Beauty in the Everyday

"Though we travel the world over to find the beautiful,
we must carry it with us or we find it not."

{Ralph Waldo Emerson}

Every day I like to look for beauty around me. Here are some things I found beautiful this week.

"Everybody needs beauty as well as bread, places to play in and pray in,
where nature may heal and give strength to body and soul."
{John Muir}

Happy weekend to you!

Flying Through the Storm

"The wise man in the storm prays to God,
not for safety from danger,
but deliverance from fear."
{Ralph Waldo Emerson}

What Support Looks Like

While my aunt was battling breast cancer, my uncle (who travels for work a lot) put a magnetic pink breast cancer awareness ribbon on the back of his car. With tears in her eyes she told me how much that meant to her.

I was diagnosed just over a year ago with Ankylosing Spondylitis, a chronic inflammatory disease that attacks the spine & joints. I live with pain, stiffness, low-grade fevers, swelling, sleep difficulty, limping and more, depending on the day.

About a month ago, I received a package in the mail that an Ankylosing Spondylitis support group mailed me. It contained a tee shirt and a couple of Lance Armstrong "Live Strong" style blue wristbands for Ankylosing Spondylitis. Blue for arthritis {AS is an inflammatory form of arthritis, like Rheumatoid Arthritis}, with the words Stand Tall etched on the band.

I dumped out the contents of the bag and was surprised when my husband Jonathan snatched up one of the blue wristbands and immediately put it on his wrist. Since that day he was worn it every day, no matter where he goes. He wears it to work with khakis and a button-down shirt, church with a suit and tie; at home, in jeans and a tee shirt. 

 

People ask him what it's for. He replies something like, "Well, blue is for arthritis awareness, and this particular wristband is for Ankylosing Spondylitis." He goes on to say what AS is, and that his wife has it. People have replied with, "Oh! I wear a purple one for Lupus" and "We know what Ankylosing Spondylitis is, our daughter was diagnosed when she was 21. She's 41 now."

He is spreading awareness. And that's powerful.

But what it means to me, I can't fully explain in words.

I didn't ask him to wear it. I didn't expect him to wear it. He just chose to.

Whenever I see him wearing it, I feel a strong sense of support. I feel less alone in my battle.

It reminds me of wedding rings. When I see him wearing his wedding ring, I feel loved and affirmed in his sense of devotion and commitment. But wedding rings are a societal norm. They're expected.

Awareness and support wristbands and car magnets are not.

When Jonathan chose to marry me, I wasn't battling disease or pain. When Jonathan chose to wear the wristband, I was still me, but I was a different version of me, too.

Society didn't expect him to donn a wristband to show his support for me. He just did that on his own. To me, it means that despite disease and pain, he still chooses me and is more committed to me than ever. He is choosing to stay by my side, no matter what comes, and walk this journey with me.

It means the world to me.

Sara at Rest

{click twice to enlarge the picture}

He Watches Me

While struggling with pain, nausea and sorrow this morning, He sends this song to mind:

Why should I feel discouraged,

Why should the shadows come,

Why should my heart feel lonely

And long for Heaven and home,

When Jesus is my portion?

A constant friend is He:

His eye is on the sparrow,

And I know He watches over me;

His eye is on the sparrow, 

And I know He watches me.

I sing because I'm happy,

I sing because I'm free,

His eye is on the sparrow,

And I know He watches me

His eye is on the sparrow,

And I know He watches me

"Let not your heart be troubled,"

His tender word I hear,

And resting on His goodness,

I lose my doubts and fears;

Though by the path He leadeth

But one step I may see:

His eye is on the sparrow,

And I know He watches me;

His eye is on the sparrow,

And I know He watches me.

Whenever I am tempted,

Whenever clouds arise,

When songs give place to sighing,

When hope within me dies,

I draw the closer to Him,

From care He sets me free:

His eye is on the sparrow,

And I know He cares for me;

His eye is on the sparrow,

And I know He cares for me.

{lyrics written by Civilla D. Martin in 1905}

To hear our sweet friend Sara sing it, click here and scroll down to "His Eye is on the Sparrow"

He gives strength for today, doesn't He?

Gratitude for Every Season

There is a time for everything, a season for every activity under heaven.
 A time to be born and a time to die. A time to plant and a time to harvest.
 A time to kill and a time to heal. A time to tear down and a time to rebuild.
 A time to cry and a time to laugh. A time to grieve and a time to dance.
 A time to scatter stones and a time to gather stones. A time to embrace and a time to turn away.
A time to search and a time to lose. A time to keep and a time to throw away.
A time to tear and a time to mend. A time to be quiet and a time to speak up.
A time to love and a time to hate. A time for war and a time for peace.
{Ecclesiastes 3, New Living Translation}

We go through seasons in life -- the weather changes, both literally and figuratively. For a long time, I only enjoyed certain seasons. But as I've grown (both older and hopefully wiser), I've begun to realize the beauty of every season. There are certain comforts that can only be appreciated during times of harsh weather.

Gratitude is the perfect accessory for every season. It looks great with shorts and flip-flops on a sunny beach day.

It layers perfectly with boots, jeans, a cardigan and a scarf for fall, the time of the year where some coldness and darkness creeps in.

Gratitude tucks easily in with the layers of winter, to keep you warm.

And in the spring it works like an umbrella to shelter you from the downpours.

I may live with chronic pain. I may be chronically ill. But I can also choose to be chronically grateful.

Just as there is beauty to be found in every season, beauty year-round, there is always something for which to be grateful.

In good times and bad, I can choose to be filled with joy, not just pain; filled with gratitude, not just limitations.

What are you grateful for?

A Night in the Life of Chronic Pain and Gratitude

 

I go to bed with a heating pad and a special pillow and I close my tired eyes and try to quiet my mind which is running in a way I no longer can.

The pain in my chest keeps me awake and my cheeks are damp from knowing she is nearing the end of her time with us.

I toss and turn but even that is altered now -- it's a process to turn over and there's pain if I lay on my back and pain if I lay on my hips, and if I lay on my side my ribs ache.

I give up for now, and push aside the covers, reaching for my glasses on my bedside table, and quietly get into a sitting position and then stand and grab a sweatshirt and slip out of the bedroom as silently as I can, trying not to wake my husband.

I put on the tea kettle and flip the knob to high and watch as the burner glows red in the dark kitchen. In the dark night.

Opening the microwave, I ball up a second heating pad and place it on the rotating glass plate and press "3." The appliance hums to life loudly in our silent home and I hope, like so many previous nights, that I am not disturbing the rest of the three gifts God has given me -- my husband Jonathan, and our daughters who sleep with well-loved bunnies and dollies in a shared bedroom lit by soft nightlight.

I pad over to my recliner and sit with my now-hot heating pad placed against my chest, where it feels like a heart attack is brewing right along with my tea. Costochondritis, inflammation of the chest wall, is just one of my symptoms with Ankylosing Spondylitis.

I rock and sip and wait for medication to kick in, and remember when my oldest was only 4 and she would find me balled up on the floor and tell me, "Medicine takes a long time to kick in, Sweetheart, but it will kick in." She would squat down and stroke my hair and sing me a little song.

My family has lived with chronic pain for several years now. It has come in different forms -- first, after a miscarriage, as pelvic pain, and then as spine and joint pain.

It wasn't invited, but it's here nonetheless, and although we didn't ask it to come, we have learned our way around it. We have learned, every single one of us, how to take better care of each other. We have learned, from 6'2" Jonathan to 44" Natalie Kate, how to be more compassionate.

We have learned how to love better and how to be more patient and we have absolutely learned to be flexible with plans, as I don't know from one day to the next how I will be feeling. Because of that unpredictability we've also learned how to seize the day. Mama isn't limping today? Let's take a family walk!

I sit and rock and sip and wait for the heat and the medicine to soak in and through me and I wipe away a tear that represents the grief I feel over Sara's life ending soon. More tears swell up and pool in my eyes that represent this profound love I have for my family and friends and life itself, and my gratitude that I am here to experience all of this, the good and the bad.

Eventually I head back for a second try at sleep. I slip back under the covers, fold my glasses back onto my bedside table, adjust myself with two heating pads and a special pillow, and finally drift off to sleep with my chest hurting and my heart aching.

I don't enjoy the pain, and I resent how it effects our family (especially when I see the hurt and worry in my daughters' eyes), but I relish these sweet gifts it has taught me:

Live this life you've been given. It's precious!