Being Lori

My Mom had a stroke in 2012. The stroke she has was not small. It was massive, and my mom’s body was greatly affected.  Currently, she has almost no use of her left arm, and her left leg basically helps her to stand up or walk with assistance for very short periods of time.  Her right side and her mind were not affected. We still have or sweet and sassy momma, and for that we are very grateful. 

Right after her stroke however, it was a different story.  She spent those initial weeks on life support in the University of Arkansas Hospital. It was a scary time wondering if we would lose our mom, but God in his wonderful mercy let us keep her here on Earth.  After she could breath on her own she was moved to UAMS (University Arkansas of Medical Sciences) where she would stay until she was stabilized enough for rehabilitation therapy.

During the time she was at UAMS she needed lots of care as she was unable to do anything for herself.  It was a time of many fears, tears and prayers. We were in a waiting period to see if her body would regain any function on it’s own.  As we waited with her, we learned what it was to care for someone greatly disabled. With each passing day we learned to help her eat and drink her thickened liquid diet.  With the help and instruction from the nurses, we helped to keep her clean,  and made sure she was as comfortable as possible.  

Since my two sisters and I were helping, one of us was with her almost all the time, even during the night.  It was one of those times that we were not there, that leads me to the story I want to tell you.  It is a delicate and personal story. She gave me permission about seven years ago to write about it, but I would get to the keyboard to write and nothing “right” would come out. Today feels different. The story isn’t long, but when Mom told me, it struck such a cord in me and I knew I wanted to write it down so that my children, and all of her other grand children and great grand children, would know.  It shows the heart of their grandma.  The deepest part, I think.

As I said earlier, initially mom needed help with every aspect of daily living. She was bedridden during those first weeks and could not use the bathroom as she does today, nor did she have much control of that aspect of her functioning. The nurses at UAMS were wonderful to respect Mom’s dignity as best as possible, but still, this part of mom’s care left her feeling very vulnerable and it was often “humiliating”, as mom put it.  Can you imagine?  I‘m sure you can.  

The story I’m going to tell you happened one of those rare nights when none of us sisters were staying overnight. It was on that rare night that mom had an “accident”.  I remember so well her telling me how completely embarrassed and humiliated she was. Beyond words. She said she laid in her bed crying over the whole situation, knowing that at anytime a nurse would come in, and on entrance would know exactly what had happened.  And that is precisely what did happen.

When the nurse came in, mom began apologizing right away, but of course as any good nurse would do, she quickly told mom not to worry about it for even one second.  She said she understood completely, and that there was no need to apologize at all. She swiftly went to work carefully washing away the offense, kindly reassuring Mom that it was okay.  In short order mom was all cleaned up good as new.  She recalled that the entire event was all carried out in a spirit of caring and concern, rescuing Mom’s , at that time, fragile dignity. But that’s not the end of the story as it was told to me.

As mom recounted the event, she spoke of how clearly the story of redemption came to her mind.  She called the incident the “Jesus bath”.  She went on to tell me about her humiliation, about the “filth” of her situation. Yikes!  Filth seemed a pretty strong term use, but that was her word of choice . It occurred to her that’s just how we are when we come to Jesus for salvation.  Filthy, and helpless to clean ourselves up, the exact situation she found herself in.  Enter the nurse.  In she came and without hesitation, humbled herself to do the work mom needed in order to be clean.  She did not shame Mom, or make her feel bad in any way. On the contrary, the nurse saw mom’s need, and with kind reassurace did the necessary thing. Mom compared the nurses hands, to the hands to the hands of Jesus. Humbly doing a lowly job.

Mom’s astute mind realized the truth that humility was needed by both the nurse and herself. This is what struck a cord so deep in me.  “What if” she said, “I would have let my embarrassment, false guilt, or humiliation keep me from excepting the help I needed.  And what if that nurse had not been willing to humble herself in order to do a very lowly job”.  

So we call this story “Jesus Bath”.  An allegory.  We are born dead in the filth of sin.  Jesus willingly humbled himself to wash us.  To make us alive and clean before God, restoring our relationship with Him.  But only if we humbly accept His offer to “bathe us”.

Along with Dad, my sister’s and I have been able to help take care of Mom these past eight years.  A year or so ago we realized that Dad would not be able to care for mom in the way he had been doing.  In fact, he, like mom, would require us to look after him as well.  

We have had to help Dad in ways that we never would have imagined.  It has often reminded me of the Jesus Bath story.  Maybe that is why I felt a hesitation in sharing this story for so long.  Perhaps I needed to understand a little more about the humility of servanthood.  Don’t get me wrong, I don’t have the servant role perfected by any stretch of the imagination.  I am a work in progress! But I am learning that in serving one another, we are serving Jesus.  That we all need “Jesus Bath” understanding.  

May we all allow Jesus to clean us.  To humbly acknowledge daily our need for Him.  To wade out into the deep cleansing waters of His refreshing love and care…

…and swim there.

Well here it is, the end of the season already. This summer went by in in whirlwind, and boy was it blessed and busy for this middle aged grandma! Blessed because while my daughter, Malori, worked a part time job, Stan and I took care of our two grand children, Reeva and Teagan. Oh how quickly we forget how much time and energy a busy two year old and curious five year old can require of you. Was it worth the extra sleep and time adjustment it required? You bet! Especially since we knew that the our sweet Reeva would be starting kindergarten, and time with her would be at a premium come Fall.

Being away from mom and dad for longer periods of time isn’t always easy for little ones, so we decided to make the most of the precious time we had with them, and tried to make time at “Mooma” and “Papa’s” house fun, and filled with the joy and security that lots of love brings. And fun it was! I can’t tell you how many times we were surprised by the funny things that those two little ones said or did! Every time they came it was an adventure into the “Kid Kingdom of Thought”. One particular conversation with Reeva keeps coming to my mind.

Several years ago I was looking through the books at a thrift store and came across a good sized flip chart of the systems and anatomy of the human body. I was really interesting to me, and I decided to buy it.  I introduced that book to Reeva and she loved it! We spent several hours over the summer looking at those charts. She looked at them so much, that she memorized what each page was about. At five years old she didn’t understand completely what the lymphatic system was, or how each part of the digestive system worked, or how “that baby got in that ladies belly”, but she was able to grasp how intricately and wonderfully God made our bodies.

One day, after spending about an hour of “serious study” on the human body with Reeva, and after answering lots and lots of questions, I was feeling so proud of my intelligent grand daughter, and said to her with great enthusiasm,

“Reeva, you are so interested in the human body. Maybe someday when you go to college, you will study to be a doctor or a nurse; or maybe you will want to be a scientist.”

At that moment, she stopped looking at the book, turned to me and said very emphatically,

“No, Mooma. When I grow up I am going to be a mermaid.”

Oh how quickly our bubble of pride can burst. I held back an enormous laugh, and instead just smiled and said, “Oh? Well that is good, too.”

Isn’t that how it is though, when you are little and your world is expanding? You dream what you will be when you grow up; today a mermaid, tomorrow a super hero, the next day a dinosaur hunter, or as my niece Sarah, when asked what she wanted to be when she grew up, “an apple”.  (She is now a wife and mother, not an apple.)

If you are reading this, you realize that we cannot become an apple or a mermaid.  But try and tell a five year old she can’t become a mermaid and you will no doubt meet with resistance. Her perception of reality just won’t let her believe she can’t grow a tail and breath under water. However, time, age, and reality have a way of making us see the necessity of adjusting.

I certainly have had to make adjustments, and sometimes, like a little child, I have been hard set against making the needed changes. Why? Because my reality has at times been painfully hard to view. For instance, and as I have written about before, my gray hair and “laugh lines” have told me over and over that I am not 20, or 30, or even 40 years old anymore. The fact is, I am running hard and fast toward 60 and I can’t do the things I did at 20! Somewhat painful, my friends, but true.

Then there is the reality of how the world around me is changing. I see changes that I never thought I would see in my lifetime. I remember back in the 70’s when I was a teenager.  Things like having a chip that would hold all kinds of information implanted in you was like science fiction. Something far away in the future, but not when I was still living.  And just imagine how my parents, people who grew up in 1940’s and 1950’s felt while raising children in the 1960’s and 1970’s! Talk about a changing world! From war efforts to war protests; from innocence to the sexual revolution; from big bands, to “American Band Stand” and “Soul Train”; from crew cuts to long locks on boys; from skirts below or at the knees to mini skirts for girls. I believe my parents raised kids during the biggest social change in our recent history. People my mom and dad’s age probably had to pick their chins up off the floor more than any other parents before them.

Now, I watch my daughter and son-in-law as they raise their children, and see how different it is from when I was raising my own.  I see more and more often, that in order to effectively communicate with the next generation, we have to adjust. That doesn’t mean we have to say “yes” to things contrary to direction from God. Not in the least. But we must understand that those following us will do things differently. We need to see that their world is our world too. That their reality is our reality; because what is real, is real for everyone; it isn’t generational.

As much as we’d like things to stay the same, we need to let things that don’t matter, change. And there are only a few things that really do matter. Our most important job is to help prepare the next generation for the “great reality towards which all history is moving.”  Along with that, we need to join them in the true reality of how things are right now. We must help them, not hinder.  We need to allow them their “differences” so that they will be able to lead their generation and the next to come. Our children and grandchildren need us, so we must not disappear into the deep.

They don’t realize it yet, but someday this current generation will have to make adjustments of their own. We can either be examples of how to do it, or we can be mermaids.

And I don’t know about you, but I can’t breath underwater.

May the Lord cause you to flourish, both you and your children.

Psalm 115:14

In the temple hear the shouts,
“Buy what you need from me
If you’re angry, if you’re hurt
Revenge is worth the fee
Worried? Buy some panic
If you’re sad, I’ve got a vice
You’ve sinned? Purchase guilt
Need some meaning? Take your time!”

This place is very busy
So chaotic, crowded, loud
Sellers hawk their pricey wares
So confident and proud
But something isn’t right here
It’s the merchants in this place
They’re staying in the shadows
Each trying to hide their face

I See the King of Light arrive
He can help me see
He looks my way, I call out
And now He stands with Me
“Have you seen the merchants here?
They seem a shifty kind”
“I see” He says, “they need to go
Before they steal you blind”

Walking in the temple
Now illumined by His light
Slowly shadows start to fade
Clearing blurry sight
As my vision sharpens
Truth starts to unfold
It’s lousy imitations
In the temple being sold

“I’ve been robbed! I’ve been cheated!
The prices, far too high!
How dare they do this to me!
It was wrong for them to lie!
Punish them, your Majesty!
You should make them pay!
It’s fiery wrath that they deserve!
Don’t let them get away!”

But He stood there very quiet
And I started feeling weak
He was looking deep within me
I didn’t dare to speak
I saw with clearer vision now
And felt myself undone
For standing there before me was
A King and Lion in One.

He said “I’ve things to show you
If you have a will to see.
But you will need me, child
To illuminate the scene”
“Yes Lord, I am willing
But you see I’m very scared.”
“I know, but I’ll be with you
Take my hand, I’ll lead you there”

As we walked together there
His light began to glow
Showing every detail
Things I didn’t want to know
Standing in His brightness
And shielding both my eyes
What His light unfolded
Left me speechless, horrified.

I viewed the scene before me
In shock and unbelief
Salty tears began to fall
My heart was gripped by grief
For what His holy light revealed
What now my eyes could see
Was every single Merchant there
Selling lies, was me

Embarrassed now and so ashamed
I stared down at my feet
The truth was out, I’d fooled myself
I, was my own thief
Swimming now in sorrow
Tears streaming down my face
Is when I felt it happen
He was pouring out His grace.

When I dared to look at Him,
This Lion King in One,
His glowing light began to grow
Something like the sun
He was reaching out to me
A scar was in His hand
It’s then I saw through teary eyes
A third one now, A Lamb.

Together they all went to work,
Or was it only He?
The King in charge was full of power
The Lamb stood over me
While I was safe, but still unsure
Laying on the floor
The ground beneath began to shake
As the mighty Lion roared.

I quaked in awe at things I saw
Space filling with his might
His unleashed holy clearing power
Was setting things to right
Each Merchant there, or was it me?
Met with the Lion great
Eye to eye the King and I
His breath upon my face

Liony breath blew back my hair
A rushing windy storm
Merchant defying; I, in awe
Yet we were one in form
Without a sound He spoke to me
Surrender now your life?
My Merchant knees with rebel resolve,
Stiffened for a fight.

Nose to nose the mighty Lion
Roared a thundering cry
Yet in that thunderous powerful roar
I heard a kingly sigh.
Then with ruling, righteous roars
The Lion made His move
And at each shifty sellers booth
Authority He proved

Tossing His mane and sounding a roar
The Merchants start to fall
One by one, their selling done
Banished, one and all.
“They’ll try to get back in” He said
“They’ll want to set up shop.
Watch the door and if they try
You’ll have to tell them, STOP!”

I noticed then, with sorrow great
The Lamb was lying dead
There was no life or breath in Him
My heart was filled with dread
This Lamb, now slain, had saved me
When the mighty Lion’s roars
Where banishing the Merchants
From the sacred temple floor

I knelt beside the loving Lamb
And fell upon His wool
I sobbed out all my gratitude
For saving me, a fool
Protecting me the Lamb had died
For my unworthy soul
He gave his very life for me
He paid a deathly toll

On his silent heart I wept
Until a sudden sound
A pounding in His wooly breast!
He wouldn’t be kept down!
The King in His authority
Ordained that He would rise
And what He says, is what will be
So don’t believe the lies.

Now you know my story
And why I love The ONE!
He saved me from sure punishment
And over death has won!
Because He lives, now I do too
I will forevermore
And I can’t wait to hear again
The Mighty Lion’s roar!

Unpublished work © 2012 Lori Visser

Have you ever gone through a low time and tried to give yourself a pep talk in order to feel better or motivate yourself? Maybe you’ve told yourself to “pull yourself up by your boot straps”, only to realize that you gave your boots to the Salvation Army months ago.

Perhaps some well meaning saint has tried to help you by telling you to “just choose joy”.  I bet what you really wanted, (beside giving them a throat punch) was for that “super saint” to crawl down into the trench and cry with you for a little while.

Have you ever gone to God’s Word searching for something to read that would pull you out of your funk; to save you from your sinking feeling? Have you sat alone praying, waiting for God to “lift your spirits”, only to be met with silence?

Maybe, after none of the above “worked”, you went to Facebook looking for someone to commiserate with. Instead what you find is that everyone seems to be going on fantastic vacations or having awesome parties; or “friends” who’s children are doing cuter things than yours; or that friend who’s profile selfie is nothing less than glamorous and who’s husband brought her flowers…again, or… etc…  So you glumly deactivate your Facebook account and continue your journey looking for something to make you “come alive”.

It’s off to the Mall. Or Target, or Wal-Mart, or Ulta… up and down shopping row you go, looking for that illusive shot of “happy”.  You try-on several different outfits, but nothing looks right. Too tight, too frumpy, to hipster. You try new makeup that will give you a “fresh look”, but all of it makes you look like you are trying too hard.  In fact you know nothing is going to look good today, because all you see in the mirror is a wretched, gloomy, tired person.

Maybe lunch will help, so you work your way through the bowl of chips and salsa while you are waiting for your meal to arrive. Your burrito comes and you gobble it down, saving room for that big slice of the rich chocolate cake that the restaurant is famous for. MMMMMmmmmmm… Oh the sweet relief of a sugar high…at least for a few minutes, until you come crashing down.  Now for the self deprecation and hatred.

In order to dull your sense of self hatred, you turn to the television.  Distraction. Distraction is what you need.  Check out of life for an hour… or seven.  A little Chip and Joanna Gains for a while, then maybe the classic movie channel.  Or maybe a West Wing, or Stranger Things binge is more your style.  So you watch. And watch, and watch, and watch until you have completely lost yourself.  Now it is 2 o’clock in the morning, and you drag yourself upstairs.  As you wash your face and fall in bed, you come to the horrible realization that you feel worse now, than when you woke up this morning.

Hopefully tomorrow you will feel better, but the next morning you wake up and repeat the whole scenario, hoping for a different outcome.

Dry bones. Dry, dry, tired bones.

Could you relate to that story? Sadly, it has been my story many times.

Jeremiah 2:15  “My people have committed two sins: They have forsaken me, the spring of living water,
and have dug for themselves their own cisterns, broken cisterns that cannot hold water.”

Broken cisterns. Wells with cracks.  Bowls filled with holes.  Colanders.  That’s what I am so often.  I pour all kinds of things into my spirit, hoping to be filled.  Be “fixed”.

I am a Jesus follower.  If you are one too, I bet we both know and can admit, when we stop to think about it, that stuff like Facebook, shopping, food, or even friends, will not meet the deepest needs of our heart. But what about fixing our empty souls with good things like church and the Bible? No. Even those very good things can’t fix us. I will dare to say, that even praying and waiting to hear from God, just so we can feel better isn’t going to work either. God is completely Holy and will not be used as a “feel good” ticket.  He loves us too much to give us anything less than His truth.

Here are some good questions to ask ourselves:

• Why do we think that going through a dry spell is something that we must escape?
• Why do we automatically think that God must have somehow abandoned us because we don’t “feel” a certain way?
• When will stop looking to “lesser” things to fill us up?

Waiting is hard. It doesn’t feel good.  But, dear saint, God has not left you alone. He is there and is always listening.  Keep talking to Him.  His silence is not forever, and it has a purpose, so stop struggling and rest in the quiet.  He is refining you in the heat of the desert.  Be patient and don’t try and fill yourself with lesser things.

What He wants to give us is Himself, not some fleeting feeling.  Jesus is who our souls long for, far more than we realize. He himself is our very great reward. Nothing else.  Not the things he can do for us, or give us.  Only Jesus alone.  Go to him today, not to get something.  Just go and be with Him- for nothing else than just to be with Him.  When we do, and when we are patient, we will eventually find that what we hold in our hands is not a colander, but a beautiful pitcher being filled from the Eternal Spring of Living Water.

Genesis 15:1b  “I am your shield,YOUR VERY GREAT REWARD.”

 

Don’t know Jesus, but would like to?  I’d love to introduce you to him!  Leave a message!

 

While standing at my altar, I was thinking how easy it is to forget…

I have stewed over the fact that my life and body have been sacrificed too many times, even for good things. For instance, I literally gave up space inside my body three times to allow three other little bodies to grow there. Welcomed, but still, a sacrifice.

On the “not so good” side, I had to sacrifice my breast to conquer cancer.

I sacrificed my thyroid to conquer the ravages of Graves’ disease.

I sacrificed ease of life and often my own sense of mental well being to comfort or help others in need.

I have sacrificed my own ideas and plans about how my life should be.

I have stood before this great altar many times, watching it smoldering; so much going up in smoke.

It is always sobering standing there.

Often I stand amazed as I realize how Jesus has brought me through it all. I am reminded God has a good plan for me, and that it all has a purpose. I wish I could say that is how I feel every single time, but that wouldn’t be true at all. Often I go there just to tell Jesus how sad or disappointed I am. It’s okay. He can take it. He always listens to my rants.

But sometimes I foolishly walk away from those rants without letting His love wash over me, refreshing and reminding me of His goodness. It’s a stupid way to walk away from the altar. It leads to nothing more than the same sense of sadness and disappointment with which I came there.

Today I wasn’t stupid. I decided to stay there and let Him wash me. I asked Him if all the sacrifice would be worth it. The Holy Spirit spoke into my own spirit, letting me know that it most assuredly would be. Then He quietly but clearly reminded me of Jesus’ sacrifice. 

I pictured Him leaving glory. He sacrificed the perfection of heaven, and for nine months took up space inside of a young girl. A young girl, by the way, who said, “yes” to God, having no idea what her sacrifice would mean for herself, and an entire world.

Spring forward to Jesus’ misunderstood ministry. Even though it took the resurrection for them to completely understand, the disciples said yes. They gave up the plan for their lives and followed Jesus… even to death. Was their sacrifice worth it? Of course it was.

And as I stood at my great big smoldering altar, I remembered.

Jesus gave up everything for me. Everything. He gave up glory; ease; riches; his body; his life. He sacrificed it all for me. For you. For everyone. He said, “yes,” and didn’t look back…

…even when He was sweating out blood.

When He was being beaten.

When He was feeling alone.

When He was being pierced.

When He was naked and dying on a shameful cross.

And you know what? It was worth it.

And so I stand now, before my puny looking altar, which just a few moments ago looked so large and smokey, and in it I see the Refiners fire. As the smoke wafts its way up, I see it like incense filled with smells that bring joy to my Savior, Healer, Redeemer and Friend, and I feel washed.

And it’s all worth it.

Two years ago I was diagnosed with Grave’s thyroid disease. There are many symptoms that go along with this disease, but the one I want to tell you about today is hair loss. I estimate that in about two years I lost almost half the thickness of my hair. It may sound silly, but it is common for women who loose hair to feel devastated, and I was no exception.

In order to give my hair as much help as possible, it was suggested to me by my hairstylist, to take a break from any harsh chemicals, including the coloring of my roots about every 8 to ten weeks. Really?? I have colored my hair for years! L’Oreal ash blonde 100% gray coverage. What would I do without my “blonde in a box?” Still, I wanted to save my hair, so I surrendered.

To assuage my fear I reminded myself that over the last few years the gray in my hair had became more resistant to the color anyway. I had started noticing that just a week or two after coloring, my gray hair (which seemed more and more to be taking up space on my head) would be happily shimmering through in the sunlight! Grrr.  When I stopped coloring I didn’t really know what to expect, but It has been a little under a year now that I haven’t used any color. Little did I know how much gray hair I actually had!

Last March, after trying anti-thyroid meds to control my hyper hormones without success, I decided to have my thyroid removed. Then around May I had another big “shed” because of the abrupt change in my thyroid hormones. I was loosing so much hair that I was a little freaked out I would literally go bald! However in the Fall, (no pun intended) my hair loss tapered off, and now I am seeing lots of hair coming back in. I notice them because they stick straight up out of my head! And…they are gray.

I have decided to run with it for a while to see what I think, so I am a “blonde” transitioning to gray. Right now my hair is about half and half, and you can see a pretty definite line of delineation. I have no doubt loved NOT having the hassle of coloring, but still I have gone back and forth about giving up that box of L’Oreal for good. Here’s why. In our culture, youth is supreme. It is worshiped. Aging is for the old, and none of us want to be old! Myself included! It is a terrible lie that we have embraced. Not only is it a terrible lie, it’s completely vain. Psalms says that gray hair is a crowning glory, or a crown of splendor! What in the world! We are so far away from that idea!

I have often been lovingly corrected by my daughter when talking negatively about myself, especially when my grand daughter is within earshot. She doesn’t like it, and doesn’t want her own daughter to pick up a habit of bad self talk and thinking. I don’t want her to either, so something has to give, and it has to start in my own mind first. My thinking needs to be aligned with God’s ideas; with what he thinks about me. And guess what, he knows exactly how many gray hairs I have, how old I am, and that everyday I am growing just a little bit older. He knows you are, too. The twenty somethings, all the way up to the 100 somethings. All of us.

So what if we have this all wrong? What if this aging thing is something we are supposed to be celebrating? And I am wondering; can this change of thinking start in this aging baby boomer.

Now don’t get me wrong. If you want to color your hair until they put you in your casket, I will not judge you! I promise! Who knows, I may use some color again myself! However, I’m determined it won’t be to give myself a false sense of youth.

My diagnosis of Grave’s has changed my life and my physical appearance. With it came the realization of just how much pressure our culture places on women to be “perfect” and eternally young. It is exhausting to try and turn back a clock that will not run backwards. It’s a silly waste of energy, and ladies and gentleman, I am tired.

It will be a hard habit to break, but from this day forward I am going to try and make a habit of seeing myself as Jesus sees me. I am going to blow dry my half blond half gray hair into the nicest style I can, and put my makeup on over my ever increasing wrinkles. I am going to walk down the stairs and let the gray headed love of my life whistle at me and tell me I look cute…without cringing. I am going to be vibrant and useful, and I am going to memorize the following verse.

Psalm 71:18 “So even to old age and gray hairs, O God, do not forsake me, until I proclaim your might to another generation, your power to all those to come.”

And then I am going to practice living it out before my daughter and grand daughter. And lastly and most importantly, no matter what I think the mirror is shouting at me, I will listen and believe the voice of my heavenly Father who tells me I am his beautiful, silver, shiny girl.