My First Published Article!

I know it's just a free magazine that our local newspaper does, but I am actually seeing my name in print!! I wrote this article for Living Well, which is one of the publications that the company I work for advertises in. I am not actually the Marketing Director for The Goodman Group; I am the Marketing Director for The Village Senior Residence, which is owned by The Goodman Group.

Living with Chronic Illness

If there is anything that a person living with chronic illness can tell you about, it’s changed plans. This can be especially true around the holidays, when life is busy, stress is high, and family demands seem to increase. However, a flare-up doesn’t have to ruin your holidays or your time with friends and family. Over the past 5 years, while living with Ulcerative Colitis combined with rheumatoid like joint pain, I have learned some strategies and attitudes that have eased the stress of a flare-up and helped me to adjust my plans and expectations. It has been my hope that what I have learned can help someone who is newly facing a diagnosis or is supporting a loved one who is.

When I first received my diagnosis, I handled it in an unhealthy way. I rebelled. I told myself that I was stronger than the disease and that I could push through it. I believed that beating it meant carrying on about my routines as though I felt healthy. When exhaustion and a hospital stay finally demanded that I slow down, I found myself rethinking my perspective.

The first thing that struck me was how tied to time I had become. My first response to the news that I was being admitted was “I don’t have time for this,” Of course, this had been my default response to all things UC related. I don’t have time to be sick. I don’t have time to rest. I don’t have time to eat right. Suddenly, in the hospital, I was forced to “have time for this.”

I suppose my habit of being tied to time was something that I had formed a long time ago, perhaps one that we all have developed to some point. It’s something that I hear all the time, from the sick and the well. People with the flu wail out “But I don’t have time to be sick!”  Parents feel they are failing because the laundry is not done. Workers eat lunch at their desks because they have GOALS to meet. Mourners express regret for the things they had meant to do with their departed loved one.

My relationship with time had to change. I began to understand that time spent differently than planned is very often still time well spent. Often, when we do not meet our own expectations for the time we are using, we feel like we have lost something. But in reassessing, we usually find that we have used that time for things that were equally as important. Perhaps you did not get your laundry done today, had to skip the gym, or missed a day of work, but your took care of your body, mind, and spirit. Even on our well days, this is important to remember. Time spent differently is still time well spent. Dinner may be late, but did you enjoy that extra hour with your favorite book? The trip you planned with your departed loved one may not have happened, you still made memories that will serve as a shield against grief. In looking back, we often find that what we have done is enough and that it was meaningful to those who shared that time with us. It’s far too easy to forget the valuable things we have done with our time when we focus on what we have not done.

Interestingly enough, I also had to learn that procrastination doesn’t pay. I make my periods of wellness productive and organized. If I get sick, it is less stressful when I know that my work is well organized enough that anyone in the office can find it and take care of anything that needs to be done in my absence. My daily routines are eased because I have kept up with chores. This doesn’t mean that I never get behind, but I don’t live in constant anticipation of chaos.

I have also learned to accept the gifts that people give. People don’t always show their love to us in the way we would prefer, but they do show it in the ways that they know how. This can sometimes show up as giving advice, lecturing you on your diet or habits, over-assisting, or staring at you worriedly. Accept the gift for the spirit in which it is given. Resenting the gift creates stress, for you and on the relationship with the giver. If you really can’t accept what they are offering, let them know what you need. Most of the time, people want to help, but don’t know how. I keep a list of things that I need to delegate to others at work should I be absent and a list of opportunities for people who offer to help. I rarely have to use the lists, but it eases the stress of anticipation for me and creates clear choices for those who support me.

Another important thing that I learned was to separate my identity from the disease. In the beginning, the UC was always in my mind. I felt unfamiliar with my body because, now, it wasn’t what I had always thought it was. Perhaps I wasn’t who I thought I was, either. I struggled with fear of the future, depression related to my self-image, and a sense of betrayal. It took a while for to re-align my self-image and realize that I was still me. I have a friend who says “I have MS; it doesn’t have me.” She is aware of the disease, but is aware of herself outside of it. She’s a weaver, a creator, a mother, and a blogger. Her MS is there, but she is the identified one. I have learned to identify myself through who I am rather than what my disease has given to me.

This change came with acceptance. Acceptance isn’t something that we are naturally inclined to follow, but it is something that is necessary for our growth and health. “It is what it is,” has become one of my favorite sayings. Through this, I accept the days that I must do less. I accept the times that I must take medications that are inconvenient. I accept that perhaps some of my goals must be re-evaluated. Today, I am sick. I cannot live this day as though I were well. I must accept the limitations that are put upon the day. Resentment, denial, and disappointment will create stress for me. Acceptance frees me to reassign my energies to where they will be most useful. I won’t be mowing the lawn, but I may refocus energy into healing, spiritual restoration, writing cards, reading a book, talking to a friend. Just as time spent differently is not time wasted, energy spent differently is not energy wasted.

One of the most important things that I learned was not to waste the experience, but to use it for good. Rick Warren, Pastor of Saddleback said something following the sudden suicide of his son that has stuck with me. He said, “I’m certainly not going to waste this pain. One of the things I believe is that God never wastes a hurt and that oftentimes your greatest ministry comes out of your deepest pain.”

It may be that a chronic illness changes little in your journey; it may be that it changes the entire course of your life. It may mean new career choices, new living arrangements, loss of particular dreams and goals. Here is where you can let the disease kill your spirit or you can turn it into a source of strength. Those who thrive have chosen to use the experience for good. There is an old saying that I have applied to my life “Those who cannot do teach.” I have taken it as a challenge and an opportunity, rather than the insult that we usually intend it to be. Are you unable to enjoy certain hobbies or contribute to your community the way that you want to? Teach someone else what you have learned. The world is looking for teachers, mentors, and supporters of ambition and your experience has equipped you uniquely to give, serve, and teach.

In the large things and the small, be gentle with yourself, patient with those who surround you, and grateful for the good things- even the ones that come in disguise. Set new goals that align with your capabilities and stay busy. Accept the days as they come and use your energies wisely. Find something to contribute to your world, remembering that a giving person cannot be anything but a grateful person. You will find that you can say along with my friend “I have this illness; it doesn’t have me.” 

Wibbley-wobbley Timey-wimey

I recently found myself thinking about the emphasis that we place on time. I look at the clock half way through my day and I panic because I haven’t accomplished the tasks that I set out for myself. Or I look at the calendar and frown because I haven’t met the weight loss goal that I had set. Suddenly, I feel that because I haven’t done what I had planned, I have been robbed of that time. I also find myself irritated with things like illness and car repairs that I feel I “don’t have time for!” Having had a bout with illness a while ago that landed me in the hospital where I was forced to “have time for this,” I began to re-evaluate what a priority I place on TIME. Why do the clock and calendar have such power? They are there to measure time, not dictate it or assign it relevance.

I find I am not alone in my relationship with time. People with the flu wail out “But I don’t have time to be sick!”  Mothers feel they are failing because the laundry is not done. Workers eat lunch at their desks because they have GOALS to meet. Mourners express regret for the things they had meant to do with their loved one before they were gone.

 I think that a lot of this is perspective. Time spent differently than we planned is very often still time well spent. As I said in my first paragraph, when I do not meet my own expectations for the time I am using, I feel like I have lost something. But in reassessing, I usually find that I have used that time for things that were equally as important. Maybe my office shelves are still a mess and spreadsheets are hopelessly mixed up, but I had the pleasure of hearing about WWII from a man who was at Pearl Harbor. I did not get my craft room put together this weekend (again...) but I read a book that fueled my creativity and I watched a flock of ducks waddle through a field. Time well spent, I think.

Perhaps you did not get your laundry done today, but didn’t you love being the one who got to wipe away your child’s tears? Maybe you did skip the gym last night, but wasn’t it nice to go home while it was still light out, sit in your kitchen and think “I like my home!” If that trip you planned with your loved one never happened, you still made memories that will serve as a shield against grief.

In looking back, we often find that what we have done is enough and that it was meaningful to those who shared that time with us. It’s far too easy to forget the valuable things we have done with our time when we focus on what we have not done.

Perhaps that reassignment of our planned time is God’s assignment for things more needful.

This is the lesson I am learning: to evaluate my time and how I have spent it more gently. And I invite you to do it, too. Stop and consider the good experiences, the tasty lunches, the conversations (short  or long) and time with friends and family, the hour in the car repair shop, even the days you skipped the gym. How will you see the time you have spent? Will you measure what you have missed or will you treasure what you have gathered?

Drop That Bucket.

“You have nothing to draw with and the well is deep.” she said to the strange man who offered her a drink. No, not just a drink, but a promise that if she drank, she would never thirst again. Water was what she came seeking. And she knew how to get it. After all, the well had always met her need before. She had the process down. Bring your vessel to the well, lower it into the water, and bring it back up full. But this time it was different. She suddenly recognized a need for something that she couldn’t figure out how to get. And the man in front of her didn’t seem to be inclined to use traditional methods.


What do we do when we are met with a need we can‘t meet with our usual solutions? When the doctor says “I don‘t know what to do.” He’s been your well and suddenly, he can’t draw water any more. Or when a job is gone. When a friend leaves. When your peace is destroyed or your heart is broken. Suddenly, you need a source of water. You know where that water usually comes from; you‘ve been going to the well for it. You might even think you see it, way down at the bottom. This time, though, the well is deep and there is nothing to draw with.


As we focus on traditional solutions, we forget that God may plan to meet our need in a way that we do not expect. Certainly, the Samaritan woman thought she had it figured out. I smile when she asks “Where are you getting this water? Are you greater than Jacob, who dug this well?” I like to think that Jesus laughed inside as He anticipated her surprise and joy when her revelation came.


This is the heart of the matter. Do you believe He is greater than your trusted wells? It’s easy to think that we have come up with the best answer for our problems and to tell God so when we pray. We may not say “What, You think you have a better solution?” But we sometimes we ask “How are you going to do this? I don’t see a way.” We focus on the solution that we see at the bottom of the well. We focus on the fact that there is nothing to draw with. But Jesus isn’t in the well. He is greater than the well. He is the water.


I love the way the Samaritan woman leaves her water pot when she understands who Jesus is and where her water is coming from. To me, this is a picture of giving control of our supply to God. We see it in those who truly understand that Jesus is the water. Peter drops his nets. Matthew swipes the coins off the table. The woman with the issue of blood sheds her dignity and her doctors to crawl to the hem of His garment. David rejects Saul’s armor. The lame man puts away his begging mat. The blind man stops asking for alms and asks for mercy. They no longer hold onto the things they have been trusting in to sustain them.


What are seeking? Into what well are you gazing, thinking that the answer to your need is at the bottom. Instead of leaning stubbornly over a well, let me encourage you to lift up your eyes and focus on the one who is the water. When you do, you will understand that He is greater than the things you have been trusting in to sustain you. How does the song go? “He may not come when you want Him, but He’ll be there right on time.” Well, He also may not come from where you expect Him or do things the way you asked Him. But He’ll be there. On time. With enough. In the right way. You’ll drop your water pot, too.

Ordered By The Lion

Lately, on my way back and forth to church, I have been listening to C.S. Lewis’s The Horse and His Boy. I have listened to it before, but this time, the story wrapped itself around my heart and inscribed thereon a reminder of the one truth that I have clung to since my youth.

The Horse and His Boy is the story of Shasta, a boy who has been a slave to a cruel master for as long as he can remember, and his escape to Narnia. With him, travel a Tarkan girl fleeing an arranged marriage and 2 Narnian horses taken into captivity as foals. On the journey, they are met with many hardships and Shasta seems to feel their hardships the most. Near the end of the story, he is wandering in a wilderness lamenting his misfortune when he hears a voice asking him why he feels that he is so unfortunate.

Replying, he recounts the hardships that he has faced. Orphaned. Enslaved. Separated from his friends. Lost. Cold. Hungry. Alone. Chased and frightened by lions. Surely, anyone can see that he is a most unfortunate boy. But the voice tells him “I do not call you unfortunate.”

What? Not unfortunate? Why, even to meet so many lions should be enough to have a legitimate claim to misfortune.

But the voice still disagrees and reveals he was the lion, the only lion, that Shasta has encountered. He tells him,

"I was the lion who forced you to join with Aravis. I was the cat who comforted you among the houses of the dead. I was the lion who drove the jackals from you while you slept. I was the lion who gave the Horses the new strength of fear for the last mile so that you should reach King Lune in time. And I was the lion you do not remember who pushed the boat in which you lay, a child near death, so that it came to shore where a man sat, wakeful at midnight, to receive you."

Those familiar with C.S. Lewis’s work, know that the lion is Aslan, who Lewis used to represent Christ in his stories. And you’re way ahead of me, aren’t you?

It’s easy for us to see how the good things and the neutral things are the hand of God in our lives. That makes sense. It’s harder to recognize His hand when the things we face are painful or frightening or disappointing. It’s often only in looking backwards that we recognize His guidance and His care.

Right now, I feel as though lions were devouring my life. I had such plans before this illness and this pain came upon me. It looks, right now, as if those things are lost. Like Shasta, I stumble a little in the dark and wonder why I am facing such things. I have had days when the disappointment was almost something I could taste. I have had days when I was one Sarah MacLaughlin song away form crawling into bed and never getting out again. But those have been days; I have an entire life of God’s goodness to compare them to. Experience and scripture tell me that He knows the thoughts that He has towards me. I may not have the details or understand the logistics, but I know I have a future and a hope.

So I refuse to call myself unfortunate. I hear Christ saying “I was the lion.” and I am comforted.

Just as Shasta didn’t know the glorious future that was before him and that even his “misfortunes” were vehicles to carry him towards the life that he was born to have, we do not always recognize the lions in our lives as one Lion who is directing our paths. It is through this recognition that we find ourselves at peace with circumstance and at peace with the direction in which those circumstances take us.

The steps of a good man are ordered by the [Lion] and he delighteth in His way.

Give Me Also Springs of Water

I have been sitting in my living room, sorting through journals and scraps of paper upon which are written many “great and precious promises.” I am wondering what has become of the girl who collected them. For, I have been struggling lately to reconcile my circumstances with what I am convinced that God is speaking to my heart. Almost to the point of Sarah’s incredulous laughter.

You see, it’s been awhile since I saw a miracle. I know I’ve seen the everyday faithfulness of God. Money still comes when I have a need. Just the right doctors are there at just the right time. I am safe, protected, surrounded by blessings. But what I am in the middle of now, requires a miracle that can only be recognized as such. It is a need that God alone can meet. And that voice that says “Can God prepare a table in the wilderness?” is loud and persistent.

But, I have faced times like these before. I have it written in these journals and notebooks before me. I have a reminder of the day I sat at the foot of my bed weeping over Isaiah 41:10 as the time to leave for college loomed closer and closer. I had no money, no job, and too few clothes. Circumstances were against me. But didn’t He come through! I have a prayer of thanks for a time that He sent a friend to show me the way out of a bad decision that was clinging to me like a shadow. I have the memory of migraines disappearing after one prayer of faith, never to return. I have spades of evidence that God hears me and comes through.

I suppose part of my struggle is in wanting to accept whatever God has planned for me. Because I know that growth comes from trials, I do not want to miss what might be God’s way of building my faith or pruning out things that hinder my walk with Him. Nor do I want to spend my time in a desert place moping and complaining. Dying in the wilderness, when a land chock-full of milk and honey is just an attitude adjustment away, is not the way I want to go. While I long for deliverance, I do not want to be guilty of overlooking what God has already done on my behalf.

While on my journey aboard this train on thought, I began to think of Achsah. She was a girl who was not content with dwelling in a desert. Upon her marriage to Othniel, she had been given a piece of southern land by her father, Caleb. Though the Bible doesn’t specify what type of land this was, commentators say that the southern land was a dry desert-like region. I suppose this land could have provided them a sufficient living. But I think it would have been back-breaking work. And Achsah knew it. She also knew that her father owned springs of water and would provide them if she asked. When Caleb heard her request, he didn’t rebuke her for being ungrateful, he simply gave her what she asked. Springs of water! To change a land that could provide life into a land that could provide abundant life.

Just now, I do feel as though I am dwelling in a desert land. I do not forget those blessings with which He daily loadeth me. I thank God for my job, my doctors, my opportunities to minister. But I’ve a yen for springs of water. For green growing things. For healing and promises kept. While I desire to accept with grace His will for my life, my health, and my circumstances, I do not want to forget that the desert is not all there is. I do not want to “have not because I ask not,” and I have not been asking.

Somewhere, in these old journal pages, is the girl that refused to accept circumstances over faith. She would have been face down on the altar surrounded by her “vessels not a few” saying “Give me also springs of water.” And as I roll it over in my mind, I find it fitting my need very well. I shall dust off my “vessels not a few” and once more leave them out all over the place where I shall trip over them everywhere I turn. For falling on grace never has hurt me.

Painting With Beautiful Light

“My husband painted that.” Annie told me with a girlish giggle that denied her 70 years. Turning to look behind me, I saw a large painting gracing the wall across from her bed. It was a portrait of Annie in a faded blue house dress and a radiant smile. Annie is not a classically beautiful woman, and none of her faults are omitted in the painting yet, in this picture, she is one of the loveliest women I have ever seen. Suddenly, I am fascinated.

I went back many days to consider the mystery of Annie’s painting until I understood. When a person looks at that portrait, they see her the way that her husband saw her- beautiful. Every flaw is painted in, from the veins on her hands to the way that little lines play around her mouth and neck, but we see only how lovely she is. Because he loved her, he painted her in a beautiful light and now there is no doubt in the mind of anyone who sees her that she is indeed a beautiful lady.

I decided then that this was how I wanted to be loved. Love that sees me just as I am, yet uses a beautiful light to “paint my picture.” I want the man who loves me to believe what he is painting so much that everyone else sees it, too. In spite of the flaws and mistakes and even the sins, I’d like at least him to use that lovely indescribable light to portray me.

Then I considered some of my own artistic triumphs. I haven’t always pained others in a favorable light before others. I’ve let anger magnify faults and disappointment color people in ugly shades. I’ve let misplaced humor portray others as ridiculous. I’m ashamed of some of the portraits I have made and even more ashamed that I have put some of them on display. Especially, I am ashamed, when I consider what light has been shed over me by the grace of God. “All glorious within” has He called me? Certainly, I am not. Yet, the Savior says that it is so and paints me in shades mixed with grace and His own righteousness.

I think that it must take a lot of work to paint a portrait like Annie’s. Years of practicing forgiveness and patience. Lots of lessons in preferring others above ones self. Studying one’s subject until it is understood and then studying some more. One day, I hope to leave behind me better pictures. They will be the kind of pictures that make others see the best in their subjects. I can’t erase her flaws, but I can focus on what a sweet spirit she always practiced. I can’t change his past, but I can show others how insignificant it is compared to the magnificent things God did with his life. Doesn’t love cover a multitude of sins? I think if I keep practicing, soon I will access that light naturally and use it easily. And something is whispering to me that it isn’t too late to dust off some of my old portraits and restore them with love instead of ill-feeling as a light to see by.

I am determined to clean my brushes and mix up better colors. You may join me if you would like.

My Thoughts on Going and Staying

"The command has been to "go," but we have stayed - in body, gifts, prayer and influence. He has asked us to be witnesses unto the uttermost parts of the earth…But 99% of Christians have kept puttering around in the homeland."
- Robert Savage

After having been back east for a conference, I have very mixed emotions. I was so very blessed by fellowship and by the many people that I met. I was overwhelmed by the sheer numbers of able ministers and lay people that surrounded me. Their company and their ministering did me so much good.

But at the same time I was grieving my heart out. I haven’t been many places in the world. But I have been enough places and talked to enough people to find the contrast between the availability of the Gospel in the Bible belt and other parts of the world quite vast. Tribes that wait decades for a Bible in their language. Tiny villages that say to a missionary “We have prayed for many years to meet God.”

I can’t remember who said “No one has the right to hear the gospel twice while there are those who have never heard it once.” but it kept running through my mind.

To the best of my knowledge, Montana has one holiness Pentecostal church, and while I am not so delusional as to believe that this is the only denomination of merit, I do feel the lack of it’s influence in society overall when it is not present. South Dakota has none. Arizona has one. I sometimes feel selfish remaining in a state that has even as much access to the Gospel as that while many countries have never heard the Gospel at all. Yet, I meet some even here who know the name of Jesus as just a curse word. And I am asked a surprising number of times what a Christian believes.

Whenever I am in a group of people, especially young people, who appear to be ministry minded, I try to remind them of the places where need is great. I will encourage every last young person in every last church to consider the great commission beyond their four walls if they seem interested. I’ll encourage those who are older as well, but I find the young generally have less reservation about abandoning their lives. I love to encourage mission work and pioneer work. I like to remind those who feel the call of God of the places that have few or none to meet the need of spreading the Gospel. But there is always someone listening from a corner who interrupts my suggestion of “Maybe God is calling you to do this.” with “No. he isn’t.” or “Not everyone is called to do that.” or “We need them right here.”

The last comment is the most irritating to me. I have driven your streets and seen the churches on every corner. I have sat in your pews and know that some of the called have nothing to do. The churches and towns in the Bible belt are overflowing with ministers, workers, and competent teachers. As well as with those who will be such in the very near future. I wonder what is meant by “We need them right here.” To do what? Fill a pew so that the doors can stay open? It would not be a bad thing, in my opinion, if one or two holiness churches in a town closed down because it’s members suddenly took hold of the great commission and flooded the corners of the world that have not heard. What a great story that would be! And there would be plenty of room in churches still there to absorb those who God truly called to stay home and work. No, you do not need every last one of your members. Send the ones who can go and consolidate those who cannot into a better unified body. You have too many. Share with those who have none.

As for “Not everyone is called.” I like what Ion Keith-Falconer says "While vast continents are shrouded in darkness…the burden of proof lies upon you to show that the circumstances in which God has placed you were meant by God to keep you out of the foreign mission field." Or without a call, a ministry, an outreach of some sort.

To those so quick to say “No. He isn’t calling her/him.” Why would that be one’s immediate response? Why would we begin with the assumption that one is not called? Why do we not say instead, “What a wonderful opportunity to serve God! Pray about that!” Hudson Taylor made this statement "It will not do to say that you have no special call to go to China. With these facts before you and with the command of the Lord Jesus to go and preach the gospel to every creature, you need rather to ascertain whether you have a special call to stay at home."

The call is not as hard to recognize as we have made it. Sometimes, recognition of a need and the realization that you can meet it is the call.

Isabel Kuhn said “I believe that in each generation God has called enough men and women to evangelize all the yet unreached tribes of the earth. . . . No it is not God who does not call. It is man who will not respond.” I believe it, too. Nothing else aligns, to my way of thinking, with Jesus’ command to “Go ye into all the world” (Mark 15:16) and His declaration that “ye shall be witnesses unto me both in Jerusalem, and in all Judea, and in Samaria and unto the uttermost parts of the earth.” (Acts 1:8) If God is not willing that any should perish, it follow that He has someone in mind to tell everyone.

Some are truly meant to stay at home. Good examples are needed at home. “God has called every Christian to international missions, but He does not want everyone to go. God calls some to be senders.” (David Sills) I know some excellent people who are meant to stay at home and are doing a tremendous job of it. They are senders, supporters, encouragers, just good examples of Godly living at their jobs and in their communities. I would not dream of trying to get them to leave. But far more, I think, are staying than should.

Every time I pray for my Sunday School class, I pray that God calls them and sends them. May their parents forgive me, but I do. Every week, we choose a country to pray for and these small children, when asked to pray in church, never fail to mention missionaries. The same desire that I strive to kindle in their little hearts, with God's help, to see all the world reached, I also hope is kindled in the heart of someone who reads this today.