks, guilt-free, to your heart's content.

I gleaned the information on the history of lawns from "Edible Estate" an article by Susan M. Osborn, Ph.D., M.S.W. in Countryside magazine, Vol. 93, No. 3, May/June 2009


Photo by Abie White