Telling the Truth

connecting the dots of my life

Tag: Faith and Hope

June 27, 2017

Wheels within Wheels or…

Why I have hope for my children and grandchildren.

I know. It sounds presumptuous. The world seems to be going to you-know-where in a handbasket. Whatever that means. I think that means going downhill fast. Possibly exploding into smithereens at the bottom.

I’m no Doubter. I fully accept the reality of climate change and, in particular, the reality of our abysmal human contribution thereto. Yet we seem honor-bound to look the other way, or helpless in the face of measurable warning signs.

Nor am I a Pollyanna, as we used to say way back when. I don’t wake up, see the sky falling and smile cheerfully, whistle a happy tune, or go about my business in denial. Everything isn’t chirpy, cheery or going to be all right.

I’m a pragmatic, realistic, down-to-earth woman who also happens to be intuitive, imaginative and energized by a challenge. I’m also a woman of faith, though I don’t expect God or a Higher Power to swoop down and rescue us at the last minute.

Life—past, present and future—is complex. Wheels within wheels spiral up, down, in, out, all around. In no way capable of being fathomed,  controlled or predicted.

I’ve seen yesterday’s disasters lead to today’s unpredicted miracles. And vice versa. Not because they were good or evil in themselves, but because they contained within them the possibilities for both good and ill.

Wheels within wheels are already turning this way and that, moving in directions we may never experience in our lifetimes. The future is unknown. And yet…the unknown already contains the seeds of tomorrow’s brilliant solutions and horrifying disasters.

I live in a world my grandparents and my parents didn’t expect. We haven’t self-destructed. Nor are we heaven on earth. We’re still made up of wheels within wheels, finding ever-new ways to accomplish good and evil.

I can’t guarantee things will turn out well for those I most love. Nonetheless, I have faith in our Creator who offers multiple opportunities to exploit wheels within wheels for good, not for ill. I also support and applaud human creativity that turns complexity into brilliant, often simple solutions that turn out right.

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 27 June 2017
Response to WordPress Daily Prompt: Wheel

10 Comments
June 21, 2017

Tough words for tough times

Words are actions. Written, spoken or springing to our minds, they aren’t make-believe. They convey intentions. They can’t be taken back, whether delivered flawlessly, flippantly or in jest. The large or small grain of truth has already been fired from the well-aimed barrel of a well-oiled tongue.

This morning I read Psalm 12. It invited me to ponder not just my tongue and what it reveals about me, but the cacophony of words flying about us on any given day.

  • Cutting. Slicing. Insinuating.
  • Demolishing. Killing. Maiming.
  • Flattering. Deceiving. Boasting.
  • Lording it over others.
  • Maligning the needy and the poor.
  • Decrying the rich and the famous.
  • Strutting. Preening.
  • Poisoning the air with intent to kill, maim, prevail at any cost.

Truth is difficult. It takes an effort. A clear head and a clear heart. Self-knowledge. Honesty and humility.

Here’s the full text of Psalm 12. The psalmist speaks passionately, with hyperbole, so great is his despair as well as trust in the Lord. His despair is not an exaggeration. Neither is his faith.

Psalm 12 (New International Version)

Help, Lord, for no one is faithful anymore;
Those who are loyal have vanished from the human race.
Everyone lies to their neighbor;
They flatter with their lips
But harbor deception in their hearts.

May the Lord silence all flattering lips
And every boastful tongue—
Those who say
“By our tongues we will prevail;
Our own lips will defend us—who is lord over us?”

“Because the poor are plundered and the needy groan,
I will now arise,” says the Lord.
“I will protect them from those who malign them.”
And the words of the Lord are flawless,
Like silver purified in a crucible,
Like gold refined seven times.

You, Lord, will keep the needy safe
And will protect us forever from the wicked,
Who freely strut about
When what is vile is honored by the human race.

Tough words for tough times, yes. Though not without hope for all of us. The damage doesn’t fall simply on the poor and needy. It falls on all of us–those who use their tongues and pens as weapons of war, or those who prefer firing bullets in the privacy of their minds and hearts.

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 21 June 2017
Image found at pinterest

8 Comments
May 1, 2017

I don’t know where to begin…

So I’m just going to blunder along for a bit. Which is, I’m told, the best way to begin. I think Eeyore would agree with me.

I’m a total novice when it comes to Chronic Kidney Disease (CKD). It wasn’t on my horizon and it isn’t in my family of origin.

But that doesn’t matter now. I have it. Stage 3A. In fact, I probably passed ‘Go’ well over a year ago without even knowing it.

So here I am. Floundering around, lurching through each day with emotional highs and lows, energy highs and lows, eating highs and lows, and little sense of overall wellbeing.

High means I’m upbeat, alert, happy to be alive, and at peace with my body. Giving happy hugs to D.

Low means I’m virtually asleep, can’t move a muscle including my brain, and don’t want to look at another healthy smoothie or make another easy-to-chew soup or stew. Weeping silently or openly. Collecting hugs from D as needed.

Do I feel sorry for myself? No, I don’t. Nor do I ask God, “Why me?” There are millions of us out there with this disease. What I regret is the relative invisibility of the disease—often until it’s too late.

Which raises the question of my status. You might think Stage 3A out of 5 stages is fairly decent. Answer: It is and it isn’t. It’s better than Stage 3B. That’s when you start talking about what’s coming in Stage 4 (preparation for the end game). Followed quickly by Stage 5 (dialysis, kidney transplant and, sooner or later, death).

At Stage 3A I have the possibility of leading a different yet fairly ‘normal’ life. That means constant attention to self-care, lab tests, and endless appointments with various doctors. Some people are able to reverse the progress of CKD, but it’s rare at Stage 3. Difficult but possible at Stage 2; often possible at Stage 1.

So what’s the solution? For me, I’m in a crash course I didn’t want. That means reading books, finding online resources, talking with family members, facing the reality that this is a terminal illness for which there is no magic pill. And of course, writing about it, especially about how I’m feeling.

It also means reordering each day as it progresses. Do I need to take a little nap? Meditate? Write my heart out? Do nothing but sit on the porch listening to the birds? Listen to music? Take a little walk? Have a good cry? A good rant?

This is an invisible disease. If you could see me, you probably wouldn’t know anything’s amiss. Most people without CKD haven’t heard much about it, think they won’t get it, or don’t know how to determine whether they’re at risk. Yet millions of us have it. Go figure.

I’ll post more from time to time. Not necessarily because you need to know, but because I want you to know and it helps immensely to write it out and make it public.

Thanks for visiting and reading!
Elouise♥

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 1 May 2017
Image found at pinterest.com
Response to WordPress Daily Prompt: Apprentice

28 Comments
October 21, 2016

Millions of Small Potatoes

small-potatoes

Salt of the earth
Gone underground
Difficult to sow
Backbreaking to harvest
Millions of them
Grains of sand
Galaxies in the sky
Drops in the sea
Uncounted millions
Tossed aside
Trampled on
Taken for granted
Overlooked and underestimated
Our hope for the future
When we’re willing to plough
The good earth
Bend over backwards
Shed a few tears
Get our hands grimy—
No small potato left behind

From One Small Potato to Millions of Others
With Love, Hope, Vision
and Gratitude for the Faithful
Who refused to leave me behind.
Elouise♥

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 21 October 2016
Response to WordPress Daily Prompt: Millions
Photo of grimy small potatoes found at agannex.com

2 Comments
May 24, 2015

Lord, I am weary of the way

This poem is for anyone who, like Amy Carmichael, finds life changed in a heartbeat. Anytime. Anywhere. My comments follow.

A Burdened Awakening

My thoughts had said:
Lord, I am weary of the way;
I am afraid to face another day—
Frustrated, limited,
Guarded, Confined wherever I would go
By close-set “cannots,” That like hedge grow
About me now. And then our dear Lord said,
“I am about thy bed.”

Amy Carmichael, Mountain Breezes: The Collected Poems of Amy Carmichael, p. 329;
 © 1999, The Dohnavur Fellowship, published by Christian Literature Crusade. First published in Though the Mountains Shake, 1943

* * * * *

Amy Carmichael was 76 years old when this poem was published. For more than 10 years before that, she had been confined to her room. She suffered from many ailments including such things as acute neuritis in one arm and arthritis in her back. Possibly because of an accident in 1931.

That year, Amy’s never-stop, never-say-no, never-give-up life came abruptly to an end. She spent almost all the next 20 years confined to her room before she died in 1951. Pain was her constant companion.

Suddenly she was dependent on others, not in charge anymore. Every day and night she dealt with physical, emotional and spiritual demons. She worked hard to maintain faith and her naturally cheerful spirit.

This isn’t just old age. This is old age magnified by unexpected tragedy.

I resist the thought that in old age I could be confined like this. I’ve defined my life chiefly in terms of productivity. I’m making a contribution to humanity. I’m not sitting around expecting others to wait on me. I get up and walk at will.

Then I read Amy’s poem. From the opening line, it seems the following words represent what she would like to say to God about her situation. This includes her anguish about the ever-growing list of things she cannot, must not do.

Her thoughts are interrupted by the voice of her “dear Lord” who says simply, “I am about thy bed.” That’s all. Just five words. No explanations, apologies or attempts to make her feel better.

It seems the Lord knows exactly what to do and say. Perhaps because he’s been there, cut off from every avenue of escape and facing an unknown future. And so he offers to Amy what he can: his presence and his compassion.

I can’t help thinking about military personnel, refugees, trafficked persons, victims of earthquakes, bombs, avalanches, abuse, accidents, sudden death and disabilities of all kinds. Lives traumatized, changed in an instant no matter who they are or how they’ve lived their lives. Being human means being vulnerable.

Amy’s poem is a gift for anyone whose life has been turned upside down. Amy wasn’t alone. Neither are we. I’m counting on it, one moment at a time.

“I am about thy bed.”

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 23 May 2015

20 Comments
February 3, 2015

“Missing”

Here’s a wartime poem from Amy Carmichael.  Have you ever dreaded or experienced the knock at the front door?  An unexpected phone call?  My brief comments are at the end. Read the rest of this entry »

4 Comments