JOY COMES IN THE MOURNING

JOY COMES IN THE MOURNING
T. Wieland Allen
As I lay here in bed minus my partner of 55 years I have a strange feeling that the past two years of cancer consciousness has been just a bad dream and that he will come in the bedroom door at any minute and get ready for bed.
I know that it hasn't been a bad dream but it was real, two years of grueling tests and bad reports and blood transfusions and chemotherapy and radiation and those always present doctors' appointments.
The thought comes that he is finally off of that horrible, never-ending hamster wheel that went no where, only back to the same dreaded scenario again and again.
He was constantly nauseous, weak and sick. I was always emotionally, physically and spiritually exhausted.
Care giving is endless when a person's mate is forever seeking for a cure or just maybe some relief from the hopelessness that comes from a rare form of the dreaded disease.
The empty bed and the empty house speak loudly of loneliness, but even the fleeting thoughts of wishing that he was present with me are rejected because he would surely be back in the hospital bed trying to make himself eat something to please me or drink some small sips of liquid which would cause him to again cough up clods of mucous that constantly plagued him. That horrible memory makes me glad that he has left the prison of his diseased body which was at one time so physically fit, the picture of a healthy, handsome, virile athlete who loved life.
I dry my tears and thank God that the nightmare is over for both of us and he is enjoying the love, rest and comfort of the cocoon that God so graciously showed him in a dream. He is free from the disease and free from misery and free from the feeling of failure because he wasn't healed. He is free and I am also free from watching his misery and then having my own inherited misery that came from the unity that 55 years of togetherness affords.
Like a savior, joy comes and lifts me out of the loneliness and the sense of abandonment that so quickly invaded my mind tonight.
Joy is healing, like the Savior from which it comes, soothing my mind and drying my tears just like God promises. God said he would make treasures out of my tears. Tonight I momentarily contributed some more salty ingredients necessary for Him to fashion those treasures.
Yes, the joy that comes from God is strength and stability. And it always comes just in time, turning mourning into gladness.
Looking forward to God's promised treasures will be exciting, leaving the past behind and reaching forward to the high calling. He said to reach forward and that means to extend our open hands in eager anticipation of the treasures that He has fashioned for us out of the tears of misery because we trusted in Him. Reaching, reaching, reaching -- we can't reach forward if we are looking backward. We might miss a wonderful treasure.
Joy does come in the morning to those who were mourning but mourn no more.
Thanks be to God.

SHOCK TREATMENT

SHOCK TREATMENT
T. WIELAND ALLEN

My husband Steve has being undergoing chemotherapy for a few months. Radiation treatment was recently prescribed for his neck because a tumor popped up on the thyroid gland. We were momentarily devastated to hear about the new tumor. He had not had radiation up to this point, but since he was losing his voice the doctors prescribed radiation of the area in the neck, hoping it will shrink the tumor so that Steve can regain his strong voice.
One of the worse side effects of chemo and radiation of the neck is an excess of thick clods of mucus in his throat that choke him and interfere with swallowing. It results in gut retching coughing for ten to twenty minutes and then sneezing for 15 to 20 times for him, which is a family trait when anything gets caught in their throats. All of that is exhausting to any patient and Steve wilts with loss of energy many times a day when the mucus builds up. Then he has to rest for a long time to regain his strength. Then later the cycle repeats itself.
After researching the internet, I found that the mucus buildup is normal for chemo and radiation patients. There were some suggestions from doctors and also from patients and their caretakers on the researched articles. We had already come up with the most helpful thing which is Mucinex. It helps tremendously but does not completely alleviate the problem. Other suggestions were hot tea with honey and lemon, also lots of water, gargling Ginger Ale, a decongestant, salt water nasal sprays, and cough drops.
Steve has tried all of the suggestions but sometimes we forget to access all of the aids. Last night was a particularly bad night. Before going to bed he had an attack of coughing which caused him to vomit, then more coughing to bring up the mucus, then sneezing for many, many times. He barely made it to bed he was so weak.
In the middle of the night the same thing occurred. He was awake hacking for a long time, then laid awake for a long time weak with the process of getting rid of the mucus.
At 4:00 this morning I was still awake from the middle of the night episode. I had been praying for hours for him, knowing that he was feeling defeat from the constant coughing spell and possibly wavering in his faith. I know that I also was struggling with that battle between holding on in faith and giving up to the disease because of the effects of the chemo and radiation on his body.
I went to the guest bedroom to pray, hoping to get some comforting words from Our Heavenly Father which would bring me back into faith instead of temporarily entertaining defeat.
I merely told Our Father that I was asking for His words in the matter, and asking in faith that He would comfort me, counsel me, encourage me, whatever He knows will catapult me to the top in faith again.
As I laid on the bed, expecting to hear something from Him or anything from Him which would help me in the struggle I was having, determined not to give in to defeat.
God's personal words to me always have shock value. That's the way he talks to me, always saying something that I would never think of saying myself.
So the word of the Lord came to me in this shocking statement, "Are you going to let SNOT defeat you? You need to become the master of the snot instead of letting it be your master."
I bolted out of the bed and threw on my clothes, telling that snot that it has to come under the authority of my Lord and Savior Jesus Christ and greater is He than is in me than he that is causing that snot.
Now you need to know that that word, snot, is not in my speaking vocabulary. It's one of the words that crawls all over me when other people say it. I prefer the word mucus. In this instance I knew that God needed something that would get my full attention so he used the word "snot" in His admonition to me.
I sang a victory song for several hours.
I could hardly wait to tell Steve what God had told me, hoping it would spur him onto the offensive rather than being on the defensive. I was in for a shock when he came into the kitchen two hours earlier than his normal time. He came walking in with determination and a new command of the situation. He said, "I'm going to get ahead of this thing right now." He began to take all the necessary aids to become the master of the mucus instead of it being his master. He still coughed a little, but not with hacking and retching for fifteen or twenty minutes. By the time he took all the aids we had, he was calm enough to go back to bed for his much needed extra sleep.
God is so precious. I would call His comments to me of, "Are you really going to let snot defeat you," to be a loving chastisement. I had not realized we had let it get the best of us, succumbing to its harassment by letting it dominate our lives.
Steve's resolve to stay ahead of it was God's way of telling Steve the same thing He told me, but in a way that he would muster up courage and strength and become the head again and stop being the tail.
To be honest, after the sleepless night and hearing and seeing my loved one in such misery made me feel like I was the tail and I was barely holding on to the tip of that tail.
God is faithful. He always gets his messages across to us.
He sure knows how to shock me into action. All He had to do was use the word "snot."
There's not a thing wrong with that word. It's just that I was not raised hearing it so it's strange to my hearing.
We've declared a war on snot. See, I can use it, too, and not feel badly for it. But I do know that we need to gain victory over its harassment in our lives. Using all of the aids available at the proper time is the secret.
Steve got his message at the same time I did. His admonition was in the words he could understand and my admonition was in words that would spur me to action.
God knows all of us inside and out and He knows what words will bring us from the tail back up to the head again. I never imagined the word He would use, but Our Dad always knows best.
Whatever is harassing you in your life, don't let it be your master. You need to become its master. Thus saith the Lord.

ELI AND GOD'S GRACE

ELI AND GOD'S GRACE
T. Wieland Allen
I never can remember the proper name for cousins, whether distant ones are second cousins or cousins once removed or whatever. So I just call all of them cousins.
Two year old Eli is the son of my great niece, so that would make him the second cousin of my children or maybe a cousin once removed. No, I think he's the second cousin once removed of my grandchildren. Whatever.
Eli is a handsome young boy, black hair, dark brown eyes, chestnut colored skin. He's a striking looking little guy with a big smile.
At a recent family Thanksgiving reunion the dessert table was overflowing with pies, cakes, cookies and candies of various kinds. Family members would come into our rented hospitality suite at the hotel to graze on the sweets regularly, helping themselves to whatever their taste buds demanded at that moment.
My sister and I were observing four small tykes as they played at the long banquet table in close proximity to the dessert table. Two five year old girls and a seven year old girl were having fun making creations out of the craft materials. Eli, the brother of the seven year old girl, was playing with stacking toys in the company of the little girls. He was lost in his own little world. We could almost see his brain imagining little boy thoughts as he quietly stacked various toys. Maybe he was thinking about the joy he will feel when his dad comes home from Iraq. Maybe he was reliving the events of the past as his dad fed him a bottle when he was a baby and changed his diapers and burped him and played with him. Eli had eloquently told me about those memories a few hours previous to playing with the stacking toys.
The three little girls were chattering away, oblivious to Eli and my sister and me. Not one of the girls even paused to listen to the other two chatter, chatter, chatter away.
Eli was lost in his memories or maybe his anticipation of events when his dad comes home from "killing the bad guys," which was his assessment of his dad's mission.
As my sister Mary and I stood observing the kids at play, suddenly Eli quietly got out of his chair, still lost in his thoughts, walked the few steps to the dessert table, and gently lifted the top off of some peppermint bark candy. He chose the right piece, then started toward his mouth with the candy. Suddenly he looked up from his mission and saw my sister Mary and me admiring him intently.
Guilt hit his mind like the insidious evil that it is. Eli had the guilty look on his face of, oh, no, I'm caught and I didn't ask permission.
The two year old guilt-ridden boy very gently put the piece of candy back in the container, slowly put the cover back on it. Then he looked again at us women as we watched his gentle moves.
I said, "Eli, you can have the piece of candy. It's okay." Mary uttered her permission.
Ever so slowly he reached back into the container and retrieved the same piece of candy.
Two year old boys don't move slowly very often, but Eli moved in slow motion on his little short legs which were clad in Oshkosh overalls. He walked at a snail's pace fifteen or twenty steps toward the door to the room. He had not consumed the candy, still holding it tightly in his little clinched fist. He suddenly slowly turned around facing us and mouthed these words which were hard to hear, "Thank you."
Then he turned and exited the room, walking in the direction of his Nana who was tending to his baby brother in the hall.
My sister and I wiped the tears from our eyes, remarking that the scene was the cutest, most endearing event we had observed in a long time.
Guilt had enveloped Eli so quickly as he was jolted back into reality from his little world of imagination, but when he got permission to partake of the candy his attitude quickly turned to gratitude, muttering the sweetest thank you I've ever heard.
The precious scene was a perfect reminder of the guilt that attacks everyone at times, making us feel less than the valued person that we are. When we turn to God and He gives us His approval and His loving attitude of grace, we are so grateful that we do the same thing that Eli did, we quietly thank God for His gifts of blessings.
We are praying for the speedy return of Eli's dad so that the supposed images of happy times in his mind will become reality. Every child deserves to have his parents in their lives adding joy and security to their foundations.
Heavenly Father, please send Eli's dad Geoff home safely, and send every other daddy and mom home who has been jerked out of the lives of their children by war. Give those parents the opportunity to observe Eli and other children in their most precious activities as well as giving the children the opportunities to build other cherished memories.
My sister Mary and I are so fortunate to have observed the gracious event. God must have arranged it.
Thank you, God, for Eli and his gentle soul and for warming our hearts as we observed the precious event. You are a good Father for sharing the event with us as Your heart of love was also warmed.

SAVED BY A PRAYER

Our visiting granddaughter Edan and our daughter Pam wanted to go to the local Haunted Castle for an evening of enjoyment at the young children's portion of what we used to call a fright house. Fortunately the owner has added a 10 and under portion to the normally very fearful other sections of the Haunted Castle. Grandson Jesse had already left to go to a friend's house to watch a football game. Gramps wanted to accompany the others to the Castle, as did our other sixteen year old granddaughter Lindsey. They all traipsed off to the Castle and I stayed home to clean up the kitchen after dinner.
After cleaning the kitchen I felt the urge to go sit in the rocker on the deck and enjoy the delightful Indian Summer evening. I saw the evidence of lighting in the distance which looked more like a July 4th sky with fireworks dancing all over the sky. I surmised that it was more evident close to the Castle where the others were enjoying the early Halloween festivities. Since it is my unusual habit to pray when alone, I began to pray in the Spirit, or in God's language as i usually call it. In the past I've found that those prayers have 100 % success rate.
After praying for a long time, I decided to turn on the TV to see what the weather local channels had to say about the weather. The skies were beginning to look ominous even though we had only had a few sprinkles of rain.
Immediately after I turned on the TV the phone rang and Pam said that they were were on their way home, but they had to wait in line of cars to exit the Castle grounds. I was glad to know they were okay and on their way home because the TV newscasters were alerting people to stay indoors because of the abundance of lighting in the area.
When the four adventurers walked in the door they looked like soaked dogs who had been out in the rain all night. Their hair was soaked, their clothes were drenched, their shoes were soggy and their adrenalin was high. Their tale was exciting. It seems like they had left the Castle in a light sprinkle of rain but they had to walk to the car in a roundabout way. Before they reached the car the skies opened up and rain began pouring out of the sky in a blinding stream with lighting striking and loud thunder immediately followed the lightning, a clear indication that the lighting was stinking right above or around the hurrying crowd who were exiting the Castle in a mad rush to their cars.
The girls were frightened. Five year old Edan was petrified of the power of the lightning right above their heads and the loudness of the thunder immediately following the lightning. She screamed and wanted her mom, Pam, to carry her the rest of the way to the car. Lindsey said she almost cried with fright. She grabbed Grampa and held on for dear life. Pam was carrying an open umbrella in one hand and carrying Edan with the other arm trying to run as fast as she could. Pam told me that she felt the lighting power in the umbrella when it struck. Edan told me that the lightning hit her and her mom, "Right here," motioning to her ribs areas. She felt something in that area of her body because she knows very little about lightning and thunder, being from the west coast area.
I know beyond a doubt that God saved my family and the others in the crowd from the damaging power of that lighting. Why else would I have the urge to sit on the deck and seeing the lighting flashes feel the urge to pray?
Saved again is all I can exclaim. God has saved us many times before and He certainly saved us again.
The storm added another frightening dimension to the Halloween festivities at the Haunted Castle, one that we could have done without. But God is in the business of saving us and He did it in a wonderful way again.
Thank you, Heavenly Father, again and again.

PROACTIVE

During Steve's healing of cancer, while the Prayer Posse was gathered together to pray for him a friend was praying in Wisconsin all day for God's perfect work to be done.
She said later that the image came to her mind (a vision) and the words came from God that this was like a teenager who had acne and used Proactive to cure it, which it did. Then two more little pimples came on his face and he panicked. All he needed to do was use the Proactive again.
She said that the word proactive means a lot in this instance.
I looked it up and it means interference between previous learning or recall or performance and later learning. Also means acting in anticipation of future changes.
So that word from God means that Steve is supposed to not speak words of negativity or defeat, but he is to speak words of healing and perfection. In other words, pro means before. And so proactive means celebrating the healing before it is manifested. The tumors will disappear when he is proactive, celebrating his healing before it is completely manifested.
Thank you, God, for those instructions to Steve.

DIANE, ISAIAH AND THE BURING COAL

Loyal friends are hard to come by. I am so fortunate to have many friends who stand by me in times of trouble and in times of joy,
During My husband's battle with a devastating disease, all of our friends and relatives have been praying for a powerful end result to the battle, knowing that God has the solution already in progress.
One day Diane, a true and loyal friend, sent us via email a picture of a hand holding a ball of fire. It was confirmation to us that God has the power to burn out the tumors and restore my husband's body to perfection. I printed out the picture and it printed out in the largest size possible, a visual representation of God's participation in the healing.
For two or three weeks a scripture had been coming to my mind. Only a portion of the scripture bombarded my mind regularly. I intended to look up the scripture so I could know what it meant, surmising that maybe there was more meaning to it than the phrase that played over and over again in my mind. The phrase was, "And His train filled the temple."
Okay, I kept wondering, what makes up the train on God's adornment and why is it important enough to come to my mind over and over?
I finally took time to look up the scripture and it was in Isaiah 6. The first verses tell about Isaiah's vision of God. It described His train on His robe filling the temple. As I read on in the chapter Isaiah described the seraphim angels. Then he said that one of the angels had in his hand a burning coal which he had taken from the altar. Then he touched Isaiah's lips with the burning coal and said that his guilt was taken away and his sins were forgiven.
Glory be to God. The image in the Bible book of Isaiah of the hand and the coal was identical to the image Diane had sent to us.
It is said that out of the mouths of two or three witnesses a thing is established. The picture sent by my friend and the scripture that was constantly impressed upon my mind by the Holy Spirit were identical. That made two witnesses with the same identical image, a hand with fire in it.
God is so wonderful. Talk about a loyal friend. He's our Father but He is also our Friend. I remember that when I became an adult my earthly mother and father became good friends. They were still parents but they were also friends. It's the same with God, He's the most loving and powerful Father available to men, but He's also the greatest Friend, one whose presence and communion are available every second of the day.
Now, isn't that a great gift from a Father and a friend, letting us know that God is actively involved in the healing and restoration of my husband.
Diane is a friend of mine and a friend of a Friend, too. She knows Him intimately, just like I do.
Coals of fire from God through the angels to burn out the disease, I love that image. Thank you, God, for that image through Isaiah, and thank you Diane for the same image. Two loyal friends, an earthly one and a Heavenly One, how could I be so lucky!

photo from anger de braburt

MINISTRY OF THE BLUE MORPHO BUTTERFLY

What gives you faith? What boosts your faith? We have found out that there are various ways for our faith to become boosted to a high level. With certain situations in life, we need jet fuel boosts of faith. With other situations we merely need lighter fluid boosts of faith.
During my husband's second battle with cancer, which had been treated and was temporarily in remission, at the appearance of new tumors on the CT scans we became in need of jet fuel boosts of faith. God provides them every time. We never suspected that a butterfly would be a vehicle that God sent to catapult us up to a higher level of faith.
I write three blogs and one is called Dear Ones, in which I write some encouraging messages from God every morning. One of the writings related to God telling us that we don't need to carry burdens, that He is the burden bearer for us. That writing spoke to me and to others in a mighty way, but when my friend Diane in Wisconsin added a wonderful picture to the writing on the blog it really became a visual lesson from God.
The picture is of a blue butterfly who has a huge rock attached to it by a long rope, and the butterfly is trying to pull the rock up a flight of stairs. That was a brilliant visual representation to me of the lesson in the writing.
I printed off the writing, along with the picture, to take to the Bible Study group that I've taught for over 25 years. One of the ladies was unable to attend the meeting that day, so the hostess sent her, via another lady, a piece of special pie that she had served that day. As an afterthought she sent the printout of the butterfly with the rock and the writing from God.
At the Bible study meeting the following week, the recipient of the pie and the printout told about the butterfly on the handout, that it was a Blue Morpho Butterfly, a special butterfly found only in another county. She told us that there is a legend that anyone who catches the Blue Morpho and then releases it, that the butterfly will take the person's deepest wishes to the Great Spirit who will grant the desire.
That story and legend piqued my interest, so later I researched the Blue Morpho butterfly on the internet. I learned in the information that there is a movie about that legend. The movie is based upon a book, a true story of a 10 year old boy who had inoperable brain cancer. He only had three to six months to live. The boy had a butterfly collection and wanted to have the rare Blue Morpho butterfly for his collection. The story is that somehow the boy's mother contacted a famous scientist and convinced him to take the boy to find a Blue Morpho butterfly.
The movie is about the search for the elusive butterfly, but a woman hears of the boy's desire and catches a Blue Morpho and gives it to the ailing boy. The boy released the Blue Morpho instead of adding it to his collection. The true story ends with the boy hearing the news from his doctors that the brain cancer has disappeared.
The word morpho means to change in form or sutstance.
That jet fuel faith booster spoke volumes to my husband and me. We know the power of God and we know the power of faith.
The miracle of our story is that Diane in Wisconsin added the picture of the Blue Morpho butterfly to my blog writing that related to letting God carry our burdens, then God used another friend and her generosity in sending the pie and the printout to another friend who eventually told us about the Blue Morpho butterfly and its importance relating to my husband's illness.
The true Blue Morpho Butterfly story was a powerful reminder to us of God's ability to heal, but the convoluted way that God got the testimony of the healing of the little boy to us was the real faith booster. It provided the jet fuel faith that we needed to give the burden to God and let him provide the avenue of healing for my husband.
I don't know how God does it, but he comes through every time with His comfort, His wisdom and His jet fuel faith boosters.
A bonus to the printout of the butterfly trying to pull the rock up the stairs is that the shadow of the wings of the butterfly on the wall in the picture form a perfect heart, signifying God's love for us.
Is that a personal love letter from God or not? I know it is, and God's signature is the heart shaped shadow on the wall.

photo from: Sherryl Frauenglass A Woman's True Voice