Pardon Me, Would You Give Me Six Weeks of Your Life?

     I've just spent six weeks in the hospital. Not as a patient, but, along with my family and I, providing around the clock care for my mother, who by the way, only went in for a cracked wrist.

     We have experienced what I would call a 'tragedy of errors' cause it sho wern't a comedy. The unnamed hospital did their utmost to aid her in every way but could not stop the onset of double pneumonia, a staff infection, blood clots passing through her heart and ending in her lungs on two separate occasions, at which she had no pulse or blood pressure which resulted in a stint in ICU for a week. Those were very close calls. But the medicating that they WERE in charge of was the thing that really almost did her in.

     We had absolutely no idea how sensitive to medication/drugs/narcotics/chemicals that she actually was until she was administered the first dose of anything. I won't use the names of any of the meds. but I will say they swung from pain killers to anti-anxiety medicine to sleep aids to OTC's that are quite common to use for allergic reactions. She had catatonic reactions to each and everything they gave her. Who knew?

     Our days melted into nights that were long and sleepless. And when I say sleepless that means without any sleep of any kind and no shutting of the eyes, at all. The first pill that was given her to help her to rest, sent her into a 3-1/2  day, non-stop, hallucination trip where we tended to children that weren't in the corner, hung invisible things up, and squished bugs on the ceiling with our feet. She insisted that I help her do these things with her. No one could leave her side for a moment, she snatched her splint off along with everything else she was attached to, repeatedly. Because of her strength and flexibility, she would swing her legs over the bed rails and try to get out of bed. She would bolt straight up in bed and say, "Help me". This plea was repeated every few minutes throughout the entire hospital stay. Her pleading haunted me.

     During this time we let her doctor go and brought another on board. His new meds. sent her into a 2 1/2 day of the same thing. We went days on end with no sleep, staying on watch, all for one purpose and one purpose only. To keep our mother alive. We stood in the gap for her.

     We wrote everything in a notebook, we logged anything and everything that was done to her or needed to be done for her. We asked questions, insisted on action to be taken in certain areas, we made request upon requests and demands upon demands. We had our sights on getting her out alive AND have her comfortable while she was having to be there.

     We went to extremely great lengths to save our mother. I have shared only a smidgen of what actually took place over the six weeks she was there. During that time I truly began to understand and ponder on what being an advocate truly meant. We were her advocates. We fought for her very life. And then I saw it...I remembered that WE also had an advocate. It was not the hospital administration, the nurses or the doctors. It was Jesus.

     When we were spiritually sick and dying from the cause and effects of sin, Jesus, with everything He had inside of Him, fought for us. He went through severe deprivation and sacrifice to see to it that we were cared for and comforted. That everything that we would need would be provided. He fought for our very lives. He stood by us never to walk away and leave us unprotected. We were worth it to Him. He gave His very life to save our lives. It was an exchange that only an advocate could make.

     Upon emerging from this unforgettable experience, I now truly appreciate this aspect of my Savior's willingness to rescue me from death. While I was dying, He sought me out and became my go-between Man. I never knew the depths of this mighty act until I became an advocate myself. I guess that's where the saying comes from, '"Oh....I see!", said the blind man.' 

"My little children, these things write I unto you, that ye sin not. And if any one sin, we have an advocate with the Father, Jesus Christ the Righteous." I John 2:1

The Bonehead Cometh

   When I say these words tell me what you think of first. Pink Cadillacs...Mary Kay Cosmetics...yes. A pole with 2 snakes wrapped on it...universal symbol of medicine...yes. Three green arrows following each other in a circle...recycling...yes. The Rx symbol...a pharmacy...yes. A yellow smiley face...well, I'm from the 70's so I say it means 'have a happy day', for the rest of you, you might say Wal Mart. Okay, last one, ...skulls...

   Primitive cultures might argue that skulls were symbols of protection and well-being against evil. Cultures of today might say that they are simply a fashion trend. Since our culture likes this saying, 'It is what it is', I'm gonna say 'what it is'. Death. That's right it's a symbol of death. I don't wear skulls for that very reason, why do I want my t-shirt to shout death at everyone who looks at it? Or my beach towel, or my purse, or my jewelry? I'm not about death, so I don't wear death anything. I'm not afraid of death, I just don't find any association with it. Why? Because I've already died. If you're blood bought, then you've died as well. Why do I need to don myself with tribal skull tattoos with smoking guns or bloody knives. What is the purpose for bearing this on my belongings or person? Without a word, what does it say?

   Ever since my granddaughter was about two she has, on her own, called skulls, boneheads. Which I think describes the situation very precisely. It's really more of the concept of us bearing symbols that represent ideas and truths for all to see what you think on the inside. Doves with olive branches in their mouth...peace. The dollar sign...money. The rainbow...it's a promise to my faith which has been stolen by another group that uses it to represent their liberal beliefs and celebrate their diversity. Surely, the effects of the bonehead cometh.

   Maybe it's because I'm such a representative person. I live large and loud with what I believe. I believe in representing. So, if you got your cross on around your neck, please leave it in the car while you buy your liquor. Do what you gotta do, just don't confuse others watching you. On your Facebook page pick one or the other, either post a scripture to your status OR join the group 'If you're talking behind my back you're in a good position to kiss my ___', but not both. Same thing for everyone that wants to know if children can have ice cream trucks then where is the frozen margarita truck for the adults. It's not representing who I thought we Christians were representing. I'm amazed, shocked really, at ones that have their names imprinted in the Lambs Book of Life that will cheer someone on that feels they need a cocktail to cope with life's crappy situations. 

   Have I lost touch with reality? Am I reading way too much into what God said about living holy? Have I taken sanctification way too seriously? Did I misunderstand the part about being an ambassador for Christ? Am I supposed to mix the boneheads with my everyday life? Does it even matter if I do or if I don't?

   Here is a quote from the book 'A More Excellent Way' by Henry W. Wright, "The Church is incredibly ignorant about its enemy." We Christians have an enemy, read John 10:10. Our enemy wants us to flop here, on earth, he wants you to cause others to flop, he doesn't care about after you're gone, just here. He wants to rub it in God's face, see what I've got your kids doing? When we don't represent the kingdom we pursue the bonehead cause.

   Matthew 7:20 says that Jesus said, "...by your fruits you will be known". Fruits are your lifestyle. That's how everyone around us will know who we represent is because of our lifestyle. I understand that we can blow it from time to time. Grace covers your boo boos. But when you deliberately set a time and day to meet with your friends to sip with and toast one another, grace gets put on the spot. One more representative for the God cause has hit the dust and one more onlooker doesn't trust our faith. We Christians are so mocked because of our inability to reject the practice of boneheadism.

   I want to interject here that I am not judging, I'm just describing the obvious effects that bonehead-denseness produces. I'm judging when I grab a gavel and make a decree of punishment because of the obvious fruit spoilage. No, that's not my place. But if I stand up and call 'it is what it is' it's only because I can't be silent when it comes to representing. Jesus would walk straight up to people and addressed their bonehead situation without holding back. Why would He do that? Because it was death to them. It was poison. It was decay. It was rot. He told many that thought they were doing the God thing the right way that they were "white washed tombs full of dead man bones". Tombs + Bones = Death. You get the picture?

   I'm speaking to the Christian culture. We were originally designed to be a counterculture, like the early church, instead of a sub-culture. A sub-culture shifts its convictions and viewpoints about right and wrong, good and evil, acceptable and unacceptable as society's culture shifts. A counterculture does not. It remains fixed and firm with its beliefs even through the changing of the times. The things we Christians will stand back and yawn at, 60 years ago would have caused people to have heart attacks right where they stood. Let me ask you, the things we allow through the airwaves and into our homes through our TV's, would you honestly let the very same thing take place, live, in your living room? The language? The nude-i-ness? The hate? The gore? Would you let someone reenact this in your living room? Live? With your family sitting right there? We've slipped into a bonehead coma!!!

   John Bevere says this in his book 'A Heart Ablaze', "Holiness transcends legalism as rules for dress, or hair, or what to eat. If you are living a holy lifestyle, you will automatically want to do things that bring God glory". So I want to ask you to do this, while you're in the middle of doing an activity, ask yourself, does this represent the God-glory? When you think of a fig leaf, what does it represent? Sin? The reason Adam and Eve covered themselves was because the God-glory had left them. Nothing but sin and bones!

   If I see someone entertaining a bonehead, I quickly maneuver into prayer position in front of my keyboard or car, I don't care, and claim the law of representation to go into effect. I don't have to say anything to anyone. I just pray the Ephesians 1:18 prayer..."the eyes of your understanding being enlightened, that you may know what is the hope of His calling...go ahead read to verse 23, it's good!

   Rise and represent you followers of the cause! Remember whose you are. Remember the name of the Christian game, Fruit Bearers. Remember our motto: Death To The Bonehead! Live To Represent! Remember our goal is not to confuse potential Christians with numb-skull choices. Remember to represent, all Jesus, all the time. Choose you this day life or death, blessing or cursing. Choose to represent. It is a LIFE or DEATH situation.
 

Life Is Not a Dress Rehearsal

   When a woman has her first child, something amazing happens...something new is created that has never existed before. A woman births, adopts or acquires a child, a miracle in itself, and then miraculously she changes into a mother. Something that she never was before.

   How or where do you even get training to be a mother? Everyday life is your training ground. Life on some days is a hard task master and on other days can be the sweetest of all instructors. And when it comes to rearing up the children, there are no dress rehearsals, it's the real performance, everyday, all day. What they see and hear on your stage is what they will perform on their own stages.

   You know what a dress rehearsal is don't you? You wear what you would wear in the real performance, you sing, say, or perform exactly what you are going to do in the real performance, but it's a mock performance. The audience is not there only technicians and the players. I call it the only time you get to boo boo. If you're gonna blow it, blow it at dress rehearsal, not the real performance. But in reality, there is grace for when we blow it, but stuff done and said in front of our childrens eyes and ears cannot be, like eggs, unscrambled.

   The miracle of motherhood brings forth from the woman a beauty that is beyond surface beauty. My mother always taught me, "Pretty is as pretty does". No make up can make up for inner beauty. A beautiful soul DOES  pretty things, not just LOOKS pretty. My mother also taught me that selfish is not part of the mother equation nor is giving up.

   If the mother/child relationship is going as planned, not only should your child be learning from you, but you should be learning from them also. I learned from my oldest that there is more than one way to get something done, she is persistent. My middle child taught me that smiles and laughter in the middle of hurts and disappointments are a strength, and my youngest has taught me to not to ever let go of my dreams. They WILL come true.

   I'm inserting my O right here, I believe mothers loosely but naturally 'know' the course that their child should follow and part of our call, as a mom, is to keep those things hidden in our hearts and pray for them to actively pursue the hidden things planted as we were rocking them and kissing their tiny hands and feet and looking at them in amazement as we wondered what they would become in their futures. That's how we just 'know' when a decision that is being made by our child is a good one or not. We gauge it to the hidden things of our hearts and compare it to the rocking days.

   My mama is the standard that I have to measure my own success as a woman, wife, and mother. She activated and set in motion my motherly skills like how to handle having children from different decades. And how to laugh later at the horrible nightmares that we put her through, that are now part of our family history and story telling. Also how to live off of 4 hours of sleep because her children were sick or hadn't come home yet, there is no sleeping during that time. One trick she learned to make things fun for us that I have passed on myself is cooking breakfast for dinner, we never knew that it was because groceries were low. She could whip the daylights out of us and we still knew that we were loved because she would hold our heads while we threw up and nurse us back to health, stay up all night to sew for us (even our Barbie clothes) and cook every single night for dinner and we sat every night at the dinner table. Yep. My mama is a Proverbs 31 woman.

   She knew there were no do-overs, she got one chance with us girls to form us and send us into our futures and with absolutely no mother conferences or mom support groups to attend she did and still does have the status of "The Best Mother I Could Have Ever Been Given". A dress rehearsal is to see if you can do it, a real life performance is you did do it! And she did do it! I will always be thankful for your gift of love to me mama, I love you!