faith
The streets were crowded in that early evening of mid December in Ahmadabad, India. The court order for custody of my daughter had been signed. We crossed the treacherous threshold to the ashram and wound our way to the entrance for that last visit. My daughter would be soon in my full-time care and no longer a ward of the State of Gujarat. For six months, I had jokingly told the lawyer there that when the order for Ahsha’s custody was signed, the heavens would cry for joy and Gujarat would get its rain. The monsoon had been virtually nonexistent that year. As we entered the dimly lit ashram from the gently falling rain, a clap of lightening descended with a thunderous roar and all went black in those halls of Odhav. Suddenly, candles arrived as we were escorted to the Superintendent’s office. Mosquitoes, drawn by the candle light, were so thick I had to cover my mouth and nose with one hand while signing the release papers with the other. In the candle glow, my daughter, wrapped in a blanket I had purchased for her six months prior, was handed to me. I held her close as tears of joy streamed down my face in gratitude that we were finally together. As we drove away from the ashram, the rain pummeled the packed earth, quenching its thirst. We soon arrived at the home of our host to the exclamation of a neighbor in the doorway, shouting with arms raised to heaven; “all of India is blessed because of this child.” Although much more had to be accomplished, the expression of gratitude and blessing that evening would serve as fuel for the journey that lie ahead. Faith, hope, and love have sustained through the years as God’s mercy and grace have been poured out. ( Thirty years ago now seems like yesterday, and thankful for every day since!)
In the old Tarzan films you see the poorly verbalized but nevertheless wise hero thrust himself from one steady position to the promise of another by means of a non-tethered but sturdy vine. Conveniently, the vine seems waiting to become the host for the journey to a new destination either away from the dangers that seem to invade the old or toward one that surely guarantees yet another intriguing adventure. The reasonable props for the execution of the dramatic move must be a hefty element of trust in the reasonable safety and security of the vine along the journey and faith that the destination location will sustain the weight of the landing. Leaving the old and arriving at the precipice of the new has within it elements of excitement, fear, revelation, and grief. As the host to (unwilling or not) the dwelling of various Parkinson’s symptoms, this not so agile (hero?) one grasps the vine with all his strength for the journey to a new adventure. The location is still the forest, but the vista is changing as the light of an adjusted pathway is illuminated. Gratitude remains the cover that blankets the footing from the old to the new and a thankful heart beats to the call of discovery.
Wake up and preparation are but a faint memory of that day when “cardioversion” was scheduled. We were at the hospital outpatient center by 7:30 a.m., and taken swiftly into the procedure room after signing all the required forms. Among my companions were uncertainty, an attempt at emotional distance, a bit of fear and anxiety, but each was packed as neatly as I could muster within my pocket of faith and trust. The prep nurse was a delightful young lady with two small children who had moved to the area to be near her father and stepmother. Her husband was so grieving their previous home in Panama City that they were in the process of finalizing their move back to Florida. She facilitated my comfort as best she could while securing an EKG and the necessary hookup to the heart monitor showing pulse and blood pressure. Inserting the needle for the IV was a bit more challenging as the first site started to swell immediately. An apt apology and a resignation that this was a part of the day’s journey created the space for a successful second attempt. While the nurse was securing the final diagnosis of atrial flutter, the CRNA arrived and introduced himself before securing answers to questions already rendered upon check in. I posed the question as to his residential background and learned that he had grown up in the area, had graduated from a well known college in the State and was married to a pharmacist at the hospital who was also from the local area. They have one son in his freshman year in college not far away, and they have a farm on which they raise goats with intentions of acquiring beef cattle. He shared with me that they were looking to buy some more land, perhaps in the county in which we live in North Carolina. I gave him a couple of locations that I know have been for sale just before the Cardiologist arrived. The Cardiologist and I commiserated on the excellent talent of the young folks in the recent performance of Godspell, the musical we both attended the previous weekend. As he placed the “electrode” pads on my chest and back he reflected how good the comedy performances were at the same theater. The anesthesiologist suddenly arrived and introduced himself as the nurse anesthetist informed me that the “propophol” was being administered. I jokingly said “I guess it’s time to say good night.” At first I only experienced an odd taste, and then the heavy weight of sleep descended upon me. In what seemed like only seconds, I was slowly waking to an empty room except for the young nurse who was telling me that the procedure had not accomplished its intended end. The Cardiologist had four times stopped my heart to then “shock” it back to what was hoped to be a normal rhythm. All four times my heart returned to its previous fluttering state. My blood pressure was exceptionally low and as soon as it began its ascent to a reasonable state of normal, I would be allowed to leave. My left shoulder felt as if it had been hit by a semi. Where the pad was located on my chest, about the size of one’s hand, the skin was tender and raw. I felt completely exhausted as I put on my clothes and was led to the waiting car so lovingly driven by Ray. The Pensacola bound nurse handed me the “after procedure” instructions along with an appointment date for the follow-up visit to the Cardiologist. Exhausted and thankful for being alive we sped away from the hospital to arrive at home for an afternoon of recuperation. Tucking the question of “what next” in the bag of gratitude, this Parkinson’s palpating patient laid down for a long afternoon nap!
There were days when the wind seemed relentless blowing from the northwest. A small five inch piece of siding lost its grip and a tiny space under the eaves became loosened just enough for a mating grackle to wedge her way into the waiting space. Debris from the compost pile littering the top of the air conditioning condenser was the first clue that something out of the ordinary was transpiring. Peering out of the kitchen window, we witnessed the grackle fly toward the space with dried grass sprigs as she builds her nest soon to be host to multiple eggs. A faulty flashing presented the opportunity for nature’s child to host an incubator for a new generation. How often do we see what appears to be a problem when someone else has seen it as an opportunity? It is in challenges that we learn the meaning of victory. It is in hardships that we learn perseverance. Sometimes it is less important to focus on what we see and more important to understand how we see it. The Apostle Paul instructed the believers in Thessalonica to “Rejoice always, pray continually, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus.” (1 Thessalonians 5:16-18) Note the instruction is not to give thanks FOR all circumstances, but IN all circumstances. May our eyes be opened to the possibilities that lie before us as we step in faith toward each new day!
Patiently she sits over her clutch of eggs anticipating the moment of new life emerging from the treasured orbs she and her flock mates have contributed. Warmth from her body heat serves as the perfect incubator that ignites the embryonic genesis of new life that has begun within the shell. Contained therein are all the nutrients and raw materials that are necessary for the emergence of a fully formed young chicken. Left unattended, the chick would be denied its birthright and perish in the confines of the shell intended to be its safe haven. There is much we can learn from the developmental process of the peep. Unattended diet and exercise in we who are human will surely lead to an earlier diminution of strength and flexibility. Furthermore, thankfulness for what we have already received provides generative sustenance that enriches the growth environment. Gratitude is the incubator from which emerges a life rich with the nutrients of faith and filled with the warmth of grace!
A new day dawns with a chill embracing the freshly blooming plants and fruit trees on the farm. From the window the fields look warm and inviting. Just a step outside brings forth a different reality of winter’s futile last grasp on a shifting planet. Whether warm or chilled, nature moves on in her never ceasing cycle, producing her best through all circumstances. Memories of seasons past give reason for hope as we look to what lies ahead. Sometimes in the midst of temporary challenges, one pauses to recall that like the fluctuations in the seasons, the body too has its moments of change. A constant presence through highs and lows is the “Author and finisher of faith.” In challenges and in victories; in barriers and defeat; there in the midst is the soul provider reminding one that “I am not my own.” Gratitude fills this heart as it pours out words and prayers of thankfulness to the giver of grace and mercy!
An unwelcomed alarm rang as this winter inhabitant lay deep in sleep beneath the warm confines of the sheets and cover. A slow moan of protest served only as a prompter to arise from the fetal position as feet were inserted into the waiting slippers. A tug at the ready sweatshirt pulling it over head and torso preceded a stumble to the door commanding the dog to get her business done. With every movement a near calamity met with resistance and aches, this day had the beginnings of a challenge. The stirring of wood embers remaining from last evening’s fire served as the ignition for the new log gently inserted in the mouth of the old stove. Morning medication consumed, the waiting was now on for the chill to be taken from the air in the old farmhouse. Movements once taken for granted with speed and dexterity today seemed painfully intentional and resistant. Determination set in and a trip to the gym soon ensued. As fuel to frustration the roads were crowded and the gymnasium was packed with slow moving, texting and gawking time killers. Reason said I had no deadlines to meet but temperament said “get out of my way.” Recalling my own advice, I went to a place of prayer in which thanks and gratitude were expressed. I found some relief, but my mood and stiffness of movement remained as instigators of further unrest. Each chore of the day has seemingly taken on a unique challenge of its own. I continue to utter words and thoughts of thankfulness in faith that “this too shall pass.” Without the rough spots we wouldn’t know what the smooth spots were like!
Ripples on the pond reflect the glow of the rising sun as dawn breaks from the east. The bright full moon still glows as it appears to descend upon the trees in the west. The cycle of night into day has made its way across the horizon and the presence of life bustles all around. Gone are the cares of yesterday as the screen of today is refreshed in the seeming newness of life. The Bible verse, Psalm 118:24 rings out “This is the day the Lord has made; let us be glad and rejoice in it.” Today, right now is the time to live in gratitude for another opportunity in the world of potentially endless possibilities. Today is the day that the words of Horatio Spafford come alive: “What ever my lot, Though has taught me to say, it is well, it is well with my soul.” Gratitude is the fuel that propels the engine of faith. May this day make the best use of your vehicle!
Skies are often blue from the sun’s brightness on a clear day. On other days the sky is grey from overcast clouds blocking the direct rays of the sun. As evening comes, the earth’s rotation takes our location away from the direct view of our warming orb. A cloudy day or a darkened night does not mean the sun does not exist. Because symptoms of pain, stiffness, or other discomforts may be the experience of the present does not mean the existence of relief has ceased. One does not embrace a cloudy day as a means of driving it away. One goes about one’s day regardless of the clouds surrounding. Symptoms may be obstructive, but they need not be destructive. Gratitude in the midst of clouds brings sunshine to the soul in need of light. May your day be lighted with thankfulness!