Celebrating Lessons Learned

By Linda Grupp Boutin

10-30-15—Getting Ahead in NaNoWriMo 2015

Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. Not as the world gives do I give to you. Let not your hearts be troubled, neither let them be afraid. John 14:27

     I went to see Dr. Holland on Tuesday and she provided me with much to think about as my week progressed. She said I am a survivor. Also noted, she predicted that I would live another 20 years. When I asked why she thought such a thing, especially since she was checking how I was doing after a 2-week hospital stay, she said because she had seen me for the last 20 years. Given my many digestive and kidney crises over those years, it seemed a strange prognostication to me. However, given the checkered pattern of my health since my early 20s, she does have a basis for saying I am a survivor.

     She also mentioned that she would like to see me write a book because there are so many things I had to have learned over the course of the last 40 years. She is correct about me learning some important lessons through trials, but sometimes I am afraid to share them with others. Today I am setting aside those fears and trusting my readers.

     First and most importantly, I have learned that we are not in control. No matter how hard we plan out our lives, set goals, follow rules or flaunt them, God is in control. I have tried to hang onto the reins of my life, all for naught. When God says, “You will survive," you do survive. And when God says, “I am taking you home,” you go and join Him in the hereafter. We may try to intervene, but unless we commit suicide, He is in control.

Celebrating a God-created collaboration

     Another hard-won lesson is that positive thinking takes us very much further and in a happier, more contented way, than negative thinking. In my experience, there is nothing more poisonous to a human psyche than bitterness. Jesus gave us a couple of rules that apply here. Love God. Love others as yourself. I add: Treat others as you want to be treated. Life is not fair, nobody ever promised that life would be fair. So stop whining, put a smile on your face, even when you don’t want to, and keep on keeping on. Stay busy and you will feel your pain less. Give thanks for the smallest of blessings and when the big ones come along, give thanks some more.

     Recently I lost a beloved pet, our dog Kindu. I promise my dogs on the day that they enter my life, that I will never let them suffer. And the hardest thing for me to do is follow through on that promise. It means when life becomes too difficult and painful for my pet, I must make the hard decision to inflict pain on myself by letting them go to their rest. Kindu was much tougher of a decision because nothing was ever too clear-cut for him. So my husband and I worked together for 9 months to fight for the life of our “boy.” The empathy I felt for him overwhelmed me because his disease was digestive, like mine. When he couldn’t eat or drink for 2 days, when he continued to lose weight despite our best efforts, the decision was made for us. Time for the boy to rest. We have cried together over and over for his loss, but that is another lesson, pain is part of life. 

The day we brought Kindu home

     I once read a book by a doctor who treated people with leprosy. This disease robs the person of their sensation of pain. While helping people in poverty-stricken countries, he observed his patients loss of the sensation of pain could no longer protect their injured limbs and appendages. Because of their loss of sensation, they lost fingers, toes and even limbs to injuries. Anyone who suffers from neuropathy knows the problem, pain is necessary to successfully navigate in our world. This doctor even named his book “The Gift of Pain.” Something they do not tell you about in our fairy-tale culture.

     There is a natural cycle to life. Our bodies try to strive towards wellness up until our final breath. Someone I know decided it was their time for death. However God did not agree. They survived their crisis and came to enjoy life again. The will to live is often stronger than we anticipate. If anyone had told me at 20 all that I would need to endure to live, I would have scoffed. But as I said earlier, we are not in control. Had I been born in an earlier time or a different country, the outcome may have been different. But my health has been supported in the United States with our current technology against all the odds. Much to the happiness of my friends and loved ones.

     Another lesson I have learned is to listen first and listen well. This is not to say that I always manage this, but I do try. Especially when talking to doctors because sometimes the news they must give is particularly painful. I have had the joy of working with a small number of doctors over a lifetime. I have also had the good luck of many superior doctors working on my case. I thank the Lord for guiding me to healing hearts and hands that have been so concerned about my life.

     One of the tactics I have learned over the years is to take my anger out on the disease. When I studied taekwondo, punching the air repeatedly was a daily exercise. I would get bored with the repetitions until I began envisioning my punches defeating the digestive disease I endured. This made my workout more fun and seemed to mobilize my immune system at the same time. Another time I decided to take up roller-blading after a long hospitalization. This year I have decided to take up the NaNoWriMo challenge of writing 1500 words per day in November. Tonight I have been warming up while writing this. Almost 1000 words today so far.

     In previous years when I have taken up this challenge I have failed miserably. Sporadic writing days, stretching to reach the magical 1500 words, kind of like today! And yet, having failed I also love to go back and read what I wrote. It gives me such insight into what was on my mind in those years. In retrospect, although I could not finish the challenge, I am happy I made the effort to try. This year I can do better than previous tries. A special challenge to myself! From a caring doctor who believes that I can!

Celebrating "The Lord Is My Shepherd"

By Linda Grupp Boutin

I returned to church this morning after missing for the last three weeks. Two of the last three Sundays I spent in the hospital and it drives me wild when I cannot go when we are in the middle of a new sermon series. Pastor Brian launched a new series called "Sojourn: Life as Temporary Residents" emphasizing that the Earth is just our temporary home. Nothing like two weeks in the hospital with my digestion shut down to bring this to a fine point.

Today's sermon explored 1 Peter 2: 19-25 and he opened his message with the question "How do you respond when life isn't working out like you planned?" Shortly afterward he followed up with a second question, "What is God's desire for us?" I must admit these hit home with me given that one more time He rescued me from the hospital and restarted my balky digestion. One more time!

I know I have a tough time responding well when I land in the hospital. I didn't want to go to the ER, but my close friend called me and hearing how sick I was, insisted that I go. Both Gary and I knew how badly I had been feeling, but after the events of the last 10 months another trip to the hospital seemed simply impossible. Yet Cathy's clarity of the need for help became clear and we went.

In today's sermon, our pastor advised that Peter is counseling the church to live an excellent life doing good and be submissive to God's will for us. During both the music we sang and in the message I found myself repeatedly tearing up, trying to wipe those tears away without notice by those sitting around me.

As soon as I sat down, Gary pointed out to me that the bottom of the sermon notes wrapped up with the 23rd Psalm. He knows that it is one of my favorites and reading it in 1986 helped me decide to agree to the surgery that turned my life around. I submitted the decision to God and let the surgeons do what they needed to do to preserve my life. Afterwards during my recovery I regained the ability to eat again and no longer had to rely on intravenous nutrition for all my food. When the doctors still look at my x-rays, they scratch their heads and wonder how anything at all makes it through my tortured digestive tract.

So what is God's desire for me in my life? I believe He has been preparing me to declare His Miracle in more and more ways. I first began declaring Him in the Aspiring Writers' Forum. Next I worked with our Coffee Break speakers encouraging the women of our congregation to share their walk with the Lord in our once-a-month woman's ministry. I shared my story in February 2012 and it changed my life for the good.

Pastor Brian's final question summed up the whole message for me, "Where does God want to use your submissive life to transform another's life?" Of course, Jesus is the model for us that we can never live up to no matter how we try. He wrapped up the whole message with a careful reading of the 23rd Psalm and there was no stopping the tears for me.

Psalm 23 New American Standard Bible (NASB)
A Psalm of David.
1
The Lord is my shepherd,
I shall not want.
2
He makes me lie down in green pastures;
He leads me beside quiet waters.
3
He restores my soul;
He guides me in the paths of righteousness
For His name’s sake.

4
Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,
I fear no evil, for You are with me;
Your rod and Your staff, they comfort me.
5
You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies;
You have anointed my head with oil;
My cup overflows.
6 
Surely goodness and lovingkindness will follow me all the days of my life,
And I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.

And this simple Psalm sums up my life for me. I lie down in green pastures and beside the still waters. I have walked through the valley of the shadow of death and with His gentle Hand upholding me returned to try again for another day. He has prepared a table before me in the oddest of ways and my cup does overflow. His goodness and lovingkindness do follow me. And I believe that my faith and His grace will secure a place for me in the house of the Lord forever.

My friends and me the night I spoke at CoffeeBreak, (left to right) Cathy, Darlene, me, Coleene

Celebrating a Special Lady

By Linda Grupp Boutin

Mesmerized, I loved to watch her hands at work. It didn't matter if she kneaded bread, guided bits of cloth through the sewing machine creating a new dress, or if they flew across the keys of the organ. If I positioned myself just right, I could observe her feet keeping time on the organ pedals while wondering how she could make her fingers hit the perfect notes to recreate, "I Left My Heart in San Francisco." No, she never got to live there, but it was still her favorite song and I recall many trips visiting friends and family in the vicinity of the Golden Gate Bridge. For me, so much of my memories of Mom include an image of her hands.

San Francisco (photo credit: Deborah Ganz)

Usually she worked on her manicure some time during the week, favoring vibrant pinks with hints of red. However, shortly after all her work either her gardening or cooking would chip up those carefully made up nails. I don't recall seeing her working on them too often, but she found time in her busy schedule to include this detail. Probably just before getting together with her girlfriends to play bridge while we were off to school.

Most of my childhood she played in two bowling leagues, a morning group for the Moms and a couples' evening group that both she and Dad participated in. Mom usually played a leadership role in these groups, treasurer or president. I remember her counting out the dues money and placing different amounts in little manila envelopes for First through Fifth place winners. There usually was a Booby Prize too for the person who did the worst in the league.

When I turned into a teenager, we moved back to Ft. Wayne, Indiana and I became her oldest child living at home. This changed our relationship since Mom had none of my nine older brothers and sisters nearby to talk to about things. So when I returned from spending the summer with my older sister Joyce's family, Mom stopped in my bedroom one night as I was getting ready for bed.

She had been working as a real estate lady in California for about a year just before an earthquake unsettled my dad and he made us move back to Indiana. She liked working after spending 30+ years being a housewife and mother of dozen kids. Before she took up real estate, Mom cooked, cleaned and looked after our family with few diversions and distractions

But when we relocated to Indiana, she learned that the real estate licensing laws were a bit different for those in California. She had taken courses at a vocational school in the San Fernando Valley about a year before we moved and passed her real estate licensing exam on the first try. However Indiana required her to take college courses which had her very concerned.

"What's the problem, Mom? You're the smartest person I know. You'll be a whiz at those college classes."

"I'm not worried about the classes," she explained, "It's the application to take the classes."

"The application," I asked, "Why should that be a problem?"

"They want to know what high school I graduated from..." she trailed off leaving me completely puzzled.

"Well just fill in what high school you graduated from," seemed simple enough to me.

"Well the high school burned down and all the records were lost," she replied.

Now Mother had just celebrated her 58th birthday and all of this discussion about high school seemed just ridiculous to me.

"I don't see the problem, Mom, you are way smarter than the high schoolers I go to school with. Just fill in the high school and let them figure out the records." There, solved, no muss, no fuss.

She looked away and fessed up what the real problem on her mind was. "It's just that I never got to graduate from high school." She stared out the bedroom window, looking much like the 16-year-old in me felt.

"You never graduated?" This took a moment to sink in for me. Education came highly prized in this household with my parents usually springing extra money that was tight to send us to parochial school from first through twelfth grade.

"No, Mom and Dad made me quit because Mom was so sick and needed me to stay home and help with the younger kids." I had never met my grandmother on Mom's side because she had passed away from cancer long before I was born.

"And the high school you went to burned down and all the records were lost?"

"Yes, so it's a real problem," she said.

"So they can't even check the records?" my mind began spinning with possibilities. "Mom just put down that you went to that high school and graduated. They can't check and you will be able to get your real estate license again!"

"You really think I should?"

"You'll do great in those classes. Get yourself enrolled and take that licensing exam as soon as you can." And she did. When the semester ended, she had aced all her classes and before we had been in Indiana for a year, went back to selling real estate. I felt so proud of her.

Mom's picture for her real estate flyers

By the following summer, we sat across for one another at the dining room table organizing her Multiple Listing Services real estate books. "Now, Mom, tell me more about when you were a kid, and learning about music, and taking care of your younger brothers and sisters."

Proverbs 31:25-30 ESV
Strength and dignity are her clothing, and she laughs at the time to come. She opens her mouth with wisdom, and the teaching of kindness is on her tongue. She looks well to the ways of her household and does not eat the bread of idleness. Her children rise up and call her blessed; her husband also, and he praises her: “Many women have done excellently, but you surpass them all.” ...

Celebrating A Woman of God

By Linda Grupp Boutin

Aunt Mary entered this world 40 years earlier than me. She became a constant in my life when I first remember her stopping by our house to visit in Indiana when I was about 5. Visits from any and all aunts, uncles, grandparents, family of all kinds caused extreme excitement among us kids. A family with a dozen children can be intimidating for anyone to visit and we cherished those who came bringing fresh ideas and things to do and talk about.

My Aunt Mary ranked high among those bringing unfamiliar concepts and ideas. She taught me about social justice before I ever reached my  teens. She brought along the most interesting people, like George from Germany, Tony who always drove a VW Bug his whole life, oh and by the way, she herself drove one of those VW Van Conversions made for camping with a stove built in and everything.

She often loaded the van to the gills, overflowing with medications for a run to the Tijuana health clinic she helped build. Another time she would load the seats with clothes for the poor in tent city, filling the area behind the seats with 50 pound bags of rice and beans and cases of eggs she picked up on her way south at the egg farm. Aunt Mary didn't just talk about social justice, she demonstrated it nearly every time I saw her.

When I was 20, Mary came to attend my mom's funeral. We drove through the streets near the San Fernando Mission Cemetery heading over to my brother, Pete's, house. As we pulled up she asked me if I thought she should retire early to have more time to work with the poor in Tijuana. I asked her if she could afford to do it. She thought about it for a moment and said she thought it wouldn't be a problem. So I answered that I thought it would be a good idea.

Around that same time she explained to me that she was a charismatic Catholic. At that time I didn't understand what she meant by that, but by watching I learned that it meant a much more personal relationship with God than I understood from my Catholic schoolgirl days. It meant that following Jesus' example was the cornerstone of Mary's life. But I am getting ahead of myself.

A mere one year later, Gary and I moved to East San Diego County after we married. This was Aunt Mary's favorite place and although she lived nearly an hour to the south, she stopped in to visit us regularly. She loved our little farmette with chickens, goats, dogs and cats o'plenty. She roared up our dirt driveway in her VW van and we just never knew what wonders she would bring out from inside. When we were experimenting with raised-bed gardening, she brought up a couple dozen strawberry plants started in an odd assortment of coffee cans. We never hungered for the luscious, red berries after planting them. The plants went wild and I could hardly keep up with picking all of them.

She brought coffee cans another time too, but this time filled with snails she had plucked out of her own garden. Before I could faint at the sight of all those snails, she exclaimed that the chickens would just love them. She headed straight over to the chicken coop, invited me to join her in the door, and scattered the snails all over the fresh hay covering the ground. I never saw those chickens so excited before that, they consumed the snails with such a voracious hunger that you might think they had never been fed in their lives. Those hens and roosters just must have listened for that van coming up the drive, such wondrous treats came hidden inside.

As illness overtook my life the second summer we were married. Aunt Mary made time to take me to the doctor and tests and whatever else she could. It was around that time that her parting advice to me was always, "Linda, don't overdo!" I knew it pained her to see me wasting away and then tethered to machines for all my nutrition. She believed in healthy eating and how could everything needed for life come from intravenous chemicals. She shared with me her many techniques for eating better, but still I could not eat.

Occasionally she invited me to accompany her on her forays to Tijuana. I had never seen such poverty in my whole life. It shocked me until we arrived at tent city and I witnessed how important Mary was to that small community. The children came running to her van and she passed out eggs which they swallowed raw to my amazement. She took me to the clinic and Mother Catherine's convent too. She always made sure to get me home on time to take care of my medical needs too.

Celebrating A New Way to See

By Linda Grupp Boutin

I opened my eyes one morning wondering,"March 1, 2015? How can this be?"

Looking at my posts I realize I last published in mid-November...how can this be?

I had made up my mind this holiday season--we would enjoy every holiday from Thanksgiving through New Year's Day. So many days I had lost to hospital stays, feeling sick, going to doctor's appointments. Yep, this year we would have a wonderful Christmas and a Happy New Year in 2015.

The fatal flaw in this plan? Thinking I could do it all in just my own strength. A certain arrogance about believing I could make this happen without even praying for a bit of help from the Lord. For a lifetime I have endured smack down after smack down trying to learn this hard-won lesson.

I opened my eyes this morning wondering, "March 31, 2015? Are you kidding me?" A full month has passed and I am still working on the same post? And for that matter, what has happened to the first three months of 2015. How did my plan go so far astray...again...

Rereading my post from November 2014 after breakfast, I began to understand a bit of what has happened in the first three months of this year. It is titled "Celebrating a Miracle Every Day." And although this new year has been tough, the miracles I have witnessed just keep multiplying and multiplying. As in November, there are the daily kind, like the sparrow so proud in the plum tree holding a puff of pink fluff, just the type to form a perfect base for his nest. The moon, nearing full, lighting the night before me. My dog still dancing at the end of his leash on every walk, enjoying life while enduring an illness...

Painted by Pamela Howett

There are the big miracles too of 2015, like my mother-in-law surviving a hemorrhage, difficult illness and going on and off of hospice within 6 weeks, recovery unexpected but prayed for manifest before our very eyes! Challenges persist, like waiting for my husband's knee replacement surgery, a date we are still waiting for and praying that the surgeon's hands be guided by the Great Healer.

All through these difficult weeks, our pastor kept leading us weekly through the book of Jonah, insisting that it was much more than a story about a big fish! Really? A prophet running away from the Lord who provides and denying His prompting to go to Nineveh. A man in rebellion from God insisting on pursuing his own course. A human being making mistake after mistake until finally reluctantly relenting and preaching for one whole day in Nineveh. Watching the populace of the city from above and sticking to his very own very limited perspective of the scene unfolding below the shady vine provided by God to shade his brow. Wondering why God should grant the Ninivites grace so undeserved...ignoring God's Big Picture of Grace while sticking to his own limited view...

More than the story of a man enduring a storm, being thrown overboard, a big fish swallowing the man, keeping him in its stomach for 3 days, vomiting him up just a day's walk away from where God had prompted him to go? How exactly does someone look after 3 days in the digestive acid of the stomach of a big fish anyway? Not too good, I think...

Now wait just one second, if it's not the story of a big fish and a limited perspective of a man, than what is the story about? And then Pastor Brian unfolds all these weeks of study to reveal the Bigger Perspective. One that Jonah could never fathom and I usually miss as well. I glimpsed it once though...

On a cold winter day my brother had convinced us to join him and his family on the ski slopes for an introduction to one of his favorite pastimes.The bunny slope presented this klutzy girl with problems enough, namely getting back up on those darned skis whenever I fell down. Greg laughed as he helped me regain my skis while my coordinated husband took right to these over-sized boots and long sticks we stood on. After a morning's struggle, Greg announced it was time for us to tackle the more adult slope. Really? 

We hopped on board side by side and the tiny seat sped along the lift at a most alarming  rate. The ground dropped away so swiftly I clung to my husband just wanting to shut my eyes and pretend I was back home safely tucked in our warm home. Funny, I think Jonah may have felt just this way curled in the bottom of the ship trying to ignore the storm smashing around him. Gary kept telling me to look while I hid my face in his arm; boots, skis, and legs dangling in the wind rushing past.

He kept nudging me and I relented and peeked out. And then I saw the Bigger Picture, the mountains looming large around us, the tiny pines below, it took my breath away to see such a beautiful landscape spread out before my view. And for once, I understood why skiing appealed to so many. It wasn't just the boots and skis, the speed as the skier worked their way down the slope, quickly and nimbly like Greg, or slowly and timidly like me. To begin to grasp a larger, more heavenly perspective, we humans must step outside our normal boundaries and take the larger view.

I must admit that I spent most of January in a panicked state, praying for my mother-in-law and dog to overcome their illnesses. Too much  of February I spent coughing and battling my own maladies. And March, I spent trying to breathe again and looking for a larger view about my personal challenges of 2015. Reflecting back on March I realize I have again had to expand my perspective and turn closer than ever to  the Lord who sustains me. Pastor Brian could not have had any better timing in explaining that the story of Jonah is about more than a big fish, it is about learning a new way of seeing, it is about trying to look more with God's perspective versus staying stuck in my own small world view.

Celebrating a Miracle Every Day

By Linda Grupp Boutin

     Have you ever witnessed a miracle? This might depend upon how you define one. Over a lifetime I have learned that if you keep open to the wonders around you, you might very well witness many miracles every single day. Merriam-Webster defines “miracle” as: an extraordinary event manifesting divine intervention in human affairs; an extremely outstanding or unusual event, thing or accomplishment. This definition classifies miracles into two broad categories; the first credits divine intervention or God and the second focuses on outstanding or unusual. My premise is to look beyond the usual into the amazing things we ignore because of everyday familiarity. When you adopt this perspective, you open your eyes to the divine.

     For instance, did you notice the full moon we enjoyed last week? Shining overhead, dispelling the darkness and opening our view to a new outlook. Think about the everyday wonder of our little planet having a moon at all. It exerts tremendous influence over the health of our Earth. For our ancestors, who didn’t enjoy the convenience of electricity, this heavenly body provided extra light to finish up harvesting, directions for navigators, and precise timing to set our calendars to a month by month system. It controls tides, affects behavior of animals and humans, keeps Earth from wobbling in its orbit too badly.

    Gary and I have been moon watchers since our second or third date. We went for a swim in the condo complex’s pool on a cold winter night. After getting in a good workout, we moved over to the Jacuzzi, turned on the jets and warmed up under the stars. There was a full moon out that night and Gary pointed it out to me. We admired it together and christened it our “streetlamp” when we made the run back to the condo in the cold. Later we began calling it God’s Streetlamp remembering the One who placed it there.

     As time passed and our relationship deepened, we often chose to rename things in our own ways. After leaving my mother’s funeral about 6 months later, Gary showed me the magnificent purple blooming trees lining the street leading out of the cemetery. He asked me what it was named and I didn’t have the slightest idea what they were called. Flippantly, I told them that they were California Purple-Flowering Trees. Later we learned the correct name was jacaranda, but we still sometimes call them our pet name. Another 6 months later we found ourselves facing breast cancer again, this time with his mom. As challenges enter our lives, it becomes our choice and responsibility to embrace them and work our way through them, or throw our hands in the air and run for the nearest way out. Somehow those difficulties weigh a little less when you take time to notice the wonderful and amazing stuff around us. Happily his mom survived her illness and has been a part of our lives for another 38 years.

Jacaranda tree in May

     One daily pick-me-up are the sunsets that I love and point out when I see one spreading across the sky. Gary explained to me early on that God had gotten out his paint box and colored the sky just for us. We pray over seeds when we plant them and notice the wonders around us and share them. We have ridden ski lifts to the top of the mountain, literally made breathless by the mountain view displayed before us. It is a matter of taking the time to notice the crows cawing overhead, the hummingbird zipping among the blossoms and the butterfly flitting through the flowers. It keeps our childlike wonder alive even though we were not blessed with children by God.

     Most recently Gary came running in the front door with a brown praying mantis that he had rescued from the street. Our very first year together he came in carrying a baby chick just newly hatched from our chicken coop. Another time it was our first baby goat, damp and newborn, but calling loudly for its mama to rescue it from this big man. Any stray spider wandering in our home is gently captured and carried to the plants outdoors on the front porch. It is a choice we make to value life and all its wonders. And for us, this means acknowledging our Creator, God, in all the magnificence He surrounds us with from the moment we open our eyes.

     So how about you? You can start right this instant. Take a moment to examine your hand and fingers. Have you ever thought about how intricately they are made? Notice the swirls of your fingerprints and handprint and remember that these were specially formed for just you. Will you choose to employ it in our Provider’s work, honoring Him with how you use them? From the hair on your head to the blood coursing through your veins, you are wonderfully made. Now take this perspective and apply it to all around you and I guarantee you will have a better day for it, no matter what the challenges are that you face.