Food was scarce in wartime Britain, so my father dug up half the back lawn to grow vegetables. As a small boy I loved watching him skilfully prepare and rake the soil. Then I would help pop the pea and bean seeds into the holes he’d made with his dibber. He even let me have a little plot all to myself, where I grew radishes and lettuce. I got very impatient and used to pull the tiny seedlings up to see if there was anything there.

We also kept chickens and I delighted in lifting the nesting box lids to see if there were any eggs. If there were, I would rush back to the house clutching my precious prizes. Hopefully they arrived unbroken. For a real treat we would have one of the birds for Christmas dinner. My father was surprisingly squeamish, so asked the milkman to do the dirty deed. I helped with the plucking. I remember the fluffy under-feathers floating around and filling the air in our small lean-to greenhouse. We fed the hens on something called balancer meal, which was mixed into a mash with cooked vegetable waste.

One day, the peelings were boiling merrily on the kitchen range, while I reclined in comfort on the floor just below. I don’t quite know how it happened; I think my sister must have caught the saucepan handle. But the next thing I knew, the contents of the pan were cascading over me. I had the presence of mind to shield my face. My bare arm took the brunt and was plastered with scalding-hot potato peelings. I shrieked and my mother panicked and rushed out carrying me. The only available car in the road was pressed into service and we were rushed to the children’s hospital on the edge of town.

There I lay on a trolley in the corridor for hours, shaking all over with terror. Eventually I was wheeled into a ward and my mother had to leave. They placed a kind of metal arch over me. It had electric light bulbs inside to keep me warm, I presumed because of the shock. I felt very shut in and scared. A nurse came and asked if I wanted a bottle. I declined, thinking it was a strange thing to offer me. The truth was, I was dying for a pee!

Life in a children’s hospital in those days was totally different to the child-friendly wards of today, where parents can even stay with their children. Everywhere had to be tidy and spotless and every morning matron would do her inspection rounds. She headed the military procession dressed in her stiff starched uniform, followed by a retinue of nurses and doctors. The staff were terrified of her, let alone the patients. We had to remain in bed all tucked up and on our best behaviour. Once she’d gone we would lark about. The one bright spark of the day was the hospital porter. He seemed to be the only normal person around. He would breeze in with a joke and a quip to try and make us smile.

I don’t remember much about the food, except we had dried bananas – fresh ones were unobtainable – which were dark brown, shrivelled and tasted terrible. I won’t tell you what they reminded me of! After dark, the lights had to be kept low because of the air raid restrictions. It was difficult to sleep because of children crying, especially the girl in the next bed. She had burns over the whole of her back. I felt like I was in prison and was so lonely and scared. I wanted to go home to my mummy and daddy.

Limited visiting was allowed in the afternoons. My mother would come, or both parents at weekends, and bring me some delicacy, like segments of orange with sugar in a Sunny Spread jam jar. It tasted nice, but what I really wanted was a hug and to be told I was going to be all right! I couldn’t ask, because I thought that ‘big boys don’t cry!’ Our vicar came one day. I couldn’t have been very friendly towards him, because I was told off later. I hadn’t made him very welcome. Poor little mite!

After three weeks the time came to be taken home. I remember being given a purse full of coins from well-wishers. I thought to myself “who are all these people and where are they?” I soon developed a nervous tic and kept flexing my left arm. I was taken back to the doctor, but he didn’t know what to say, except that it would subside in time. What I really wanted was a hug and to be helped to express how I was feeling inside. But my parents couldn’t do that and children’s counselling was unheard of then. So I pushed the hurt deep down and shelled it over and got on with life.

It was many years later as an adult, when I was introduced to a God of love, that I allowed the feelings to come to the surface. I learned that painful memories can be transformed. A man called Jesus walked through that ward with me. He had really been with me all the time and had cried for me. Bit by bit the fear and anxiety was lifted off and I was hugged and told it was all right. We then walked hand in hand, out of that prison, into the light of day and freedom.

I still have a scarred arm to remind me, but the scar on the inside has been healed and made better. Another thing I learnt; it’s all right for men to cry.

Childhood trauma has the potential to have an adverse, even disabling affect upon our adult lives. Thankfully Jesus can put this right if we are prepared to bring out the hurt to Him. This is my story of one such time as a small boy.

As children we used to make things in a wax, called Glitterwax. The idea was to take time in softening it in our warm hands, then fashion delicate ornaments like flower petals. Later our creations could be used again to make something even better, but the wax had to go through the same softening process first, otherwise the hard petals would just break into tiny pieces.

I  want to remain soft and pliable. What I often call being soft in the heart and hard in the head! Hopefully I’ve come to recognize the signs of starting to become brittle, like being intolerant, snappy or controlling for example. You could say that in trying circumstances this is excusable, but this isn’t the Jesus way.

No matter where we are in our Christian walk, whether newly awakened or a seasoned traveller, it’s a journey of daily surrendering to God. Surrender is the way in, the way forward and the way out. The problem is that it goes against our nature to let go and give over, so at times we can get stuck and start to harden. I have found it really scary, even terrifying to let go of the last vestiges of my agenda or my security or whatever I am clinging onto. But God will do everything in His power to keep us on course – but always waits for our yes.

Father
I want to be me
I want to be getting on
but I don’t seem to be moving
Things are getting in the way
I’m really trying to move in faith
to be making a difference in this world
but things are diverting me away from working for you
from following the path I thought you’d mapped out for me
But it’s hard Father, in fact some days I just feel like a lump of clay
getting nowhere

Son
I know the longings in your heart
I see how hard you try to follow Me
But I’ve allowed these ‘things’ you talk about
to change you and get you moving to where you long to be

But Father
It’s risky and I’m frightened
I don’t really know where you’ll take me

Son
Just yield to Me and
let Me have My way with you
Take your hands off and be that clay
in My warm and gentle hands and allow Me
to work in you and make a difference
Trust me
I gave My life for you

“So I went down to the potter’s house, and I saw him working at the wheel.  But the pot he was shaping from the clay was marred in his hands; so the potter formed it into another pot, shaping it as seemed best to him.” Jeremiah 18:3-4

I had a good company position, that is until the firm underwent a major reorganisation.  It seemed like all the jobs were tossed into the air and the way they fell to earth left me wondering where I fitted in. I couldn’t see the way forward, but stood my ground and eventually I  was transferred to a different, lower paid job in another city.

My main concern for the first few weeks at least, was to ‘get my feet under the desk’, keep my head down and apply myself to my new role and whole range of working relationships. For the first time in many years I was back in a large open plan office, which took some getting used to. To be truthful I found it a bit humbling. The man at the desk next to  me had a lot to say. You could say he was a ‘loud mouth’ and rude with it. However I liked him and we had a few interesting conversations, as you do. It wasn’t long before  he had worked out that I was a Christian, so late one afternoon he stated in a loud voice, for all the office to hear, “I bet being a Christian isn’t  as good as sex!”

I could sense all ears were straining to hear my reply to this ‘humorous’ taunt, but I was stumped, so made some holding remark and got on with my work. This troubled me because I felt I should have had some instant reply. I thought it over at home and next morning I asked him into a side room where I gave him my heartfelt answer, speaking of the real hope within me. Even now, I have no idea how he received this, but when the day came for me to finally depart, he brought in a magnificent strawberry fruit cake his wife had made.

I still have a longing to share with others the tremendous hope there is in Jesus, but I don’t want to try and answer questions that are not being asked. That’s a waste of time. There is a time and place and always that is God’s choice. The ‘question’ usually comes when and where we least expect and often upsets our own ‘important’ agenda. But if we walk in tune with Father and speak from the heart, we will have done all we need to do.

At times we may feel foolish in our simplicity, but that’s OK so long as we are Christ’s fool.

“Always be prepared to give an answer to everyone who asks you to give the reason for the hope that you have. But do this with gentleness and respect.” 1Peter 3:15 New International Version

I was carrying out much-needed clearance in our basement the other day and had reached the far end where stuff was piled high. Perched on the top was an old briefcase, that had been there so long is was gathering mould. I looked inside, thinking it could come in useful  for carrying some of my art materials.  It was  empty except for a sheet of paper. I turned it over to find a page of Oswald Chambers “My Utmost for His Highest” that had been typed out.

It was for February 4th “The overmastering majesty of personal power” and was speaking about Paul who said  he was overruled, overmastered, held as in a vice, by the love of Christ.  Ossie Chambers goes on to comment that very few of us know, what it means to be held in a grip by the love of God. Not our love for Christ, but Christ’s love for us!

All thought of clearance vanished as I read it over and over. It was as if this was a ‘God moment!’ I felt gripped and challenged. Something was stirring within. I asked myself the question: Is the love of God really the number one motivation in my life, controlling all I do, I wondered? I’m not like Paul, I’m ‘me,’ but I want that absolute dedication and identification  that he had. I felt a longing within and wanted to get alone with God.

I often think that there at least three ways in which we can know God loves us:

First of all, we know Jesus loves us because it says so in the Bible. Like the old children’s song, “Jesus loves me! this I know, For the Bible tells me so.” When this truth sinks in it changes our lives and we are turned upside down. Nothing short of a miracle!

Next, we know that God loves us because he answers our prayers. It can be staggering to think that God cares about every little detail of our lives that He actually answers our requests.

Finally, we know God loves us because he has loved us. That in our experience we have known and know Father loving us. It’s this abandonment to the love of God that makes all the difference. This is where the power lies.

When we are first impacted with the love of God, it’s as if our heart is pierced. But it’s only the start of a full-blown love affair and along with it goes a longing for more. But in my experience I know only too well that the love affair needs heart-to-heart cultivating and given top priority or it is in danger of fading like the briefcase and may even stagnate. However, God know us to well and loves us too much to leave us that way. So he will always use whatever means are appropriate to get our attention, to draw us closer, to go further and deeper with Him.  He then waits for our response.

I am now cleaning and polishing the briefcase and filling it with materials so that it will be ready to be used with creative vigour at the Artist’s pleasure.

There is much more in the “My Utmost for His Highest” devotional for Feb 4th which you can read here:

“For the love of Christ controls and urges and impels us,” 2Corintians 5:14 Amplified Bible
“Christ’s love has moved me to such extremes.” 2Corinthians 5:14 The Message Bible

I’m not sure whether the expression “You’ve got to laugh” originates from the north of England or is more widespread, but it’s often used when faced with a trying situation and means, “not sure what to do about this, but it helps to see the funny side!” In other words, a sense of humour can lighten things and help us see a situation in a right perspective.

My wife says jokingly, that one of the inscriptions on her gravestone will be “He made me laugh!” Surprising, as one of our small granddaughters once said that I have a sad face, but on the other hand  friends have said they like my smile! It seems then, that lurking somewhere in the melancholic/sanguine mix of my temperament, is a gift to make others laugh?

So I give thanks for this, but at the same time I am only too aware of the pitfalls and have to watch out for the ‘shadow’ side. I know that at times, in the flow of conversation, I am prone to laughing in the wrong place or injecting a quick quip inappropriately.

So we have to be on our guard:

Always coming out with a witty remark is a gift, but used in the wrong way can put us ‘centre stage’ in control of the conversation. It’s tantamount to saying ‘look at me!’ Perhaps the North American way of spelling ‘humor’ with only one ‘u’ is the right one? It maintains the right balance with ‘you’ no more important that the rest? On some television satirical programmes, witty remarks can be at someone else’s expense, even attacking. If we are tempted to do this, it can be hurtful and helps no one, least of all ourselves..

Why do we do this. One answer could be that we may want to keep the conversation superficial, in order to the risk of displaying our own inner pain and weakness that may be lurking just below the surface. Do we do this with God I wonder?

Following Jesus is a serious business but it helps not to take ourselves too seriously. I’m sure Jesus often had a smile. But perhaps we should be aware and think before we speak. The tongue can be used for bestowing great blessings or otherwise!

“Likewise the tongue is a small part of the body, but it makes great boasts. Consider what a great forest is set on fire by a small spark.” James 3:5 New International Version

I was once asked “What do you think about most of the time?” I didn’t answer directly because I felt challenged, so went away and thought about it.

I am somewhat predisposed to turning things over in my mind, but when that goes on and on without closure, I call it worrying.

When I became an operations manager for our local water company I was on call 24/7 and found it difficult to switch off and let it all go to God. This was especially so during the longest and biggest drought in our area for decades. I didn’t know  where to go to get away from it all. Yes, it was a highly pressured job, but later, when I worked from home for a year or so,  I found that some of the pressure came from within me, and discovered I made my own stress. I became so immersed in my work, I didn’t know when to stop and when I did I was still thinking about it.

If there was a problem at work, a project at home, trouble with the car or financial difficulties, whatever, I was prone to carrying it along in my mind to try and solve it. I soon found however, that it wasn’t until I really let go of it, that the solution appeared, as if from nowhere.

I came to realize this sort of behaviour pattern, that so drains us of energy,  needs a disciplined – not one of my favourite words – approach. Think the matter through, do what you have to do, if that’s appropriate and then leave it, drop it, let go of it to God, put it into Jesus’s basket and He will whip it away with a smile, so that we can focus on Him.

I almost know these verses below off by heart, but they came back to me this week afresh and I felt challenged.  As we enter into the deep heart knowledge that God cares for us to the ultimate, we come to live it out, knowing that He really will look after us in every way possible. The enemy knows this and will do everything he can to divert us and get us to put our energy into self preservation or anything that’s not God’s agenda for us.

As we surrender to God and demonstrate our commitment in action – I believe there’s a difference between surrender and commitment – Father steps in with absolute provision and the result is a deep peace within. We flow rather than be driven.  I voiced this to a minister once, who said we are only human, so cannot expect this to happen every day! Well, I’m still learning, but I expect it and prefer to believe in the truth and potential of what God says in His Word.

“Who of you by worrying can add a single hour to his life? -  If that is how God clothes the grass of the field, which is here today and tomorrow is thrown into the fire, will he not much more clothe you, O you of little faith?  -  your heavenly Father knows that you need them. But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well. Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.” Matthew 6:27-34 New International Version

All our young grandchildren are a delight, but there is one who is special. She has been diagnosed as being just within the ‘autism spectrum!’ That is the ‘label’ she has been given, as if to explain away her uniqueness. We refuse to accept such a label. She is who she is. For the first two or three years of her life her hearing was impaired. This disadvantage has been corrected and with encouragement and some heartache she is finding her own way through.

She is gifted and talented and we are proud of her. She has a vivid imagination and lives life to the full, can be very sensitive and often takes the lead in group play. But just now and again she will ask a question or do or say something a bit quirky, outside what would normally be accepted as the social norm for the given situation. But who are we to dampen the tremendous spirit she has, there could be a potential genius in the making. In reality, it’s often the sort of thing she does, that many ‘normal’ adults may wish they could do or say, but keep quiet in case they may offend – or feel shamed?

This makes me wonder, what is normal, who is normal?

In many group situations whether, business, office, club and especially in some church and Christian fellowships, there is an expected way of behaviour and way of doing things. But sometimes this expectation to conform can be confining and stunt progress. Daring to be different may rock the boat and there will be pressure – real or perceived – to conform. I once overheard a conversation regarding a club member, “she’s not really one of us!” I don’t know, but perhaps ’she’ was just a bit different and some were finding that ‘difference’ embarassing or maybe it revealed their own longing or inner pain.

Most of us in some way or another are ‘dysfunctional, and haven’t yet realised the full potential we have in Christ. We are instructed in the Bible to lay down our lives, for the sake of the wider ‘community’, but before we can lay down our lives we need to ‘get a life.’ It’s Father who shows us who we really are, if we ask, and as we are all work in progress, we need to accept the differences in our midst.

So I urge us to do two things:

Go all out to follow the individual path God has for us and discover what we are made for even if this means living with other’s misunderstanding.

and

accept and embrace the differences in those around us.

“For the body itself is not made up of only one part, but of many parts. — As it is, however, God put every different part in the body just as he wanted it to be. There would not be a body if it were all only one part! As it is, there are many parts but one body. So then, the eye cannot say to the hand, “I don’t need you!” Nor can the head say to the feet, “Well, I don’t need you!” 1Co 12:14-21 New International Version

Most of us need someone to be there for us at some time in our lives and maybe, even be available to listen to others? Surely, this is the greatest gift we can give to another? To really listen.

I want you to listen.

You see …
I have an ache inside;
a sort of pain,
that really hurts.
It’s been there …
since I was a child.
I’ve tried to ignore it,
cover it over,
but it won’t go away.
It’s coming to the boil.

Can you listen and
put your agenda to one side?
Give me your attention,
and be there for me?

I don’t want you to fix it
or make it better.
I just need to know
I’ve been heard,
and just possibly …
understood.

I need to know
I’m safe with you,
that you won’t tell,
because I’m afraid
and ashamed
of what may come out.

But …

You’re looking at your watch.
Your gaze is elsewhere.
Am I boring you?
Yes,
I know you have problems.
Perhaps another time?

Wayfarerjon

“If the person you are talking to doesn’t appear to be listening, be patient. It may simply be that he has a small piece of fluff in his ear.” – Winnie the Pooh

“Remember this, my dear friends! Everyone must be quick to listen, but slow to speak and slow to become angry.” James 1: 19 New International Version

My wife and I have just returned from a delightful week in a cottage shared with friends. We were in the heart of the Herefordshire countryside, which in my opinion is rural England at it’s very best. However, I’m biased as this was also the area where my family originated, going back to the 1600’s and earlier.

The amazing thing is that in some ways the countryside has changed little since those days. The country lanes, often lined with ancient oaks, on the whole are the same, except the dirt surface has been replaced with tarmac. Some old farm buildings are still standing including timber-framed houses in various states of repair and even older churches.

It was a really good feeling to soak in these pastoral scenes, including cattle and sheep grazing in lush green meadows by the side of a meandering river, all bathed in brilliant sunlight. It was idyllic, but don’t be deceived. That was the rural setting then, but the realities of living in those times for most were hard and come the industrial revolution the working conditions were often appalling. My ancestors were God-fearing, hard working, stoical artisans, but life was hard and they were used to ever-present poverty and grief. I am thankful for and welcome the former inheritance – which, together with my upbringing has helped shape me – but have sought freedom through Jesus from the latter.

It’s good to look back and be thankful, but I was reminded that as Christians we have an incredibly delightful inheritance. We have a new home with Father that is as old as the hills, but lasts for ever. What’s more we don’t have to wait for our inheritance, we can experience this life-changing ‘gift’ right now, giving us a taste of what is to come. There have been difficult times when I have thought my lot was far from being a ‘pleasant place’, but am learning that God only allows what He can use to bring us closer to Him and prepare us for our everlasting future with Him.

I find that just to think and meditate on this touches me to the core.

“Lord, you have assigned me my portion and my cup; you have made my lot secure. The boundary lines have fallen for me in pleasant places; surely I have a delightful inheritance.” Psalm 16:5-6 New International Version

I grew up in a small mill village, which some might today regard as an idyllic childhood. We were free to roam in complete safety in the streets, vast parkland and surrounding countryside and get up to all sorts of tricks. My mother used to tell people that I was ‘such a good boy!’ Little did she know!

One day we were playing on the outskirts of the village. In the middle of the field we discovered a scruffy apple tree and there on a high branch was just one apple. I was dared to climb up and get it and not to be outdone I started to clamber up, cheered on by my friends. It was higher than I thought and felt a bit unnerved as I gingerly wrapped my legs around the branch. I really felt out on a limb as I inched my way along the bough, which was beginning to bend. Just then the farmer appeared, striding across the field. He looked angry! The other boys ran off, but I had my eye on that apple. Just as I grabbed it the branch broke and I fell to the ground on my stomach, winding myself. The farmer was fast approaching, so I ran off, but forgot the secret way across the boggy stream and was soon up to my knees, with the farmer standing on the edge, waving his stick. I extricated myself and made my way home wondering what my mother would say about the state of my shoes and socks.

I can look back now and see how significant that episode was. As a child I had a sense of adventure that somehow, over the responsibilities, trials and pressures of my adult years got dimmed. However God, in His infinite love and wisdom saw into my heart and wasn’t going to let it stay that way. He didn’t want me to stay in my ‘comfortable nest,’ so He allowed circumstances to come along to bump start me into ‘risky living!’ Whether it was trying to find my way through very trying circumstances or in stepping out on a project that was on my heart, I have often found myself out on a limb. It was fine at first, especially with friend’s encouragement, but as the going got tough that support tended to evaporate. I then felt all alone, going where I hadn’t been before – into the unknown. Holding onto that branch was scary, even frightening. I looked behind, but could see there was no going back. I looked down, but that made me feel panicky, so I fixed my gaze on that apple and somehow, in a way I don’t understand I finally had my hands on that fruit – and sometimes I didn’t!

I believe God wants us out on a limb, trusting in him. We may feel unsafe out on the ‘branch,’ but remember it is connected to the solid dependable tree of life. We may even fall, but we ‘fall up’ into His arms and in our journey we will have moved on, ready for the next time. He will never ever let us down.

Let’s go for that golden apple.

“Do not be afraid, for I am with you;” New International Version

I wrote this very personal piece some years ago, when I was catapulted into chronic fatigue and loneliness that defied a human solution.

Whereas before, I was aware of the presence of God, it felt He had gone – this was my own Dark Night of the Soul.

I knew I had to trust Him to take me through the chasm of pain to the other side and that He did over a period of several months. Read More….

It’s lonely in here, very, very lonely
as if I’m the only person
in the whole wide world
and I’m frightened and hurting
I feel so helpless
I want to go back to how it was before, but I can’t
I want to escape, to run away.

Where are you God?
You seem so far away!
Why have you left me all alone?

In reality he is close
not the feeling, but the real thing
Jesus kneeling at my feet
“What would you have me do for you?”
What a God! at my feet!
Waiting patiently for the word
Waiting, waiting…
Yes, yes Lord, but .. but I need a lifeline
but yes, yes Lord, yes!

And as the yes’s and the trusting grew
and except for the odd backward glance,
the journey entered upon,
standing empty in the barren desert,
feeling the feelings with Him
I remind myself
He will not let me down,
He will not let me be tempted more than I can bear
and …

as my eyes become accustomed to the darkness
I find beauty to behold,
diamonds and precious stones
hidden behind the pain,
memories that heal and not hinder,
heart to blessed heart
words of love
the pain starts to lift
and the anxieties start to melt away.

Until the time when I feel His embrace
- and do you know
it can actually hurt to be loved!
But Lord don’t stop.

Is this the end?
no, it’s just the beginning.

“I will give you the treasures of darkness, riches stored in secret places, so that you may know that I am the LORD, the God of Israel, who summons you by name.” Isaiah 45:3 New International Version

For my wife to be given a ‘sentence’ of an aggressive and disabling form of rheumatoid arthritis certainly wasn’t on our agenda when we married. Neither did I expect to be diagnosed with chronic fatigue syndrome (M.E.) not long after taking early retirement. These chronic illnesses changed the direction of our lives for ever, but although they were the cause of much grief and struggle, we have so very much to be thankful for and strangely, I wouldn’t have it any other way. It has been a life-changing experience so far and this continues – we are still learning. What I personally have learnt and am still learning was on my mind today and these are just a few thoughts:

1. Fun. There are times when I have to remind myself not to take life too seriously and find time for fun. Yes FUN! It helps to have a sense of humour. Mine gets buried at times and I need to let it out and even take the risk of offending some.

2. I’m learning poise - I needed to. There’s only one day that matters and that’s today. I’m learning to savour and enjoy the moment, whether it’s a chance meeting or to gaze at a bee feeding of the flowers in our garden.

3. I’m learning to ‘be.’ The ‘being’ that starts in the womb and continues as an infant on mother’s knee seeing the affection in her eyes and as we grow receiving validation from our fathers. Many of us missed out somewhat on this sort of thing. I believe a lack of a ‘sense of being’  - as I call it – can be at the root of so much stress-related illness. Fortunately this lack can be corrected by sitting on the knee of Father God, spending time with Him in intimacy. This is a need God has put within me, but setting aside the space can be a battle at times.

4. Making the most of time. With our limited strength and energy – is anyone unlimited? – we have been living in what we call ‘the slow lane’ and see others whizzing by – perhaps they are missing out on something? Paradoxically the weeks and months seem to fly past, so it’s impressed upon us to choose carefully what we do and how we do it. The only way I know how to do this is to yield to Father and follow His lead and experience that He has more than enough strength.

5. I’m learning to follow the dreams and desires God has put within me. This often seems risky, especially as what ‘normal’ people see as simple and everyday, can be a challenging adventure to us. So if something comes to mind, I either do it or forget about it. For my 60th birthday my wife arranged for us to go on a hot air balloon trip – don’t ask me how I got her into the basket!  No matter that we hit overhead electric power cables and were splashed over  the newspaper front page the next day. We had a perfect landing following a beautiful and unforgettable experience. God took care of us.

6. I have never been good at feeding relationships and I try to change this. Especially important because some friends, for one reason or another, cannot handle disability and chronic illness and they fall away. Some we have to let go, but others come along.

7. Change. I’m still learning to be more flexible. I used to have a habit of wanting to maintain the status  quo – sticking with what I am familiar with even if it may not be the best. Life is about changing and it’s best to get into that attitude early in life or it gets harder later on – believe me!

8. Childlike not childish. My journey has involved letting my childlike side come to the fore, but dealing with the childish traits and emotional ‘wounds’ that can be so disabling in adult life.

9. Deal with loss and grief without pretending, let go of what I cannot do and discover or rediscover what is possible. I now have time to write and paint for example.

10. Learning to be me and live with other people’s anger.

11. Guard the Spirit within me and encourage hope.

I could keep on but I’ll stop here. My wife would add a lot more I’m sure.

“One day at a time, sweet Jesus, that’s all I’m asking of you.
Teach me today, to do all the things that I have to do.
Yesterdays gone, sweet Jesus, and tomorrow may never be mine.
Lord, for my sake, teach me to take, one day at a time.”

My wife is the Guest Blogger this week and writes about living with an illness long term:

The Thirty Nine Steps

We really welcomed our move to Cornwall. There had been some delay. We headed an ever-growing chain of interested buyers, so made the decision to arrange a bridging loan. It was risky, but John had to start his new job. We were separated for a time, but eventually moved on 5th November 1972 in the rain.

Our children – six and three – thought our new house was great, with bedrooms downstairs built into the hillside and 39 steps up to the front door. They ran up and down and in and out excitably. The beach was just down the road – a new adventure to be lived. Our new home was light and bright with views of sea and countryside. We felt really blessed.

Fortunately the house sales went through and within two months we began making our mark on our new home, starting with the upstairs bedroom. John had agreed to my mother living with us.

The moving was tiring and I had painful toes on my left foot causing me to limp and I was feeling most unwell, so introduced myself to the doctor who arranged blood tests. When I returned for the results he said it wasn’t gout, but sorry to report that it was rheumatoid arthritis, a crippling and disabling disease. Treatment was offered and he recommended seeing a R.A. consultant at Bath. I quietly received my ‘sentence’ – there was no offer of talking it through. My mother had developed R.A. after my father died and I had seen how it gradually claimed movement.

It became a daily battle, but I also saw it as an opportunity to achieve the impossible. I sought to be a wife, mother, daughter, sister, and friend wherever I could. A three-week stay in a rheumatoid hospital was an unforgettable experience. There was an understanding amongst us. We laughed and cried and listened and encouraged each other. Drug treatment was offered and started.

Within weeks of leaving the hospital I visited my mother who was struggling. I gave all I could and wanted to stay, but returned home. She died ten days later. I was devastated. The nurse who assisted my injection suggested I speak with the new doctor. He came to our home and stayed three hours sharing his understanding and belief in a living God who comforts and helps and seeks a relationship with us. I had attended Sunday School and church services for years but the reality of a personal God had not registered.

I met Myrtle who pointed me to a retired doctor, who asked if I was a Christian. I thought I was and believed Jesus was – just – an example. She took me to a healing service where I heard the Gospel preached simply but powerfully. I responded to the heart message that Jesus died for me because He loved me. Prayer for healing followed and my body was free.We ‘flew’ home that evening. I tried to share what had happened with villagers, church and friends, but it was not received, but I chose to walk with Jesus and one step led to another. It was not an easy path, but mishandling only made me more sure of Jesus being my saviour and friend.

I became very tired ‘doing’ wherever needed and the R.A. symptoms returned and I became less and less able. John has spoken of not handling illness well, but he certainly played his part in keeping things going. I shall always be thankful that he chose to stay. Also our children coped well with an unwell mother which they say has shaped not harmed them. They are both caring father and mother with their own families.

Looking back, the years have been difficult but certainly not wasted. I was involved with playgroup as treasurer, and on the school parent teacher’s committee, started an over sixties club in the village – it’s still operating – assisted with a ladies discussion group for ten years and I visited and encouraged the elderly. For years we were very involved with the village church, where I became treasurer for twelve years, but now we are more selective. More recently I have been part of an art group and producing flower and hand drawings that speak of God’s wonderful creation and His touch. Also we have just started a singing-for-fun group, giving expression to joy.

I have had two falls within a year causing fractures and lack of balance, but I am alive and seek to live productively, but also more closely with my God. I thank God the isolation I have felt keenly when I heard of others’ activities and was not included, no longer results in feelings of rejection, but an opportunity for space with Him. I continue to believe God heals, but in His time and in His way for His glory. I wait expectantly. R.A. doesn’t kill but takes your life, but I give ongoing thanks for the Lord’s enabling and strength as I turn to Him for help and encouragement.

If you would like to read my husband’s viewpoint look here

Posted in biography, Christian, chronic fatigue, disability, family, healing, illness, personal Tagged: biography, Christian, disability, family, fatigue, God, healing, illness, marriage, personal, prayer, rheumatoid arthritis ]]> http://wayfarerjon.wordpress.com/2009/03/31/239/feed/ 4 wayfarerjon http://wayfarerjon.wordpress.com/2009/02/27/stick-and-carrot/ http://wayfarerjon.wordpress.com/2009/02/27/stick-and-carrot/#comments Fri, 27 Feb 2009 09:37:59 +0000 wayfarerjon http://wayfarerjon.wordpress.com/?p=231 ]]>

Speaking with a friend the other day, he asked me if I loved and accepted myself – meaning in the same way God does – and I replied about eighty percent. He said he felt he didn’t have a very good view of himself, so settled for twenty five percent.

I’m convinced that this was one of the factors that contributed towards my chronic fatigue syndrome.

It goes back a long way, rooted somewhere in childhood. I call it the stick and the carrot. The carrot was the demonstration of love and affirmation that I desperately needed from my father. The problem was that it always seemed out of reach. I thought maybe it was all my fault and I must try harder. But it was just not there. I couldn’t make it.

My father was a good man and did all he could for me. You cannot expect more from anyone, can you? As he put it in his own words many years later – he was just not made that way. He could not express emotion or love in a demonstrative way and as I grew into my teens this became even more difficult for him.

This left me as an adult feeling I had to perform to be loved and accepted. As such I became driven. It was only years after I became a Christian that my eyes were opened to this dysfunctional behaviour pattern and I started to find healing and release.

This driven state of needing to prove myself is energy sapping and this was when the fatigue finally caught up with me and I was diagnosed with M.E.. Over a period of years, as I sought to find a way through the fog with Jesus, I was slowly changed from a human ‘doing’ into a human being, so rather than being driven I am learning to flow with Father. Not at the one hundred percent accepting myself yet, but I now know I don’t have to try harder, but just rest in His presence and allow Him to love me. In other words I don’t have to try and get there, I don’t have to try and make it, He has already done it.

As it was school’s half term last week, we had the company of our grandchildren all week. Three delightful little girls, each one quite different and a credit to their parents who sacrificially go to great lengths in bringing them up and teaching them what is right.

They are already forming their own opinions and it’s particularly at mealtimes when their individual likes and dislikes came to the fore. ‘I don’t eat cheese’ and ‘I only drink apple juice’, etc. At their last meal before their return home we had them to ourselves. My wife went to extra trouble in preparing a special desert; meringue and cream topped with fresh raspberries. This was a great hit – just time for a quick whispered “this is nice!” between spoon fulls – until the youngest, having wolfed down her raspberries – she eats anything red! – pushed the dish away from her. “I don’t like cream.’ ‘Don’t like cream?’ I thought.

I was about to remark to my wife, that when I was a child we had two choices; we either ate what was put in front of us or we left the table. But I felt a check and had second thoughts. I wondered if I am any different now? I may be older in years, but do some of those childish ways still linger on?

When I worked in an office, there was always the tendency to delve in my in-tray and pick out the ‘nice’ items; those that  were the easiest to deal with. I could always leave the rest until later, on the pretext of the overwhelming pressure of work, which was partly true. At home there are choices: clearing a blocked drain or going down to the beach, doing the household accounts or watching my favourite TV programme. Guess which wins?

During the times when I have been battered by chronic fatigue, I had the obvious excuse, but in fact it had the opposite effect. Even with such little energy, I didn’t want it to beat me, so I resolved that each day I would do at least one thing that I really liked and one thing, no matter how small, that I didn’t like. Hopefully it would be good to look back at the day and see something achieved.

You could say that these things are only human, but I believe there is more to it than that. These childish behaviour patterns rooted in the past, can hamper our relationship with Christ and have a disabling effect upon our lives.

I’ve come to the conclusion there are no such things as ‘nice’ or ‘nasty’ if we change our thinking and make the right choices, they are all used to the good.

When I experienced what I call my mini breakdown, my world seemed to collapse. I was determined however to see it through without the aid of drugs, as I wanted to feel the feelings. I wanted a proper job, so it wouldn’t happen again.

It was just a few words from two friends who had ‘been there’ that was most helpful and confirmed for me that Father God would take me through the abyss of desolation to the other side. And this He did over a period of several months, at times in amazing ways. I repeat, He did it!

It was the ‘going through’ that was the difficult part, where I would have liked some support with ‘arms on’ in my emotional wilderness!’ However, apart from having a very understanding wife, such support was thin on the ground. Some kept away and it came back to me via the grapevine, that I was ‘depressed,’ which was certainly not a fair description of my condition. Several Christian friends showed concern and some wanted to ‘fix it’ for me and even perform deep prayer ministry. It’s not that I am against that sort of thing – to the contrary, as I have been involved in prayer ministry myself – but I just knew it was not appropriate for me in that instance and would have been counter productive. I just needed to ‘be’ and so had to live with others’ misunderstanding.

There were one or two exceptions to this. One being an elderly neighbour in his nineties. There were several occasions when I sat with him in his woodshed, as he worked on his carpentry. Little was said, but there was an unspoken understanding and acceptance between us. We were just being together in that healing environment, giving each other space and mutual validation. It just came naturally.

I have said before, that listening is one of the greatest gifts we can give someone, but I realise that starts by having a sense of being with nothing to prove.  We are not called human ‘beings’ for no reason. Perhaps some of us have to learn to ‘be’ and then pass on the comfort we have received, no more and no less and leave the rest to God?

I had a long telephone conversation with a friend the other evening. At one point I asked him what he would really like to happen before he died. I hasten to add that he certainly is in no danger of passing on, but I thought it would sharpen things up. Without hesitation he replied that he would like to be at peace with himself. This naturally brought God into the conversation. He then reversed things and asked me the same question. I had to stop and think.

Years ago, my wife and I made our list and over the coming days refined it and checked it out with God. It consisted of our desires and dreams, that we believed He had given us. We then surrendered them to God and kept them close to our hearts.

Several of those items have since come to fruition, like wanting to see our children’s children – we now have five delightful grandchildren. Of the items that remain, there are at least a couple that stand out:

I long to see my wife healed. This has been the subject of hours – if not desperate – prayers over the years and many times I have received His personal promise that He will do just that. I have of course to surrender this to God, believing He will do what He has promised, in His way and in His time.

The next one is a real ‘biggy’ and although I don’t wish to go into the details right now, I can say that it is widespread and will involve others. At the present time in our life it seems far away, but I am encouraged by two things:

Everything in our life so far, the joys, struggles and hard times and the way God seems to be leading us, I am sure is preparing us for this. We believe every ounce of our experiences over the years will be used. Secondly, we believe in a God of the impossible. We don’t understand His ways, but we know He comes up with solutions that we could not have even thought of.  In the meantime we do all we can to stay close to Him in obedience and follow any prompts we are given. We also try to avoid diversions by way of activities that may be good in themselves, but do not fit in with the way we believe we are heading.

God sees the big picture. He is the Great Architect. All we have to do is follow what we believe He has given us. He knows what the future holds and it will all fit together when the time comes. To follow our dreams may seem risky, but I don’t think I could live with the regret of having done nothing, when it’s too late.

Just when I thought certain symptoms and aspects of chronic fatigue were a thing of the past, I had a minor relapse. All the difficulties and infections etc. in the three months up to last Christmas took their toll. Fatigue reared its head and I had to step back and start yet again on the slow journey to recovery.

On top of that the hormone therapy treatment for prostate cancer added acute tiredness. It’s like a sort of ‘chemical’ tiredness that comes and goes, resistant to the healing effect of rest or sleep.  The resultant fog of fatigue (which see) is different but still trying.

However, these are early days and I am in a new learning ground. Now and again, without warning, this fog suddenly  lifts and I am presented with a ‘window’ of alertness that is delicious. Awareness and senses are restored. How long this window lasts varies, but usually no more than a few hours. So what am I to do with this sharp time?

My greatest desire is for intimacy with Father. He is my lifeline and way forward. I also believe God has promised to heal me. He has brought me so far, often in remarkable ways, and is not going to dump me now, but abiding in intimacy is vital. So my decision is clear and obvious. Giving time first and foremost for intimacy is my top priority, important commitments aside. After all, we are told in the Bible if we look to God as a top priority, all ‘these other things’ will be looked after. (Matthew 6:33)

There lies the struggle. I long to revel in this fresh freedom and clarity, to write, meet with others or engage – within my restrictions – in some pressing project which in itself could have the potential to send me back into the fog.

The decision is really a no-brainer, so hopefully I follow the Spirit’s leading!  Once decided upon and seated, problems and discomforts laid aside, the conversation develops until silence descends and hope rises. Always different, but if nothing else, there is the exquisite preciousness of just being with Father to keep me focused for what’s left of the day.

First things first!

We live by the sea in Cornwall. Our village may be small, but it’s a ‘proper’ little village, complete with a grocery store and post office, inn with panoramic sea views, church, primary school, village hall, coffee shop, restaurant and visiting mobile bank and library. The nearest town is ten miles away and the city, to which many commute, is a twenty mile drive.

Just above our home, no more than 250 yards from the shops, there used to live a delightful couple in their nineties. They had given up their car long ago, but once a week they walked down to the village. They made it a real occasion and called it ‘going to town!’ Gentleman Jim and Lady Brenda, dressed in their summer finery.  He in smart trousers and blazer with pocket handkerchief and she in a flowing frock and beribboned hat. You’d think they were going to visit the Queen. They walked hand in hand down the hill, taking their time, pausing now and again for a chat with passersby. After completing their business and a leisurely lunch, they’d make their slow return, stopping halfway to rest on a low wall, surveying the scene and breathing in the sea breeze.

I felt there was something to learn from this elderlycouple. Something that had been mainly outside my experience, with so many years of racing to and from work. This was however brought home to me a few weeks ago.

I had been cooped up inside with an tenacious infection, plus a heavy chest cold, too long.  Although my energy and strength were much depleted, I’d had enough of the frustration and started on my recovery campaign. The first day I stepped outside and gloried in the champagne morning air. It was good to be alive. A few more steps and I spied the first snowdrop, winking at me through the undergrowth. Each short time in the village was packed with enjoyable encounters, such that it seemed they had been orchestrated by Someone.

The illness is behind me now, but I will never tire of ‘going to town.’ I don’t ever want to be so busy or preoccupied, that I take for granted and miss the God-given things, events or people that are close up right under my nose.

New Year is traditionally a time for making resolutions, something I am never quite sure of. To be effective and lasting they have to be more than promises or good intentions. I prefer to see it as making a new start; a letting go of the old year and ringing in the new.

This is particularly relevant to me, as the three months up to Christmas were very difficult and painful. In October I was diagnosed with aggressive prostate cancer and was catapulted  into a world of hospitals, drugs and explorations, with troublesome infections and weakening side effects. On top of this I experienced a relapse in some long-forgotten chronic fatigue symptoms. However, as is usual when I find I’m in a tight corner, I reached out to God for understanding and had His promise to take me through and that ‘all would be well!’ The condition? That I put my whole trust in Him.

I am now emerging, rather like a butterfly from a chrysalis, resting before moving forward. I have spent time with Father, letting go of that time, including all the pain and discomfort and making sure I am not clinging onto the old. It’s now behind me and I can even give myself a pat on the back for coping with it and learn from the experience. It has been God of course, who at times quite amazingly, has brought me through so far. This leaves me feeling very thankful for such a faithful God.

The journey continues, with more battles and unexpected joys. Not looking back and putting my trust in Him.

I was so battered during that period, that I couldn’t put my mind to writing, but hopefully I am now getting back into the flow.

This is a personal account of how I have lived with chronic illness for over thirty years and how it has been used to change my life. A husband’s viewpoint.

My wife was a real carer. It was part of her make-up. She would have made a good nurse, but gave herself sacrificially to being a mother, wife and home-maker.

After about nine years of marriage we moved to the Cornish coast because of my work. To live by the sea was like a dream come true. We saw it as a new start. Within the first year however, things began to go wrong.

My wife was already experiencing pain in her feet and not long after arrival, she was diagnosed with chronic rheumatoid arthritis, a progressive and disabling autoimmune disease. This ‘sentence’ came as a shock for her and she was quickly admitted to a hospital in Bath for three weeks specialist treatment. Within days of returning home however, she had news of her mother’s deteriorating health and travelled up country to see her. Her mother had painfully struggled for years with rheumatoid arthritis and it was our plan for her to come and live with us, once we had settled in and prepared a room for her.  Unfortunately this wasn’t to be, as she passed away ten days later.

My upbringing hadn’t fitted me out to deal with chronic illness or suffering.  Indeed, any expression of emotion within the family was kept mainly under wraps, so my response to this unplanned, if not traumatic situation wasn’t surprising. What was happening left me feeling numb. In a way I was in denial. My way of coping with these sort of things, was to do something practical to try and hold things together and maintain the status quo.

That summer, we loaded up the car with the large frame tent and all the camping equipment, including my wife’s medical kit and set off for a much-needed camping holiday in France.  I will never forget the relief, arriving at the camp site after the long hot drive. The warmth and  refreshing scent of the acacia trees in full bloom and not another tent in sight!  All my cares and difficulties vanished at that moment.  It was so relaxing for us all, even my wife who was coming to terms with grief. The children could roam and play in complete safety and we had our meals outside alfresco style.  The escape was soon over however, when we returned home to reality.

As the rheumatoid activity increased, my wife became more physically limited and fatigued.  It was easy for me to leave in the morning and bury myself in my work, while my wife often spent the day lying down.  This was the side people didn’t see.  She found the pain, fatigue and physical limitations frightening and in her frustration there were frequent expressions of anger and despair. I found these outbursts hard to cope with and often regarded work as an escape. It was a long time before I realised that they were not really aimed at me personally, it was just that I was the closest.

I was once asked if I had ever thought of leaving. I can honestly say that was never ever on the agenda.  I loved my wife and was committed to our marriage.  On the other hand, I wanted to escape from the illness, I hated what it was doing. I found it increasingly painful to watch her, my loved one, in so much pain and distress.  I felt so horribly helpless and trapped. One night when it got so bad, I went down on to our beach in the dark and in desperation reached out to God from the depths of my being, imploring Him to help us and heal my wife.

Despite my wife’s  progressive disablement with R.A., we lived a very full family and community life. My wife especially joined in, or initiated, village activities. I continued to put everything into my work, which involved an hour and a half’s return drive, stopping on the way to do the weekly grocery shop. I also used to buy some of my wife’s clothes and became quite an expert in Marks and Spencer’s lingerie department. Fortunately, I was blessed with practical skills, as the home needed much repair and our garden had to be reclaimed from a steep gorse-covered field. Also, as ours was an ageing population, I often gave a helping hand, anything from clearing drains and decorating, to laying carpets.

The children attended the village primary school, set in a delightful clifftop location, with the playing field leading down to the beach.  We became involved with some of the parents and as time went by, I was increasingly pressed into service, to ferry our children and friends to their various activities.  When the sun shone it was always a tussle between the choice of working on the garden and house or going down to the beach.  The beach often won; we loved it down there. We had our favourite spot, where we could paddle in the rock pools at low tide and swim safely as the incoming tide covered the warm rocks.

My wife gave her all in the role of  wife and mother and being what she called a ‘home-maker’ – she had high standards.  She was also a good listener and it was quite usual for me to arrive home, to find the pile of ironing still untouched, as she had given several hours to someone in need. I found that hard to accept, as she was the one needing physical help, but apart from several notable exceptions, there was little of that.

Increasingly there were times I went off on my own, or with the children, for outdoor pursuits. My wife obviously found that very difficult.  I too found it painful, as I wanted us to enjoy the activities together, but these sort of feelings were pushed to the back of my mind.

Sometimes we were asked if it affected our children, having a mother with an illness, because they would hardly remember her when she was well.  Well one thing, she may have had a disability, but she did not act disabled and she has an adventurous spirit.  Yes, there were things that they missed out on, just as I did, but I believe that they were strengthened through these early lessons and have grown up with qualities that some other adults never have.  In the end of course, it is for them to say.

There is a thread going right through this story. Almost from the start, through our own need, God was drawing us to Himself and also into the Christian scene. Over the years we made new acquaintances and contacts. One of these new friends suggested my wife saw a Christian doctor, who had retired and lived with a companion in a large country house, an hour’s drive away.  When we arrived, they got straight to the point. They didn’t speak of medical matters, but about Jesus, gently but with authority. It seemed as if they could see right inside us.

The following day they took my wife to hear a visiting evangelist in the next county. I joined them in the evening after work and was riveted by the way he spoke so directly and simply.  There was a call for those to come forward for salvation and healing and the next thing I knew, was that my wife had obviously been touched in some remarkable way.  As we drove back that evening, we just knew that she had been healed. It was as if the car had wings, we were so overjoyed.

There was no doubting it was a miracle. We were over the moon and obviously wanted to talk about it. However as we tried to share our experience , we found locally, even amongst church people, that it was met with indifference or scepticism. Nevertheless, with her renewed strength, my wife became even more involved, wherever she saw a need. You could say she took on the village.

Unfortunately, after time, the symptoms slowly returned and that left us puzzled and acutely disappointed. No one seemed to have the answer and we felt on our own.

From what we had read in the Bible and from the many testimonies we’d heard, we were convinced that God still heals today and I wanted this for my wife! In our quest for understanding, we were led over the years along a path of Christian contacts.  We learned that healing includes not just physical, but emotional, mental and spiritual – they are all linked. Also how we can be healed of childhood traumas and past hurts, that can adversely affect our lives as adults.

We had times away where we experienced sensitive listening and ministry.  There were blind alleys, mistakes and mishandling too, but through all this I began to see my wife come into a new place. To put it in her words, “she had an illness, but the illness did not have her!” This became apparent and did not go unnoticed.

It slowly began to dawn on me that it wasn’t just my wife who needed healing. My work had become more challenging, with greater demands on my time, but desires and longings were emerging. I was getting in touch with long-buried feelings, that left me reaching out to God.

One issue for me was the feeling of loss. There was a lot to be thankful for, but we had been robbed of much of what a ‘normal’ couple can do. For example, we were invited to a colleague’s celebration barn dance. I had to go on my own and sat at the side chatting, but another colleague’s wife asked me to join in and wouldn’t take no for an answer.  What took me by surprise, was how agile and athletic she was, as we twirled around the floor. It just hit me, what I had missed out on. I could barely remember when my wife was like that. When I got home, I just sobbed and sobbed.

It was only after I had given time to face and feel the unresolved grief and even anger – some of which was rooted way back in the past –  and found healing, that I could look back and really appreciate all the treasures of the past years.

Another issue that I had to face, was the fact that I was not responsible for my wife. As her husband I have a responsibility, but I am not responsible for her, there is a difference.  I know it doesn’t sound logical, but in some way I felt it was all my fault and somehow I had failed. This had to be dealt with and then let her go the way that was right for her.

After successive company reorganisations, I was offered the opportunity of early retirement.  This was something I welcomed, as apart from giving me more time for home and marriage, it gave me the opportunity to explore what I felt God wanted me to do.  Because we had received so much, we wanted to give it back to God and became involved ourselves in ministry or what we called prayer counselling. We started together on these things, but my wife found it increasingly difficult as she was unable to keep up physically and took more of a back seat, not by choice but out of necessity. Over several years, my involvement grew. I found it all very fulfilling and really believed it was ‘what I was made for!’

The problem was that my workload was snowballing. I had spent hours and hours listening to others, but a voice inside me was pleading, “what about me?” I began to feel exhausted. There was an inner conflict between giving out to others and finding space for my own needs. It slowly dawned upon me that I could be heading for burnout. Something had to give!

After months of emotional turmoil and two bouts of persistent ‘flu, I was eventually diagnosed with Chronic Fatigue Syndrome (M.E.) which left me with depleted energy and strength and muscle pain. Bit by bit I had to let go of the things I could no longer do, including much of our Christian service. Also there would be no more walking in the hills and wild places, that I so much enjoyed. One hundred yards on the flat, with the wind behind me, was enough to start with.

This initial desolation left me reaching out to God for answers. He had my attention as never before. I also spent much time prayerfully working through the loss and associated grief. As part of my ongoing healing journey I began to find out what I really could do within the restriction and discover new ways of doing things that were less of a drain on energy. I also rediscovered hidden talents for writing and painting, which helped in the process. It was only much later, when looking back, I realised that God had done something solid inside me. In the transition from being performance-based, I had more of what I call a ‘sense of being’ cemented within me.  A beginning of that divine paradoxical state of having a God-given desire for more, but accepting ‘what is!’

Especially in the early days, when like me, she was most concerned about what was happening for me, my wife was most supportive and allowed me space to work things through. On the positive side, she welcomed the extra time we had together and the shared activities. It was only through my own experience of fatigue, that I started to understand firsthand, what it was like for my wife. Through illness I was changed from being a willing helper to a ‘sharer.’ In several ways, physically, we were in the same boat, except where one of us was weak the other was strong and vice versa. We compliment one another. So although we are two individuals trying to walk with God on parallel paths, we have been drawn closer together. Illness and disability could have had the reverse effect, separating us, but because there has been a third Person in our relationship we have been kept together despite our struggles.

In this shared experience we have known God’s provision and enabling us to do things we thought were impossible. In our weakness he has enabled us, often in amazing ways. The last two years have been particularly challenging. It’s been a bumpy ride, but we believe that the same God who has brought us through so far, will not disappoint us.

The Best is yet to come in our adventure.

For my wife’s viewpoint see:  “The Thirty Nine Steps”

Some years ago, I had a very humbling experience. My wife suggested I went see a lady in the village whose husband was very ill. When she showed me in, I saw that her husband was barely conscious. She said he was suffering from a tumour on the brain and the prognosis wasn’t good. I helped shave him, but before I left she said, “Only a miracle can save Jimmy now.” Such was my fairly new faith, that I quickly replied, “I believe in miracles.”

I visited again and after several visits, I noticed her husband had deteriorated further and had slipped into a peaceful coma. She continued to care for him and lovingly conversed with him,  even though he couldn’t respond. We didn’t know whether he could hear, but who was to say he couldn’t.

This was a completely new experience for me. I felt inadequate and extremely humbled by what I saw. However, I felt a part of what was happening and just gave what little I could and did my best to answer her searching questions. Each time before I left, she asked me to say “a little prayer.”

As the weeks and months passed by, I saw no physical change in her husband, but something was happening for her. One day, after we had prayed, she asked me if I could buy her a Bible. It wasn’t long after, that her husband passed away. The miracle that we had been praying for didn’t happen, at least not in the way we expected. She came to know Jesus personally and was a changed woman. That in itself is a wonderful miracle.

What I learned from this experience, was that God sees the big picture and always works to the good.  Years later and I still believe in miracles – and that includes healing of all kinds, including chronic fatigue syndrome – although I have personally only experienced what I would call ‘minor’ miracles.  Even so, I am always amazed at how  and what God does when He is given a free hand.

My wife and I have things in our lives that seem without solution, but we are fully expectant for miracles in our lives and that goes for our family and friends too. I know that if we are completely surrendered and committed  to God, He will act in awesome ways. The ‘how’ and ‘when,’ we have to leave to Him of course.

Having suffered from chronic fatigue syndrome for a number of years has  given me a just an inkling of what it could be like for someone who has experienced far greater pain than me.

Lying here, Father,
I know You are there.
I don’t feel your Presence, but
I do feel the pain and discomfort
that tries to take over
and invade my fatigued soul.
Every aching muscle and sinew
vying for attention and
threatening to melt away the hope.

But as I look to You,
I know You are with me,
feeling my every feeling.
And as I keep on looking
and looking and looking,
reaching out to You,
minute by hour,
heart to Blessed Heart,
Your love seems to take over,
in a way I don’t understand.
Fear goes out the window,
faith and hope rise
and the pain grows dim
just for now -

Speaking with someone with chronic fatigue, the other day, made me think. She said she had accepted the illness and this brought peace inside. A fact that I readily agree with.

Accepting that we have an illness is absolutely key to moving on and allowing God’s healing to take place. I struggled with this for a long time. I just loathed what was happening to me and I complained a lot. I was being real and had to work through all the feelings, including anger that were boiling inside me. Through this expression, I did eventually come to the place of acceptance. The way I would put it, is that I yielded to Father God in the situation.

However, that’s not the whole story. Acceptance is not the same as resignation. Resignation can be saying something like, “This is my lot,” a sort of powerful sentence spoken over you. I didn’t believe that God wanted me to stay as I was, but I knew healing had to start with acceptance and surrender. That to me seemed like taking an enormous risk. What if God does not do anything? But that is like saying that I don’t trust God!

Resignation can have deep roots in our lives. Despite having parents that did all they could for me, there was a lack of emotional and physical bonding. The childhood needs for affection to be demonstrated to the degree that I needed, just were not there. At some stage I must have said to myself, “This is as good as it gets,” and I buried the emotional pain, covered it over and got on with my life, compensating for the lack, in whatever way I could.

It was only after I came into the knowledge and experience of God’s love that I allowed these feelings to surface and found freedom. This involved a changed mindset. So far as the illness was concerned, I was not going to take it lying down. I wanted to live life to the full, but surrender meant something in me had to die. So acceptance brought hope, expectation and the healing journey to commence. From a worldly viewpoint that’s a paradox.

We’ve just returned from a week spending time at a Christian retreat centre. The manor house had views to die for and was just the place to relax, unwind and let our cares and worries fall away. It was like a little piece of heaven away from work, family responsibilities and household chores.

It wasn’t just a holiday, but more a vital time to refresh ourselves physically, mentally and spiritually. Space to just ‘be’ and begin to get things in perspective – God’s perspective hopefully – and seek the way forward. The community are there to see to your needs, adults and children, and were available to lend a listening ear and pray with us if needed. There were also precious moments of time shared with other guests.

I had a completely open agenda for the time and was looking to receive – or give – in any way that was appropriate. My spiritual antenna were out. I needed to hear what I believed God was saying to me and as I stilled myself inside, I wasn’t disappointed, although this often came in surprising and unexpected ways. We came away both challenged and encouraged with things to chew over.

This was an ideal place for someone like myself, recovering from M.E. – chronic fatigue – as there were short level walks or ambles within the extensive grounds and places to just sit and admire the views. It’s the sort of thing that I would recommend for anyone, young or old, who wants to escape from the merry-go-round of everyday life for a while and discover who they are.

My wife is disabled and I was on hand to assist where needed. Also, although they had made every effort to make the old building accessible to all, there were steps to negotiate. On the last morning when I returned to the lobby after loading our car, someone I hadn’t spoken to, but had been observing me all week, turned to me on his way out and almost as an aside said, “You’re doing a good job!” and vanished before I could comment.  I thought, ‘was God saying that? ‘ Either way, it was just what I needed to hear and rounded things of for me nicely.