Meditations On Pain

After the last few years we’ve had, with loss and disappointment piled on top of grief, sadness, shock and lots of spiritual banging our heads against a wall…I’ve been thinking a lot about pain. About what it does in us. About how God uses it and how we respond to it. Here are some of those thoughts:

Pain reveals what is in our hearts. Pain not only squeezes our bodies to their limits, it squeezes our hearts too. And when pressure is applied to our hearts, just like when a tube of toothpaste is squeezed, whatever is on the inside comes squirting out. Bitterness? Optimism? A tendency to hide or deny? Pain numbing behaviors?  A love for others and Jesus? Willingness to endure? A love of easy outs? Self-discipline? Joy? Relational patterns of hiding, using, blaming…or healthy communication and expression of emotion? As Solomon said, our hearts are indeed deep waters. (Pr. 20:5) And what is in there, is complex. It takes an awful lot to get what is hidden in there to show itself. But once we get a glimpse of what it is…then we have a starting point of where Jesus might want to do something in us. And if we are willing to pay attention to what comes out of us during the darkness, and deal with it honestly…well…this has the potential to be a very good thing for us.

Pain is unique to each of us. What hurts me may not hurt you to the same extent. Loss of a job may be a bump in the road for one and the end of the world for another. A three-year old loses a beloved stuffed animal that is her best friend. A wife loses her husband of years to a terrible accident. Both are in pain. It isn’t fair to compare and rank it because it is so unique to each one of us. (Pr. 14:10) Let me clarify – I don’t think all pain is equal. Some pain is definitely more…well…painful. But what I am saying is that I think everyone should be allowed expression of their pain, whatever it is. Each individual has value and each person should be allowed to feel and process their hurt as it is for them, not as someone else thinks it should be. And the rest of us should offer compassion – or a graceful distance so that the person can work their way to recovery.

Pain has a work to do. Nothing opens a heart, revealing what is inside quite like pain. Nothing opens us up to the possibility of change, asking for and accepting help like pain. Nothing opens our hearts to the realization that the truth of a situation might be much different than we’d ever imagined quite like pain. Nothing opens us up to the realization of the pettiness of what occupies so much of our time and affection like pain. (I Pet 4:1) Nothing drives us to the place where we need Jesus and want Him more than anything else like pain. If we don’t run from it, numb it or insist it can’t be God’s will for us, pain has the potential to do something beautiful and deep within us. (Rom. 5:3)

How God views pain and how we view pain is so very different.  It is an amazing experience to take off in a plane when it is overcast and rainy and ascend through and over the precipitation to what is above. Because the topside view of a cloud is so amazingly different than the underside view. I suspect the experience of how we view pain (from down below) and how God views it (from up above) is a similar one to a plane ride. We hurt and think, “Ow! This is so horrible! This can’t be God’s will for me.” Or, “I’ve got to avoid this, ease it, minimize it, deny it or medicate it.” Or, “God, how could you let this happen? If this is Your plan for me, I’ll handle things on my own from here on, thank you very much.” And maybe God sees us experience pain and He sees…the potential it holds…for soul-deep healing, for awakening to spiritual truth, for greater reliance on and intimacy with Himself. Maybe He leans forward a bit, catching His breath, knowing that the potential fruit of pain is eternal, while pain itself is temporary. Maybe He grabs a hold of our hands, speaking to us and granting us greater dose of His presence and love – hoping we will slow down long enough to notice.

We have some say in what we do with our pain. I know that sometimes, our pain is so great or our resources to manage it are so stressed that sometimes, we just react. We don’t really have the option to respond. But sometimes we do. God gives us the dignity to allow us to choose much in our lives. When pain comes, as it does for all of us, we have some choice what we will do in response. We can run. Avoid. Numb. Medicate. Deny. Minimize. Descend into despair. Pretend it isn’t happening or doesn’t matter. Create two lives – one we present to the outside world and the reality we live with in our inner worlds. Blame. Grow bitter. Or. We can let our pain turn our hearts to our Healer. Open us up to relationship with others. Invite us to grow from the inside out and find, with Jesus, we are capable of so much more than we ever thought possible. Show us the depth of His love by meeting us deep in the mess. Our responses can be as varied as we are. But the one constant between us all is the choice – what will we allow our pain to do to us? What will we allow our pain to do in us?

And My Answer Is…(Jesus pt. 77)

Jesus, my answer to you is yes.

To whatever it is you ask, to whatever it is You want. To wherever You lead, even and especially when I don’t know where we are going. Yes to following You through pain and things I would never choose for myself or my most beloved ones. Yes to the loss of choice and how that terrifies me. Yes to a season of darkness if it means I learn to find Your hand in that very darkness.

Yes to following You into places in my heart that cause me to grimace and wince because of their  raw power. Yes to opening up my most private, shameful and personal memories, allowing you to speak to them and change my perception of them. Yes to Your changing my habits and patterns that are so ingrained and hidden, only a serious disruption of “normal” brings them into view. Yes to my paying attention to and cooperating with whatever disruption it takes for you to save me from myself. Yes to letting you pry my hands off of my beloved status quo.

Yes to You loving me enough that sometimes You tell me “no.” Yes to letting You break my heart if it will save me from the damage that some of the things I love do to me. Yes to letting go of things that are less so you can give me more.  Yes to releasing that which has been holding me tighter than I have been holding it.

Yes to walking in to the unknown and to following You down paths where no one can go with me. Yes to a heart sickening loneliness if it teaches me to learn to love and relate to You more authentically and healthily. Yes to Your plans for me, even as it means the death of my dreams for me. Yes to not running from fear of You when You choose to flex Your muscles, to exercise Your sovereignty, to call attention to the fact that I am helpless before You. Yes to laying down my desires and my control tendencies, to opening my hands and being willing for them to stay empty for as long as You want. Because yes, I believe You want to eventually fill them with more than I had before. And Yes to You taking as long as You want to accomplish Your purposes in my life, even as I think I’ll die waiting for You.

Yes to You stripping away my illusions of how I think the world works in exchange for You teaching me the truth of how it actually works. Yes to the grief that comes along with seeing truth for the first time and realizing how long I’ve lived with lies. Yes to following You to places of repentance and an accurate self-view that can be so devastating.

Yes to Your request to physically occupy more space in my heart that I have given away to idols and taken for myself. Yes to not just allowing You to take up space, but to my inviting You in, willingly and wholeheartedly. Yes to learning and re-learning how to love you in a way that actually honors You, rather than in a way that is convenient for me.

Yes to resting in You and to letting You lead. Yes to slowing down even as my heart pushes me to speed up. Yes to letting You be You, even when it is so bewildering, confusing and doubt-inducing. Yes to Your heart for me and yes to trusting You with my heart. Yes to the lifelong process of acknowledging, with my head, mouth and life that You are indeed God and that you are indeed good.

My answer to you is yes. May it always be yes.

I Meant It, Even When I Didn’t Know What It Meant

(Written Friday night in ICU at Jeff’s bedside, after his surgery)

Jeff,

When I said, “For better or worse,”,  ”In sickness and in health,” I meant it. Even when I didn’t know what it meant.

I’m wearing his ring, since he had to take it off for surgery.

On that cold November day in our mid-twenties when I spoke those words…you were so humorously nervous about becoming a husband. Me, so in love and so oblivious to just how hard marriage could be. We were so sure we had it all figured out. The older couples around us must have looked on with a curious mixture of fear for us at our ignorance and joy with us at our enthusiasm. The same way we look at young couples now. Years in together, three kids and many adventures later, we are finally all grown up. Or at least significantly on the way.

And look at where we are tonight. You just out of another surgery to deal with the damage cancer is doing to your guts. Me weeping at your bedside, my guts all knotted up too. Who knew this was coming?

Really, no one knows what their vows mean until they have to keep them. I guess we know something about it now.

I look at you laying in ICU. Again.

I see you sleeping, exhausted and pale, attached to beeping machines with tubes running everywhere. Again.

I feel my heart ache, literally, with a visceral spasm that rolls through me from the inside out. My soul must look like angry waves on the front end of a hurricane. Again.

And I know I will have to do all of this again.

And I will.

Because I love you. Because just like on our wedding day, I am choosing to love you. I didn’t know what it meant then. I sort of have a clue what it means now. And I’m still in. Even though I don’t know what we will both have to do in order to keep our vows. I will try my best to love you with all I’ve got, even as it breaks my heart, even as it leads me to places like this. I will hold your hand and kiss your face and honor you until it is time to hand you off to the One who loves You infinitely more than I do.

And that must be a lot – because after all these years together, I’m learning to love you quite a bit.

You Decide How Much Fun You Have – Davis Family Rule # 5

(I wrote this while sitting in the waiting room as Jeff underwent a seven hour surgery on his abdomen. I had the chance to do a lot of “deciding”. )

The Davis family rules are longstanding testimonies to my personal neuroses and general compulsion for attempting to create order in the universe. Those who know or have spent anytime with us at all have most likely heard us repeat them in some combination over the years. (I won’t disclose them in their entirety here as there are “professionals” who read this blog and I don’t want them to be any more concerned about my “health” than they already are.)

Jeff and I “deciding” to have fun while waiting for his surgery to begin.

They originated when our first two kids were little and I found myself teaching the same lessons over and over. And over. And over. Finally, I decided to quantify those behavior/truths/sayings into what are now the Davis family rules. And on good days, most of the Davis family members can quote them back to you in some form or another.

Davis family rule # 5 says, “You decide how much fun you have.”

This rule isn’t really about “fun” by the way. It is about the decisions we make, about how we view choice in our lives. Let me explain.

I want my kids to know that even in the face of those events/seasons/moments when much is chosen for them or when they may not feel like they have a choice,  there is actually much they can decide. When things feel out of control, there are many parts of their lives that they can do something about. Their outside circumstances don’t have to dictate their internal condition. Other people don’t have the power to rob them of their birthright as children of the King – the gifts of freedom, joy, dignity. While sometimes in life they must learn to gracefully receive what they are given, in most circumstances, they can also create and make more with whatever that is. In other words, they have a lot of say in how they will experience their lives. Their choices have power – and they always have the power of choice. This lesson is an important one.

I’m not talking about going into denial or pretending all is ok when it most definitely isn’t. What I am talking about is learning to focus on the part of life that is their responsibility. And I want my kids, more than anything, to enjoy their lives. To learn to run into God’s will for them with a reckless and trusting abandon that makes their hair blow in the breeze and their faces glow with smiles and belly laughs.

The challenge of course is that life isn’t all smiles and belly laughs, is it? Sometimes the stuff that comes our way is really really crappy. And painful. And made up of things that none of us choose for ourselves.

And here lies the power of the gospel, the greatness of knowing Jesus. He doesn’t ask us to pretend our pain doesn’t exist. He doesn’t ask us to “best case scenario” our lives when things actually become “worst case scenario.” Instead, if we choose to fully invite Him in (and He almost always waits for the invite) He chooses to go there with us fully. To the dark places. The places no one thinks they’ll actually have to go. The places that make us say, “Surely that can’t be God’s will for my life because it is too…painful.”

Because in those places, treasure awaits. The treasure 0f His presence. Of understanding. Of depth. Of internal peace even when the outside storms and rages. Of the freedom that comes with not depending on our external circumstances or other people or stuff for our happiness, joy and contentment. When we choose to let go of our need to control it all… and when we choose to not define happiness in compliance with a culture that doesn’t really know much about happiness… when we choose to let Him make choices for us…these are all ways we choose more of Him. And that is a choice that always satisfies.

I want my kids to realize what a blessing it is to learn to choose to enjoy the life God has given them. Especially when the world wants to teach them to hate it. I want them to “decide how much fun they have,” and not give that power to others. I want my kids to live from the inside out, where Jesus lives in them and where they make their choices, rather than live from the outside in…which isn’t how God designed their hearts to work.

This is important to me because I spent so much of my youth choosing poorly. And like mothers everywhere, I want more for my kids than I had.

And it is important to me because as I write this, I am sitting in a waiting room with a sick husband in surgery. And my Father wants me to learn something of this lesson for myself, at a deeper level than I ever could have dreamed.

Here We Go Again

Jeff is going in for another surgery this week. There. I started this blog entry with a bang so that those of you who know us can tune in. But… a beginning like that needs context. So let me back up a bit and explain what is going on.

Here we go again.

This past fall, Jeff underwent emergency surgery to remove a blockage in his colon. It was cancerous.  It was a mess. The surgeries had complications. It changed our lives, changed our hearts. But Jeff and I survived and came home together, which we weren’t sure would happen there for a while. We were grateful. Still are.

We left the hospital in October knowing two things:

First, we knew he would have to have another surgery to permanently fix a few things they intentionally left undone at the time. This is the surgery he will have this week. It is planned, purposeful and hopefully will be complication-free, unlike our last experience. This is what his surgeon is anticipating. It should improve his quality of life and lead to greater healing. We are praying it will be so. But it was originally planned for February. We are just now getting around to it now in May because of the second thing.

Second, the doctors told us in October that as far as they could see, he was cancer-free. They would monitor him in the coming months and years to see if it returned. We came home ready to flip the page and begin our next chapter.

And this is where our story turns.

His first trip to his oncologist in January broke our hearts. His cancer has spread to his liver.

Jeff’s oncologist wanted to delay his surgery so they could immediately start chemotherapy to contain it. That is what we’ve been doing for the past few months. So far, so good. For the record, my husband is awesome. In the face of some pretty ugly and difficult obstacles, he has clung to Jesus, to me and is courageously walking the path He has chosen for us. He’s the man.:) Those of you who know him know I am speaking the truth. I digress.

And so later this week, we take the next steps in his care, which is surgery to complete the procedures from the fall and to continue treatment for his cancer.

Let me answer a few questions you may have:

1. How is Jeff doing? How are you doing?

Honestly, it depends on the day you catch us. Generally, Jeff is doing fine. He has responded well to chemotherapy which has allowed us to breathe a bit. He has experienced some pain, which the surgery should help with, so he and I are both looking forward to getting it behind us. Generally, I am doing well. I am trying to figure it all out, even when it is impossible to figure it all out. You know how I am:) Although, truthfully, I am dreading another round at the hospital. It was so painful last time, the thought of going back brings up a powerful rush of emotion. (Taking a moment to curl up in the fetal position and rock back and forth. Eating some chocolate. Short nap. Ok, better now.)

2.  Why haven’t you let people know about this till now, three months later?  

Well, we have actually let people know, just quietly, sporadically – depending on how we’ve felt at the time. (Like most things in this situation, it has been rather messy, emotional and a bit unpredictable.) It has taken us a while to decide how we wanted to go public with Jeff’s health. Our lives and stories aren’t always for the blogosphere. I’ve needed some time to process. A lot of what Jesus has been doing in my heart has been quite private, is very precious and is taking me a long time to put into words. Honestly, I wasn’t sure I’d ever write about it at all – and I’m still not sure how much I’ll actually write going forward. While I am a writer and communicator and I choose to do what I do rather transparently, this has felt very different. There have been times the ground has disappeared and I wanted to be sure I was standing again before I began to have the first round of public conversations about all this – especially with nosy folks who may not be very tactful (a comical topic I’ll write about in the near future.). And a lot of this is Jeff’s story, not mine. So, I decided to wait and let some of the emotional impact settle and the “what-the-heck-is-happening” moments pass, rather than throw our stuff out there without the benefit of perspective and composure.

3. So, why are you writing about it now?

Well, Jeff is going in for surgery followed by a hospital stay. It is significant. Those we know and love will know he’s having surgery. It is kind of hard to stay too private when you are loved:) And based on our last experience, I know many of you want to walk through this with us. So it is time.

And on a personal note, I still want to be a bit vague about the details here. I’ve been on the receiving end of TMI and I don’t want to go there – losing some of you. Instead of giving y’all the play-by-play, I’ll write more generally here. About the common themes of fear, loss, grief, how scripture comes alive when it connects with our pain, questions for Jesus when things fall apart, the blessings that come when we trust, the way it does good in our hearts when we choose to get vulnerable with those in the body of Christ, etc. These are the things that we all share in common, even if your story doesn’t include cancer. If you want details, you can contact me or Jeff directly.

4. What will you do with your blog now?

Ok, I know this is a question of mine and not really of yours, but let me answer so you know what to expect here on the blog. I’ve been experimenting with a very structured blogging schedule the last few years. I write about Jesus on Saturdays and usually another series of some sort during the week. I haven’t really written too much about our personal lives for a while. But this is still where so many who know us check in to see how we are doing. And I am finding out that things like cancer and surgery and what they do to one’s heart and faith don’t fit in a sound bite. This means Facebook and twitter are not quite the best medium to let folks know or for me to process my thoughts. And, it is impossible for me to continue on with what I normally write about here (Jesus and the messy places our spirituality intersect with our  lives) without beginning to incorporate this part of my life. So, for the next bit of time, I may deviate a bit from my standard m.o. and blog more spontaneously and more personally. Or I may not. It depends how it goes and how I feel.

And I know that even those who don’t know us personally may want to come along for the ride. What we will experience in our next season of life…Jesus most certainly shows up there. So all are invited.

And finally, if you want to stay more in the loop, you can follow my twitter feed (top right of this page) or subscribe to the blog for an email update (also on the right).

I Was So Naive (Jesus pt. 76)

I remember my wedding day, seeing my young and incredibly skinny Jeff, so handsome in his tux and so young-looking that I’m amazed someone didn’t require him to show an id at the church. I was so overwhelmed with emotion – and so clueless about marriage, life and love that I actually thought, “I will never love you more than I do today, right at this moment.” What a fool I was. Who knew how much God would use Jeff and our kids over the

Love on your wedding day looks so much different from love 17 years in to a marriage.

years to increase my capacity for love? Who knew what our time together would allow us to share, how we would grow, what we would experience – and how that would make me feel about him? Who knew what we would encounter on our life’s journey and the memories we would share? Who knew just what was hiding in our hearts as we walked together, waiting till the right season to reveal itself, leading us to become the others greatest source of healing and maturity? Who knew how God would use us in each other’s lives to give us more of Himself? To grow and change our character and hearts in ways few twenty-somethings are capable of imagining?

How I feel about Jeff now is nothing like I felt about him then. In fact, my present relationship with and affection for my husband is so different, I can hardly believe I called what I felt then “love”. Because what I feel now is …so much more. It is like I didn’t even know who he was then – I know him so much better, deeper, richer now.

It’s sort of been like this with Jesus.

When I was so young in my faith, I remember thinking how much I loved Him. How willing I was to follow Him anywhere, to give Him access to whatever part of my life He wanted. But I was so inexperienced. I had no idea what it meant to love. To love Him. To open myself up to the fullness of His love. That would take years to unfold. My heart was so shattered, so hard and brittle from a life lived in our sin-soaked world – doing things and having them done to me in ways that left such deep deep grooves and scars. I didn’t even know it either. It would take years before I was even ready to begin tackling the sanctifying work in my heart that Jesus had been targeting all along.

I was so naive.

I look at how I know and love Him now … at how much ground we have covered, at the memories and stories I have of His love and nearness and kindness to me…and I can’t believe I would think that the words I used as a clueless 20-something could even apply to my experiences and emotions now. It feels like I need a whole new vocabulary.

Good Conversation – (Healthy Rhythms pt. 2)

“Speak to one another with psalms, hymns and spiritual songs.” Ephesians 5:19

There are times when I walk through the halls of church and I get very frustrated. I pass through one conversation after another that goes something like this: “How are you doing?” “Fine, fine. You?” “Good.” “Staying busy?” “You know how it goes, especially with kids.” “I know that’s right.” “Well, have a good day!” “You too. See you later.”

For the record, there is nothing wrong with that exchange. We all know that in the South, “How are you?” is a greeting, not an actual question. It is not an expression of superficiality. It is just a pleasant, culturally appropriate and wonderful way to say hello to someone. The small talk that follows such a greeting is also part of the ritual. It is a way for two

Friends from overseas, enjoying the sunshine, our front porch and a great conversation.

people to say extended hellos to each other and acknowledge that they have a friendly relationship. If you’ve spent anytime at all crossing cultures, you know that how people greet each other is a very important part of relationships. It is the southern equivalent of shaking hands, giving a peck on the cheek, trading goats or drinking tea together, depending on where you are. It’s just how we say “Hey” to one another and warm up for the true communication to follow.

But. If over an extended period of time that is the extent and depth of the conversations that take place…It is like perpetually knocking on the front door and never getting invited inside to sit and stay a while. I’ve talked with many people about this very thing and found that others share my frustration and concern.

We were created for depth of relationship with others. If we are a Christ-follower, then even more so. The practice of our faith is a community thing. We are called to share our thoughts, burdens, joys and pains. That doesn’t happen as you pass someone in the hall. It happens over coffee. In a living room. At a kitchen table. While walking together somewhere outdoors. Whatever it is that brings you side by side and face to face with another person for an extended time.

Intentional conversation is a healthy rhythm to practice. Putting times on the calendar with good friends where the object is to ask questions like, “How are you?” and then not rush the answer. Ask follow-up questions. Move slowly through the exchange, following a train of thought thoroughly before switching topics.

Conversations around a dinner table are great! And while the birthday balloons are optional, the coffee isn’t.

A good conversation can be like a good meal. It takes time to gather the ingredients (trust, affection, shared memories), to prepare the food (when and where to meet, giving some thought about what to share and ask) and then to eat slowly, savoring the experience. A stomach feels completely different after a full meal with salad and dessert, than following a trip to McDonald’s.

I would suggest not only calendaring a few significant conversations a month, but also preparing for them. Think ahead of time what you want to ask and what you want to share. A good conversation is like a good tennis match. There should be lots of back and forth.

It can be a challenge to say, “This week I’m going to share my heart with someone and ask them about theirs,” without feeling a bit odd. Sort of needy, sort of nerdy. It feels like normal people don’t do that. But emotionally and spiritually healthy people do. It is so easy to let a month, then two, slip by and realize that you’ve haven’t talked with someone about anything more important than the weather, your kids’ schedules or sports teams.

I’ve not really had God show up in my life during a conversation about the weather. But I’ve repeatedly had Him show up during a conversation where I opened my heart to someone else. Knowing that, a rhythm of healthy conversation makes sense.