Sing God's Praise

A couple of months ago, I read in someone's email: "When it comes to martyrdom, I'm a card carrying member of Cowards Unlimited. I don't relish the idea of physical pain. The dentist is bad enough, but martyrdom is something else. Jesus warned His followers of terrible tribulation in the end times. Many Christians believe that the church will be raptured before it happens.

"Frankly, I don't believe that. I don't think the Scripture teaches it. Of course, I might be wrong. Believe me, I want to be wrong. I don't feel like hanging round and being “tribulated.” However, the fact remains, should Jesus ever require you and me to be crucified, how will we react? My prayer is that He will strengthen me to accept it as from His loving hand. I don't think there is any other way."

At which point, the following poem streamed from my fingertips whole-cloth. It is past time I shared it with my readers.

When times of trouble
Come flowing our way
Many of Faith will look
For Blessed Rapture Day
But what if, at that time
Lord Jesus asks us to stay?

There are two Witnesses
Called to stay behind
And share the Truth that
Others could not find
For many repentant hearts
Is what GOD has in mind

Before that final period
As in the words you give
Comes the time of Martyrs
Brightness shining thru a sieve
But what if during this time
Request is not to die, but live?

There are many in the world
Who suffer acute chronic pain
There is no cure, no correction
No hope being pain-free again
Tho they pray and have Faith
Their agony is still the same

 Yet, these chronic sufferers
Are also bright points of Light
They keep their eyes on GOD
Tho in agony day and night
It is through their example
They bring others some delight

For through their days of pain
Their tears are more than few
They still sing God's praises
For all they are still able to do
Not a minute or movement is
Taken for granted by them too

While some may die Martyrs
In one of many horrible ways
There are also chronic pains
For some all of their days
No matter what our life holds
May we always sing God's praise!!

~ ESA

Healing

Some of you may have seen yesterday's tweets that I have no more pain. Some of those I've touched base with over my hiatus know some of what was going on. While I don't normally do so in this blog, I'd like to share with my readers what happened. This is a very real, and very personal experience.

Last summer, due to medical complications and high levels of pain from ovarian cysts and other issues with my reproductive organs, I had a full hysterectomy. While on the mend, I developed what many believe was the "routine" UTI (bladder infections) that follow a hysterectomy. I was given my dosage of anti-biotics and told to drink plenty of fluids, including sage use of cranberry juice.

The pain continued - and worsened - over the next few months. They kept giving me anti-biotics at increasing doses, even though the cultures were coming back negative. The doctors kept offering me pain killers, but I wanted to find out what was wrong, not just "be more comfortable." I went through a battery of tests and, finally admitting they had no clue, I was sent to a urologist. The cystoscopy, where they shove a pencil sized camera into my bladder was agony! I had no pain-killers at all in my system, and not even a "local" for the procedure. Despite what courage I could muster, I was howling with tears streaming down my cheeks every time I urinated for several weeks thereafter.

After more tests, the urologist finally diagnosed the problem: Interstitial Cystitis / Painful Bladder Syndrome (IC/PBS). While there are many possible ways to get this condition, mine was likely caused by the recent "trauma" to my bladder during the hysterectomy, where they had to "peel" the uterus from the bladder. It's also a condition that is often misdiagnosed, as mine had been, but not discovered for an average of FOUR YEARS!  I had mine discovered in three months, mostly because I kept insisting they find the issue and stop trying to give me pain meds to cover up the symptoms.

According to Wikipedia, it's a "chronic, oftentimes severely debilitating disease of the urinary bladder" and is officially recognized as a disability. While I wasn't about to leave work, I at least had the diagnosis and was ready for the cure.

There is none.

Apparently, this condition only worsens with anti-biotics, pain medications and a seven-page list (I wish I was kidding!) of foods, seasonings and other items that irritate a IC/PBS bladder. There was some bladder-friendly foods, though, and I needed to change my diet dramatically and promptly. This, unfortunately would mean months to soothe the bladder, and my diet would be an unhealthy high white-starch, low vegetable, no fruit diet. Yes, cranberry juice was at the top of the "Do not have" list, as was caffeine (even decaf), chocolate, fruits, spicy foods, and many other things I enjoy.

The diet commenced at the start of December; egg nog, Christmas cookies and chocolate were no longer on my list of edibles. In fact, with such a restricted list, plus having to run to restroom every 15-30 minutes to grit my teeth during frequent, painful urinations, I had to cancel all business travel as well. This condition was certainly disrupting my life. And I prayed each day to be healed. I still had to wait...

Starting in late January, while the pain was there but finally starting to ease, a new condition arose. My hands started to hurt, and the bones in my feet. Then my wrists and ankles hurt, feeling more and more like arthritis. I'm only 42! My knees took on a whole new kind of agony; in weeks I could no longer walk up and down stairs without taking it one step at a time while biting back cries of pain and clinging to the railing. Then my shoulders ached so I couldn't sleep at night. Finally my back and neck joined the chorus and I was in miserable agony all over.

I had no option of taking pain killers to alleviate any of this.

It was then that I reached out to some I know on Twitter, asking for their prayers as well. I needed help, and I was beginning to wonder if God was ever going to get me through this pain. Just a small doubt, but it was there. I needed my brothers and sisters to help me as my faith started to flag.

I have this image on a medallion around my neck. It's a constant reminder that I need to trust God. I need to trust Yeshua/Jesus. There was a plan in place and while I could not see it, I had to have a bit more faith.

It was discovered about a month later that the joint pain was caused by vitamin deficiency from my IC/PBS diet. Vitamin supplements were not allowed by the diet. I had a choice: break the diet by taking supplements or by eating prohibited food - both of which would cause more pain in the bladder. Either way I was in pain, but if I got rid of the joint pain, I could still work - heck! I could still WALK!

Given the body better absorbs vitamins via the food instead of supplements, I opted to re-introduce certain foods into the diet; this was a daily dose of orange juice. The vitamin-rich drink did wonders for easing the joint pain, but made me dread urination. It was a battle of what hurt more, urinating or the pain of a full bladder. The pain in my joints didn't disappear completely either, but I could still function at my desk job.

I continued to pray.

Ironically, white rice was on my "permitted foods" list, so I was able to have my 1-rice-ball-per-day-plus-dinner fast for the 40-day period of Lent. Near the end, I started to add a handful of peanuts to the rice ball as I started having tremors in my limbs. I continued the orange juice every-other day as daily hurt the bladder WAY too much to endure.

Then the day after Palm Sunday - the Monday of Holy Week - I was told to have some faith that all this pain would end soon. "Soon" is a relative term, my mind argued. So I was given something more specific. As it was around sunset that day, I was told give it one week - until sunset next Monday (day after Easter).

That Monday, I was still in pain. I had been "bad" on the diet, for I had eaten a few black jelly beans Easter Day, and added an even worse offense that morning: coffee so I could get through the very busy day ahead of me. My joints hurt from both the condition and scrubbing down the 10-burner kitchen stove at the church following the Sunrise Service breakfast. My knees were in agony anytime I needed to go up and down stairs and grumbled, popped, cracked and crackled as I walked. My hands hurt when I held a stack of paperwork or used the computer mouse too long. At the end of the day, I had also developed a vicious sinus headache that equaled a few migraines I've had. My left eye - my only good eye as I'm legally blind in the right - was squinted shut with the pain and sensitivity to light. My upper teeth ached, as I minced my way through dinner. Then I crawled into bed.

Through all this, I never forgot the promise that if I had even a little bit of faith in Him, that all this pain would go away. My mind argued, that if I was so bad with this diet, that if my joints still hurt so bad, plus this wicked headache on top if it all, how can I possibly be pain-free by sunset that day?

The words, "Trust me; just TRUST me," kept bouncing through my head. I lay in bed watching cartoons at low volume to try to distract my mind from the pain and quiet myself enough to sleep. I also prayed... and held on to the smallest scrap of faith I had left. My eyes closed to sleep just as the sun disappeared beyond the horizon.

The next morning I awoke to a wondrous surprise - no pain! At all! There was no pain in the full bladder; there was no pain urinating! I was still half-asleep so I didn't realize right away that there was also no pain in any of my body - joints, limbs, head - anywhere! It was truly and remarkably ALL gone!

Tuesday, I had three (3) cups of coffee and orange juice - no pain! I could go up and down stairs without any issue! In fact, I could plant one-foot-per-step rather than both-feet-per-step as I had done. By the end of the work-day, I was practically dancing up and down the stairs in the office building! I attended yoga that night, where my knees cracked loudly once but had their full range back like I had when I was 20! In fact - the whole day was entirely PAIN FREE!

Wondering if this was some fluke, I waited until Wednesday. Again - there was no pain - anywhere! No matter what I ate, I could pee pain-free! I cannot express the joy of that simple blessing after so many months of pain. That morning, I started to sing on Twitter!

Thursday, there was still no pain, my mobility and range feel as though I'm once again in my 20's. My heart SINGS with joy and I wanted to reach out and connect with as many brothers and sisters as possible. I told a few that I had no more pain, the ones that knew some of what I've been through.

Yesterday, one of them sent out a praise report - and rightly so. This is something very worthy of a Song to God. I had been truly delivered from pain; I've been healed. There is no science or other means I can explain this. I will go to the doctors with the report, but I should also share this story as well.

Miracles do happen

With little faith

Like a mustard seed

- ESA

Twit-Gusted!

Those that follow my Twitter account closely may have noticed I dropped off twitter for a bit. Before I disappeared, I stopped thanking people publicly for re-postings/"retweets" (RTs), follow recommendations (FF), and mentions of my user-name in general.

While I still believe it's polite to thank someone when they recommend me, send greetings my way and sharing (RT) one of my posts that they liked, I came to realize that people like to see their user-name mentioned publicly on Twitter - including me. In order to perpetuate the mention of their user-name, some would re-post anything containing their user-name, including posts where I thanked a group of people.

This produced multiple copies of the same list, as one person would re-post it and others would re-post the re-postings, and so on. Soon my inbox was inundated with more nonsense re-posts than there were tribbles on the Enterprise!

All this is simply because people enjoy stroking their own and each other's egos. No useful information, inspiration, motivation, conversation or humor are in those posts, just repeated strings of usernames for the sake of seeing your name again and again.

It disgusted me when I realized what it was. Not only when I saw people do this earnestly every day, but also because I kept adding fuel to it when I continued to thank them publicly. I was also shamed because I also took delight in getting my ego stroked too as I jumped into the mutual masturbation circle.

I started to thank people privately through direct messages (DM's) on twitter and will probably continue to do so. But I had to take a step away from twitter - in disgust and shame.

How easy it was to start to love the feeling that welled within me when I saw my name mentioned, when I basked in the glow of recognition, and when I let that feeling steer me away from what I want to do with the tool twitter provides.

- ESA

Public Praise - Hidden Gems

One of the things I've discovered about myself recently. If I do some good in this world, something whispers in my head that I should sing about it. There are several acts of kindness I may do throughout the day, some just small little things. Even as I write this, I'm tempted to start listing them. I even had it typed out and deleted them.

I get the impression that I should tweet about it on Twitter; that it will be a good example to others. I get the urge that I should make a video about each of the good works I do and show people how they too can help. I'm led to believe that I should blog about it, illuminating the path others could take and made this world a better place.

I will tell you why I really should NOT and - to the level best that I can achieve in my imperfect life - do not.

When one does a good work and then publically sings, displays, exhibits, demonstrates or otherwise publicizes the good work, they will get public recognition. People will join in singing their praises and mimic their works in the attempt to get a piece of that spotlight. Many will likewise do the same and get some of the star-sparkle glittering on their names as well.

But in my life, it's not the spotlight nor the star-sparkle I seek. Those are things that are not-only short lived, they are only external - of this outside world. The spotlight does not illuminate that which is within the person, just the outside face they show to the world. I seek a greater Light to illuminate my works.

When we do good works in this world, it builds something beautiful beyond words within us. But when we use such good works as a lure of the spotlight, it's like letting the air out of a tire - it deflates us. We are sparkling in the spotlight for a short time and left deflated for a much greater period of time...

Further, I will NOT buy into the belief that if one does not know my works, I will not be a good example to others. In fact, the opposite is true, one's acts shine with their own brilliance. If we seek the public spotlight, we exhibit the wrong desire and are a poor example.

Those that do things "hidden" or in small unrecognized ways, already know that their works shine. It's seen in the sparkle of the tearful eyes of one benefiting from the kindness, in the emotional tremor of a quietly spoken "thank you" or in the inner warmth one receives when they do some good and none but God knows it was by their hand.

These hidden gems are the ones that people see and realize - THIS IS A GOOD THING - without a word being spoken or a camera filming it. These shine on their own and its by their light that the true example is shown. This is a far more beautiful thing than can ever be found in this world. Hidden in the clasp of a loving hand in a lonely one, in the smile of a stranger's face, in the little act that makes someone's life a bit more easier to bear...

Where can you plant hidden gems?
Let their light shine!
Brightly.

-ESA

A Little Prayer to Share (Poem)

Today I just wanted to share a special prayer:

Lord Jesus Christ,
I love You
With all my heart
All my spirit
All my soul

I thank you for Your Love
Your gentle patience
And ever-presence
At my side

I'm sorry for the times I've hurt You
And the times I've turned away from You
Even though You remained
Steadfastly at my side

Please help me keep my feet
On the path set before me
Until I can walk at Your side
Forever
In Your Glory

Amen

- ESA

The Little Wolf that Cried "People!" (Story)

Hi, folks!

As we're just about at Halloweeen, I think this is a good story to post. Not every traditional fairy tale ends in happily ever after....

Warning: This may not be appropriate for all ages; parental discretion is advised.

______________________________________________

THE LITTLE WOLF THAT CRIED "PEOPLE!"

Once upon a time there was a small pack of timber wolves roaming in the territory their kind have always known as home. At this point in time, their numbers had dwindled to a small pack of indeed and into this pack was born one of the smallest wolves they had ever seen. Though small, he did have a very keen nose and sharp eyes. While he would never be the hunter his father is and would always be low wolf in the pack hierarchy, they did find his gifts useful.

When it had been determined that he was grown enough and had learned all that the pack could teach him, he was granted the responsibility to watch over the pack as it slept during the daytime. At first, the little wolf took this responsibility very seriously. And much occurred during the day that he would tell the others about in the cool evening twilight before he himself would get a few hours of rest. For you see, during the daytime there were other animals awake and active. Even more fascinating were the people and the many curious items they brought with them into the wolves' territory.

One twilight, the little wolf told the others of the pack, “I saw people today. They came nearby on the flat rock-river in a large container that roared and chugged something fierce. Then the container stopped and sighed itself to silence. The sides of the container opened and people came out. There were four of them, male and female from the scents. Their scents didn’t even match each other, so they may have been from different packs. In their forepaws they carried these little silver items with something that looked like a dead fish’s eye. They pointed the eye at me and there was a brilliant flash of bright light. The females made some soft pleased noises and the males nodded their heads. Then they all got back into the container. The container sprang back to life with a ear-splitting roar and a horribly bad-smelling plume from its hindquarters. Then they continued on their way down the rock-river.”

The wolf pups loved to hear his stories of what occurred during the day. The elder wolves would smile knowingly and tell him about what he had seen. No matter what new story he would bring to the pack each twilight, the wolf pups ate it up with the evening meal and the elder wolves would tell him it’s been seen before. “Just once,” the little wolf thought to himself, “I would like to tell a tale about people where the elder wolves would be in as much awe as the pups.” Some nights, he would lie there thinking about what he could say, instead of getting the rest he needed. And one night, while listening to the melodic howling of his pack and the echoing sounds of the reply from a distant pack he came up with a story.

A few nights after that, he padded down from the hilltop where he lay watching the surrounding area during the day. His eyes were bright with mischief. “Listen all,” he barked, “I have seen something never seen before.”

All heads turned as one in his direction and he was met with the cool knowing lupine gazes of the elders as well as the wonder in the pups’ eyes.

The little wolf faced the pack and dropped to his hindquarters, his forelegs straight so he could meet all the wolves nose to nose if not eye to eye – after all, he was still a low wolf in this pack. “The people are invading!” he blurted out.

The elder wolves exchanged worried glances and the pack leader asked the little wolf, “How do you know this?”

The little wolf puffed up his chest with false pride. “I have seen them. They come while you are all asleep during the day. They carry new things and bigger containers. They have come to take our territory and make it their home.”

The little pups yelped in fear and ran to their mothers, hiding among their legs. The pack leader and elder wolves exchanged thoughts in the silent lupine body language known their kind. Then the pack leader turned back to the little wolf and nipped him on the muzzle. “Little fool!” he growled. “If this is so, you should have awakened us immediately so we can defend our territory.”

“B- B- But it was daytime,” yelped the little wolf.

“Are we afraid of the sun? Are we afraid of people? No matter what they bring into our territory, we will defend our home!”

As the high wolves nipped and growled at the little wolf, he promised that should this occur again, he would wake the others. Quickly he dropped to the ground and rolled onto his back, acknowledging his place in the pack.

Day by day, his humiliation before the pack ate at the little wolf's inside. Now even the young pups ridiculed him for his actions. Things didn’t change much and the novelty of the daytime events wore away. “This task is boring,” thought the little wolf, “and I’m never going to get any recognition in my pack.

Days turned into months, and the moon flowed through its changes time and again. Game moved to the south and the winter snows followed. One day, the little wolf got an idea as he noted that the people and their containers also left tracks in the snow. On a particularly boring day, the little wolf waited until he was sure the pack was deep in sleep. Then he lifted his chin and howled for all his worth!

Immediately the pack was awake and came running up the hill to the vantage point where the little wolf stood perched with hackles up. “What is the danger?” asked the pack leader immediately, fangs bared and ready.

The little wolf pointed with his nose and ears in the direction of the rock-river. People had come again to invade our territory. I scared them away with my growl. You can see their tracks in the snow. They are gone now. But because you required it of me, I awakened you with my howl.

The pack leader approached the little wolf, and the little wolf’s ears swiveled, fearing he was about to get bitten on the muzzle for doing wrong again. Instead the pack leader just placed his jaws lightly over the little wolfs nose, letting the little wolf know that he was still the low wolf but had done the right thing. The little wolf licked the pack leader’s muzzle in gratitude.

The pups also came up to him, pride shining in their small faces and they actually licked the low wolf’s muzzle. That show made the little wolf’s heart glow warm with pride. “I must do this again,” he thought to himself. “Even though the people will never invade as I have made that story up, the pack will give me a little more respect each time and I will rise in the ranks.”

The little wolf waited through another dance of the moon’s cycle before he tried his plan again. On a particular brutish day with the winds howling their own fierce song and the driving snow stinging the nose, eyes and eartips, the little wolf tilted back his head and howled his message to the others of his pack.

They were slower to arrive to the hilltop as the snow was deeper and the weather was dangerous with it’s hidden ice both beneath the white blanket and overlying the snow as a breakable crust that could cut the unwary paw. The pups, the little wolf noted, were left back in the winter dens where they were warm and safe.

The pack leader was the first to clear the hilltop and gazed around through the storm. “What did you see?” he growled to the little wolf.

“People tried to invade again.”

“In THIS weather?” growled the pack leader baring his sharp fangs at the little wolf.

“Th- They did! They came but they left when I chased them down toward the rock-road. You would see their tracks, but the blowing snow has covered them up.”

The pack leader chuffed in the little wolf’s direction and padded slowly and purposely toward the rock-road, sniffing as he went trying to detect the scents of man and his machines. Within the hour, the pack leader returned to the hilltop and faced the pack.

“I find little evidence to support our watcher’s story, but if people have indeed returned to invade our home after they were chased off the first time, we must warn the others.” As one voice, the wolf pack howled the message to the other packs and the message was passed from pack to pack all along the winter landscape. “Beware, people are invading.”

Shaken by the fact that the pack leader searched for evidence to his story, the little wolf decided he should be more careful the next time he tried his trick. Time passed again. Winter snows melted and the ground became muddy and bright green as the new growth pushed up from the warming ground toward the sun. The game moved north again, following the sun’s own journey to its summer home. And the little pups that once admired the little wolf were now members of the pack and hunters themselves and would often make the little wolf show his belly to them.

With the return of the warmer weather, the little wolf spied more people again. Now is the time for my trick. “Surely” he thought to himself, “I would not be the low wolf if I could get the pack leader to confirm my story of the invasion.”

So one day, he put his brilliant plan into action. When the people were still there, aiming the silver object with the dead fish eye at him, he tilted his head back and howled. Instantly, the others came running and charged the people.

Many of the people screamed and jumped into their containers. But one grabbed a thunder stick from the back of his container and pointed it at the charging wolves. The little wolf had never seen a thunder stick before, but when the crack of thunder and the flash of lightning issued from the stick, he knew what it was from the tales the elder wolves told him when he was a pup.

The little wolf felt the bite of the thunder stick across his right shoulder. The other wolves swiftly scattered but just as quickly reconverged when they realized the little wolf was injured. “Can you run?” the pack leader barked at him as others growled and hunkered themselves down between the little wolf and the thunder stick.

“Yes,” hissed the little wolf as he climbed to all four paws despite the pain.

“Then everyone back to the hilltop. We defend our territory, our pups and our home!”

As one, the wolves lumbered up the muddy hillside and turned to face the invaders. The one person outside the containers lowered the thunder stick back into the back of his container and stood next to the opening on one side of another container, talking to the people inside. Curiously, the wolves listened, but understood little.

The little wolf had better hearing than most of his pack, and had even learned to understand some of the people’s spoken language. But there was one word he did not understand that was mentioned again and again: “rabid.”

That night, the pack howled the message to the other wolf packs around their territory. A sad tale was also passed on to them, one of sickness. A sickness from the game had come into one wolf pack and made them go mad with thirst and mindlessness. They chased shadows and turned on friends and disregarded the pack order. People had come to this pack and now that pack is no more but vanished in one day.

The little wolves pack was shaken to their souls and they howled a sad lamentation for the pack that was no more. Afterwards, they worried about their own plight with the people. The new pups would be born soon and preparations had to be made to keep them safe.

A young but larger wolf was assigned to watch during the day with the little wolf. After what occurred, the little wolf decided it was time he stopped this trick. When he tried to rise in the pack order, all he got was a sore shoulder and someone that was assigned to the same duty, as if he were no longer worthy of even this position. A depression came upon the little wolf and he cared less and less about the activity around him during the day.

His companion, however, was ever curious, as this was all new to her and she would ask the little wolf many questions about what she saw. One day the young wolf spied people. The little wolf sniffed the air and confirmed, “Yes, that’s people.” He didn’t even raise his muzzle from the warm grass where he lay.

The young wolf rose on all four paws and barked, “They’re coming up the hill and they have thunder sticks.”

The little wolf’s ears shot up and he raised his head, but the moment was passed before he knew it. The roar of the thunder stick echoed off the distant hills as his young companion dropped beside him, a strange tube embedded in her throat.

The little wolf raised his muzzle to cry the warning and heard the thunder stick again. A hot jab of pain pierced his own throat and the world around him became a warm fuzzy blur. “It’s the sickness,” his panicked mind thought just before he drifted into it’s warm welcome. One last thought crossed his drifting mind as his chin touched down on the warm grass, “I never did issue the warning this time…..”

- ESA