Category: healing

Death, healing, Inspiration

When I Die: An Epitaph

Rev Kathy

 

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When I die, give what’s left of me away
to children and old men that wait to die.

And if you need to cry,
cry for your brother walking the street beside you.

And when you need me, put your arms around anyone
and give them what you need to give me.

I want to leave you something,
something better than words or sounds.

Look for me in the people I have known or loved,
and if you cannot give me away,
at least let me live in your eyes and not in your mind.

You can love me best by letting hands touch hands,
and by letting go of children that need to be free.

Love doesn’t die, people do.
So when all that’s left of me is love,
give me away.

– Epitaph By Merrit Malloy

In celebration of the life of Elizabeth Scott Hankins . . . Libby

June 16, 1993 – March 17, 2017

 

healing

Still Moving Toward Resurrection

Rev Kathy

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So here we are on this Lenten journey again, hoping that this time something will be different. We’re hoping that some great light will blind us for a brief moment and shake us out of the mundane lives we live. We’re still hoping that the remedy for the death of a soul is resurrection.

I found myself uncomfortably described in a meditation entitled “Living Lent” written by Barbara Cawthorne Crafton.

We didn’t even know what moderation was. What it felt like. We didn’t just work: we inhaled our jobs, sucked them in, became them. Stayed late, brought work home – it was never enough, though, no matter how much time we put in.

Suddenly we saw it all clearly: I am driven by my creatures – my schedule, my work, my possessions, my hungers. I do not drive them; they drive me. Probably yes. Certainly yes. This is how it is.

When did the collision between our appetites and the needs of our souls happen? Was there a heart attack? Did we get laid off from work, one of the thousands certified as extraneous? Did a beloved child become a bored stranger, a marriage fall silent and cold? Or, by some exquisite working of God’s grace, did we just find the courage to look the truth in the eye and, for once, not blink? How did we come to know that we were dying a slow and unacknowledged death? And that the only way back to life was to set all our packages down and begin again, carrying with us only what we really needed?

We travail. We are heavy laden. Refresh us, O homeless, jobless, possession-less Savior. You came naked, and naked you go. And so it is for us. So it is for all of us.

Still Moving Toward Resurrection. . .

Amen.

God's Faithfulness, God's presence, healing, Hope

Safe in God’s Care

Rev Kathy

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There are times when I need to draw close to God and stay there. There are moments that define us, and sometimes they are seasons of despair when prayer is the only thing to do. I have been through those hard seasons many times and found a way to reach out to God. I wanted to stay there, near to God’s heart of compassion, near to God’s glory, safe under God’s sheltering wings.

Peter, James and John found themselves on a high mountain with Jesus. Glory filled the place and the story tells us that Jesus became “as bright as a flash of lightening.” They wanted to stay there. Wouldn’t you? Peter, James and John were in the glow of the glory of Jesus. Peter spoke up and said, “We need to stay here, Master. Let us put up three shelters for you, Moses and Elijah. Let’s just stay here on this holy mountain.”

The story begins with Jesus praying in private with his disciples. He asked them, “Who do the crowds say I am?”

They replied by telling Jesus that some people were saying he was John the Baptist; others were saying he was Elijah. Others were saying that Jesus was one of the prophets of long ago who had come back to life. But Jesus wanted them to answer the question, “Who do you say I am?”

As he often did, Peter answered for the group. “God’s Messiah.”

Then Jesus strictly warned them not to tell this to anyone, predicting his imminent death and telling them that they would suffer as well. But then we get to the redeeming part of this story, the part that looks past the suffering and reveals the glory. Here is the Transfiguration text from the Gospel of Luke:

About eight days after Jesus said this, he took Peter, John and James with him and went up onto a mountain to pray. As he was praying, the appearance of his face changed, and his clothes became as bright as a flash of lightning. Two men, Moses and Elijah, appeared in glorious splendor, talking with Jesus. They spoke about his departure, which he was about to bring to fulfillment at Jerusalem. Peter and his companions were very sleepy, but when they became fully awake, they saw his glory and the two men standing with him. As the men were leaving Jesus, Peter said to him, “Master, it is good for us to be here. Let us put up three shelters—one for you, one for Moses and one for Elijah.”

– Luke 9:28-33 New International Version (NIV)

Without a doubt, the disciples of Jesus were about to enter one of those difficult life seasons. They would be tested to their limits, and would find themselves longing to draw close to Jesus once again and rest in that place of safety.

Mary Austin relates a story told by pastor and theologian Jennifer Bailey. (https://revgalblogpals.org/2017/02/21/narrative-lectionary-glory-then-guts-luke-928-45/). In a time of deep distress, Jennifer recalls the depth of her pain. This is how she describes her experience:

I folded into myself: my arms wrapped tightly around my knees and found their rest on my heaving chest . . . As I opened my mouth to cry out to God, as I often do in moments of hopelessness, no sound emerged…Rocking back and forth on the cool linoleum floor, I finally uttered the only words that I could find, “I don’t feel safe. I don’t feel safe.”

Like a gust of wind, I could suddenly feel the soulful presence of my ancestors surround me, holding me and bearing witness to my pain. Then I heard my mama’s spirit whisper gently, gently in my ear, “Baby, we ain’t never been safe”.

Jesus proclaimed the hard truth that there is no safety for those who follow him. Yet we live on, knowing that sometimes seasons of pain will engulf us. But also knowing that we are safe in God’s care, that God is faithful and present with us always.

Yes, sometimes I need to draw close to God and stay there. I hope I’ll have the wisdom and the will to stay there long enough.

Family, God's presence, healing, Light

My Healing Days

Rev Kathy

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If I say, “Surely the darkness will hide me
and the light become night around me,”
even the darkness will not be dark to you;
the night will shine like the day,
for darkness is as light to you.

– Psalm 139:11-12 NIV

I am drawn to light, to brightness and color. Dark shadows and muted hues can cause melancholy in me. And in those times, I try everything I can do to fill my day with brightness. It is a healing balm in troubling times.

In 2014, I spent most of the year very ill and in the hospital. As I recuperated at home, I found that I had no energy to surround myself with brightness and color. I did not notice it really, until my sister-in-law came to Little Rock for a visit. A seasoned decorator, she began to transform my surroundings in little ways. She and my brother also insisted that we relocate to Macon, Georgia so that we could be near enough for them to help Fred with my care.

They prevailed. We moved. Our belongings arrived at our new place (a place we had never laid eyes on) before we arrived. My family unpacked all our things, set up the house, and my sister-in-law filled the place with flowers, candles, and all kinds of beautiful things. We arrived late at night. When we walked into the house, it was filled with good smells, brightness and color. It looked like a Southern Living decorator house.

In that brightness and color, lovingly created by my family, I began to heal and get stronger. My days became day’s of calm. I was able to take my intense focus off of my illness and instead aim my gaze toward God. There was healing power in that, a transformative power that strengthened my spirit. The words of John Muir provide a lovely description of my healing days.

Oh, these vast, calm, measureless . . . days, days in whose light everything seems equally divine, opening a thousand windows to show us God.

– John Muir

How grateful I am for the thousand windows open to God. How grateful I am for the love and care of my family, for the light, color and brightness that fills my life. How grateful I am for these healing days.

healing, peace

Our Reply to Violence

Rev Kathy

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We have experienced some difficult days following election 2016. Violence was a part of the process, at least a violence of words. And violence takes its toll on the human spirit. The Southern Poverty Law Center has tracked 892 hate groups operating in the United States. The civil rights organization has also cited over 300 cases of hateful harassment or intimidation in the United States since Election Day.

For me, few things have helped ease the struggle of my spirit. The one thing that has helped the most is music. I have found myself singing hymns to myself several times a day and have been comforted by the familiar melodies and sacred texts.

Music has that kind of healing power for so many people during times of trial. Protestant Theologian Dietrich Bonhoeffer stands out among the Christian leaders during the Nazi era, for he was one of the few to actively resist the racist actions of the Nazi regime. He said this about music.

Music… will help dissolve your perplexities and purify your character and sensibilities, and in time of care and sorrow, will keep a fountain of joy alive in you.

In the days that followed the assassination of President Kennedy, there were many heart-wrenching musical moments, like the New York Philharmonic’s performance of Mahler’s “Resurrection” Symphony. During that dark time, music director Leonard Bernstein gave an unforgettable speech at Madison Square Garden. His remarks include these words:

This sorrow and rage will not inflame us to seek retribution; rather it will inflame our art … This will be our reply to violence: to make music more intensely, more beautifully, more devotedly, than ever before.

May it be so … that music is our reply to violence.

healing

Walking Lake

Rev Kathy
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“Walking Lake” in North Little Rock, Arkansas. Photo by J.V. McKinney

I love today’s photo, entitled “walking lake.” It reminds me of the comfort of walking beside still waters. It reminds me that restoring my soul is the most important part of life. It reminds me that, when times are tough and all comforts fail, we sometimes just have to walk it off. Sometimes we have to literally will our bodies to get moving and will our spirits to be comforted.

After this presidential election I found myself paralyzed with grief. I didn’t want to leave my house. I didn’t want to move. I felt as if I had been punched in the stomach. All I could do was keep myself still and quiet until the hurt began to lift.

I knew that I could not stay in my immovable state. I knew I had to lift myself up and walk on. I knew that God had provided a “walking lake” for my healing. And then I happened upon this photo — serene and comforting beauty. I looked at it for several minutes, transporting myself to that place of healing. In the end, I moved. I stood up and got my bearings. I walked on with hope in my heart.

I pray that every person who has been disappointed will find his or her personal walking lake.

grief, healing, sadness

To Sing Again

Rev Kathy

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60,072,551 Americans are celebrating, singing songs of victory. At the same time, 60,467,601 of us cannot sing at all. We are silenced by grief after a divisive and troubling presidential election. Many of us are afraid, some are angry, others are despondent. And all around us, people celebrate.

How will we get through this time? How will we ever again feel that America is our home? When will we again lift our eyes after being bowed down in mourning? I have no easy answers. I only know that these words of the Psalmist describe my deepest feeling.

By the waters of Babylon,
there we sat down and wept,
when we remembered Zion.
On the willows there
we hung up our lyres.
For there our captors
required of us songs,
and our tormentors, mirth, saying,
“Sing us one of the songs of Zion!”
How shall we sing the Lord’s song
in a foreign land?

Psalm 137:1-4

It is my sincere prayer that on some day in the future we will pick up our lyres, lift our eyes to the heavens, stand tall, and sing again.

Grace, grief, healing, Politics

Grace

Rev Kathy

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Day two of grief and confusion. Day two of desperately seeking grace in the midst of grief. Day two of mourning a deeply personal loss.

It was a stunning upset, leaving us with President-elect Donald J. Trump. Despondency barely describes what I’m feeling. Fear may be even more descriptive. I do not feel despondent over being on the losing side of the election. For me, it is not about winning or losing. I do not feel anger or resentment against my brothers and sisters who voted for Trump.

But I do feel disenfranchised in my own country. I feel like I’m a part of a country I don’t understand. I feel like my hopes and dreams are no longer important. I feel like there is a powerful leader over me who will crush my dreams without a thought. I feel like the ground beneath me is shaking. Yesterday I read these words written by my friend, Julie Pennington-Russell.

In 1952, at the threshold of the Cold War, Harry Emerson Fosdick spoke to students and faculty at the Pacific School of Religion. After acknowledging the uncertainty and chaos in the world at that time, he spoke these now-famous words: “The highest use of a shaken time is to discover the unshakable.”

So this, for me, is a shaken time. I feel a cloud of uncertainty and chaos. I fear the days ahead. I am grieving, yet looking for a smidgen of grace in it all. That’s all I can do. And I lean into the encouraging words of Bishop Steven Charleston.

Now comes the hard part. As this new day dawns, joyful for some, sad for others, we face a single question: how will we walk together when our paths seem so different? There is a word for it. Grace. May we have the grace to be humble in victory and hopeful in defeat. May we have the grace to overcome our fears. This is the hard part, the time of seeking the common good, not for ourselves alone, but for those younger lives watching us. May our first step be made in prayer, spoken in different ways but with a shared appeal: give us your grace, dear God, to care more for one another than for winning.

– Bishop Steven Charleston

healing

Heal the World

Rev Kathy

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In times like these — the divisive days of a presidential election — we would do well to remember all that brought us together after the tragedy of 9/11. We were devastated, but not destroyed. We pulled together as a nation, along with the prayers of allies all over the world, to heal from our horrific national wounds. In our time of greatest loss, we healed.

Yet, today we still face the demons of terror and violence. We still feel fear. We are still in need of healing.

One calling that we all share is our work as healers. Each one of us, in our own way, in our own circle of life, is given moments when we can heal what is before us. It is not hard for us to recognize these moments. We see them clearly. The hurt between human hearts, the pain of past memories, the conflict between friends, the need of our Earth to be respected: there are a steady stream of chances for you and I to be active in mending what is broken around us. From the greatest need to the smallest, we are the work crew of the holy. We repair the world, one blessing at a time. – Bishop Steven Charleston

In memory of 9/11 and in honor of those who lost their lives, let us join hands and heal the world.

Courage, Faith, healing, Hope, Inspiration

An Unconquerable Soul

Rev Kathy

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We face dark obstacles at times. We are as assailed on every hand, tried by difficult life circumstances. We sometimes find that our very soul is heavy with grief and loss. Yet our soul is unconquerable. We face life unafraid because of our faith in a protective and faithful God. When tribulation covers us, we know that we are also covered by God’s grace.

“Be gracious to me, O God, be gracious to me, For my soul takes refuge in You; And in the shadow of Your wings I will take refuge until destruction passes by.” – Psalm 57:1

And there we abide, under God’s wings. We strengthen one another with our stories, taking solace as we hear that others have survived their storms. We share both our joys and our sorrows, our hope and our descent into hopelessness. The stories give us courage and raise in us the will to move past whatever pain we suffer. One such story is that of William Ernest Henley.

At age twelve, Henley was diagnosed with tubercular arthritis that necessitated the amputation of one of his legs just below the knee. His other foot was saved only through a radical surgery. As he healed in the infirmary, Henley began to write poems, including “Invictus,” which concludes with the oft-referenced lines “I am the master of my fate; I am the captain of my soul.”

Invictus

William Ernest Henley
1849-1903

Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds and shall find me unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate,
I am the captain of my soul.

I have been brought low in this life, too many times to count. I have fallen into the dust, barely able to pick myself up off the ground. But on this day as I stand tall, safe from the throes of pain and loss, I give thanks to God for my unconquerable soul. There may yet come a day of darkness for me. But what remains is a soul unconquerable.

Fear, God's Faithfulness, healing, Miracles

Small Miracles

Rev Kathy

 

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Two years. Every day on dialysis. Confined to one room for over seven hours every night, tubes holding me hostage. Tubing and tape under my clothing twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. Don’t get me wrong. I am deeply grateful for the lifesaving treatments. I am grateful for the medical team that cares for me and examines me carefully twice a month. I am grateful for my husband, the greatest caregiver, who hooks me up every night, keeps our equipment sterile, orders dialysis supplies and medication, and does so much more.

But I still get tired of the confinement of dialysis. I often wonder how long I will be on dialysis and if I’ll ever have a kidney transplant. I wonder how long the dialysis will be effective for me. I wonder about how to stay as healthy as possible. I think about the burden I am on my husband and try to find ways to pull my own weight.

I have many questions and few answers. Sometimes that reality brings me down. It is a constant effort to stay emotionally healthy.

Yet through it all, I trust the protection of God who brought me this far after a year of serious illness. Through a lot of prayer and a series of small miracles, I found my life again. It is true that I experience fear, especially when I wonder what my future holds. But God has been present for me, making sure that my fear does not consume me. I rest often on this scripture passage:

“Fear not, for I am with you; be not dismayed, for I am your God; I will strengthen you, I will help you, I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.” – Isaiah 41:10

Courage, healing, Hope

Strong at the Broken Places

Rev Kathy

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The world breaks everyone, and afterward, some are strong at the broken places.
– Ernest Hemingway

It’s true. I’m told by a medical expert that when a broken limb fully heals, it is stronger than the original bone. In like manner, when someone is broken emotionally, they emerge stronger and more resilient. I have a dear friend who was broken by military sexual assault. The perpetrator was not held accountable for his actions. My friend also had multiple physical injuries that required several surgeries. She went through a time of night terrors and fought post traumatic stress for years.

But that is not the end of her story. With great tenacity and courage, she pulled herself up and out of despondency. She organized a public filming of the documentary film, “The Invisible War.” She told her story. She reached out to other sexual assault victims. She wrote letters to political leaders until her voice was finally heard when she testified before a Congressional committee in Washington.

She was strong at the broken places, and today she continues her advocacy with grace and grit. I salute you, Ginny.

Courage, healing, Life storms, Spiritual growth

Scars of the Spirit

Rev Kathy

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I have my fair share of what I call scars of the spirit. They remain with me, reminding me that I survived my deepest wounds. They also remind me that the damage life has inflicted on me has left me stronger and more resilient.

No one escapes the woundedness of a life well lived. No one can claim to be free of scars. But every person — flawed, scarred and wounded — can use the hurt of the past to be stronger in the present and more resilient for the future.

It seems that I have two choices. Either I can look at my past and hold on to the kind of bitterness that destroys a contented life. Or I can own my past, with all of its wounds, and become stronger because of it. In The Fires of Heaven, Robert Jordan writes, “The oak fought the wind and was broken, the willow bent when it must and survived.”

I am grateful to know that when strong winds blew through my life, I bent with the wind. I moved forward stronger than I was before. With me, I brought wounds and scars. But they remind me that I survived.

Faith, healing, Hope, Light

Life Goes On

Rev Kathy

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Life goes on. It is a common saying that holds so much truth. When circumstances tempt us to give up, we are always reminded that life goes on. I have learned so many times through disappointment, grief and fear, that life does go on. We live another day. We have another chance. We rest on the reality that dawn comes after every long night . . . every night, without fail.

How comforting it is for us to believe in another day and another chance! At the end of any grueling day, the night descends upon us with its healing. And then the brightness of a new dawn fills us with fresh hope and the will to greet another day. It is all a blessing from a faithful God who walks beside us through life, whatever comes, whatever hardship we face.

I love the words of Rachel Carson.

Those who contemplate the beauty of the earth find reserves of strength that will endure as long as life lasts. There is something infinitely healing in the repeated refrains of nature — the assurance that dawn comes after night, and spring after winter.

― Rachel Carson, “Silent Spring”

And so my friends, do not lose heart. Yes, life can be difficult. The world can seem to be a bitter place. But we were made for these times. There are many people these days who are deeply and properly bewildered. They are concerned about the state of affairs in our world. Ours is a time of almost daily righteous rage over the latest degradations of what matters most to civilized, visionary people. Yet, we move forward without giving up. We do not lose heart.

Therefore we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day. For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all. So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen, since what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal.  (2 Corinthians 4:16-18 New International Version)

Life goes on!

Bitterness, healing, Joy, sadness

I decided to be happy!

Rev Kathy

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I simply decided to be happy again. It was my choice, after all. I had been through a grueling coup in my nonprofit organization. Friends and colleagues of many years betrayed me in very hurtful ways. I lost all that I had worked for in the previous ten years. The community lost a significant resource. I lost long time friends.

But that was several yesterday’s ago. I suffered a great loss, and grieved that loss for at least a year. I learned that the decision to be happy again is my own decision. The choice to hope again is my choice.

It was a good day when I made that choice. It was a good day when I made peace with the past, when I thanked God for the positive things I accomplished. It was a good day when I decided to be happy again!

The real things haven’t changed. It is still best to be honest and truthful; to make the most of what we have; to be happy with simple pleasures; and to have courage when things go wrong.
― Laura Ingalls Wilder

Thankfully, that’s where I am today. The painful yesterdays are but a slight mist. The tomorrows are bright with hope.

Adventures, Africa, Faith, Freedom, God's Faithfulness, grief, healing

Remembering Uganda

Rev Kathy

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It was so many years ago, but I remember it as if it happened yesterday. The two of us, my husband Fred and I, stepped off of a plane in the Nairobi airport to begin a new life. As very young missionaries headed to Uganda, we had no idea what we would face in the days to come.

Getting to Uganda from Kenya was a long, dusty ride through the most beautiful places we had ever seen. Through bush country and savannah, through banana groves and rain forests, through tea plantations on mountainsides and the rushing waters of Bujigali Falls, we were getting acquainted with this continent. The terrain was ever-changing, and the way was marked by the majestic beauty of elephants, giraffe, cape buffalo, gazelles, flamingos and Ugandan crested cranes.

We were filled with awe and excitement. But the most moving sight of all was the people, barefoot and downtrodden, wearing rags and carrying heavy water containers. Their country had all but been destroyed by the evil dictator Idi Amin, who orchestrated the genocide of 100,000 to 500,00 Ugandans.

Churches were burned to the ground, schools pillaged and all but destroyed, roads were in shambles. Children were left orphaned in a country of widows. Their faces showed the wear of grief, their bodies the mask of mourning.

They are why we have come, sent by God to comfort a grieving people in small ways. The days ahead would find us digging water wells, distributing agricultural tools and vegetable seeds, giving out books, bibles and sewing supplies, bringing in simple medicines and vaccines.

I can never think of the Ugandan people without recalling Lamentations 5, a scripture passage that was read in a church service to describe the plight of the Ugandan people. As the reader read through her tears, the entire congregation wept, mourning so many losses. I offer the text here in its entirety:

Lamentations 5 New International Version (NIV)

Remember, Lord, what has happened to us;
look, and see our disgrace.
Our inheritance has been turned over to strangers,
our homes to foreigners.
We have become fatherless,
our mothers are widows.
We must buy the water we drink;
our wood can be had only at a price.
Those who pursue us are at our heels;
we are weary and find no rest.
We submitted to Egypt and Assyria
to get enough bread.
Our ancestors sinned and are no more,
and we bear their punishment.
Slaves rule over us,
and there is no one to free us from their hands.
We get our bread at the risk of our lives
because of the sword in the desert.
Our skin is hot as an oven,
feverish from hunger.
Women have been violated in Zion,
and virgins in the towns of Judah.
Princes have been hung up by their hands;
elders are shown no respect.
Young men toil at the millstones;
boys stagger under loads of wood.
The elders are gone from the city gate;
the young men have stopped their music.
Joy is gone from our hearts;
our dancing has turned to mourning.
The crown has fallen from our head.
Woe to us, for we have sinned!
Because of this our hearts are faint,
because of these things our eyes grow dim
for Mount Zion, which lies desolate,
with jackals prowling over it.
You, Lord, reign forever;
your throne endures from generation to generation.
Why do you always forget us?
Why do you forsake us so long?
Restore us to yourself, Lord, that we may return;
renew our days as of old
unless you have utterly rejected us
and are angry with us beyond measure.

Idi Amin was deposed. God did restore Uganda , and those who had lost so much found life again. Their mourning turned to dancing, dancing filled with joyful gratitude to a compassionate and faithful God. Amen.

Faith, God's Faithfulness, healing, Life storms, Prayer

Glory

Rev Kathy

 

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The year was 2014, the year I survived, the year so full of hard times. It all began in February with a diagnosis of end stage kidney disease. Then I was in and out of the hospital all year with complications and deadly infections. When the occupational therapist came to my room, I could not name colored blocks. At times, I did not know my own husband. I was very weak and could not walk for a time. Fortunately, much of the time I slept, not knowing how dangerously ill I really was.

I prayed a lot that year. Vulnerability brought me closer to God, the best source of help and life I knew. My church family brought food for us. My friends literally fed me and rubbed lotion on my feet. I had the invaluable help of a home health nurse, a physical therapist, and a doctor that came to my home each month. I graduated quickly from a wheel chair to a walker, and then was able to walk unassisted. Friends and family all over the world prayed for me. I am fully confident that their prayers brought me through.

Today is a new day for me. I can barely remember the hardest days of 2014. Though I still have end stage kidney disease and am on a dialysis machine eight hours everyday, I feel healthy on most days. I can eat and sleep. I can walk, cook and bathe myself. I can enjoy visiting with people without tiring out. I can go on shopping trips and buy my own groceries. I can care for my flowers and plants.

I am grateful to be alive, in awe of the way God intervened in my life and brought me back to the world I so enjoy. That’s my story. God played the major role. My husband was a close second by doing all the cooking, cleaning, washing, and especially, all the nursing care for me. I was blessed with the kind of help and support that helped me turn the corner.

William Barclay penned these words:

“Endurance is not just the ability to bear a hard thing, but to turn it into glory.”

I did endure. I did see my difficult year turn into glory, the glory of friendships, the glory of family, the glory of love, hope and health.

So thank you, God. Thank you, Fred. Thank you, dear friends, family, and church family for keeping vigil with Fred and me during hard times. Thank you!

Courage, Faith, healing, Spiritual growth

Wounds of the Soul

Rev Kathy

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The past and its memories can be harsh. Especially for those who have experienced great hurt. I call such hurts wounds of the soul.

After the injury ceases its pain, after the scars heal, the wounds of the soul remain. They remain forever as a reminder, not only that I was hurt, but also that I survived. I have learned not to be enslaved by my wounds. They remind me that I was stronger than the thing or the person that tried to hurt me.

How does one heal the wounds of the soul? You don’t heal them. They never go away. They remain on the soul as badges of courage and reminders of strength and perseverance. They happened in the past, of course, but they make me more mindful of the glories of the present moment.

“When we are mindful, deeply in touch with the present moment, our understanding of what is going on deepens, and we begin to be filled with acceptance, joy, peace and love.”

– Thich Nhat Hanh
In spite of the soul’s wounds, I am filled with acceptance, joy, peace and love. There is a part of me that is grateful for the wounds that stay with me. They make me stronger. They make me resilient. They make me wise enough to not be hurt again. I want to always remember that the soul is able to endure the wounds. The soul’s memories will always mark the time of the hurt and hold it for safekeeping. The soul will bear its wounds with grace, thankful that they make us the person we are meant to be.

I often ask myself the question “Who would you be without the wounds?”

Friendship, healing, Life storms, Memories

Ethel

Rev Kathy

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I’ve been thinking about Ethel, one of the most loyal and dearest friends I have ever had. At times, I am quite sure she watches over me from her very special place in heaven. That comforts me, but makes me miss her all the more. Ethel came into my life when I was going through a dark time. She stuck close, in fact, through many difficult days, making all the difference in the world for me.

Ethel was like a best friend and a mother all rolled into one incredible package. I was her pastor for nine years. She offered me love and care through thick and thin. During the early days of our friendship, my light went out. Life was dark and dreary, and I was facing evil days. At least that’s how it felt for me. Ethel was a spark that rekindled my spent light. She helped change my life.

A friend posted this quote on Facebook yesterday. It so closely describes what Ethel meant to me.

“At times, our own light goes out and is rekindled by a spark from another person. Each of us has cause to think with deep gratitude of those who have lighted the flame within us.”  – Albert Schweitzer

Ethel lighted the flame within me. And what’s more, she taught me how to keep it lighted and how to make it through the dark times. Rest in peace, my dear friend. You meant so much to me.

Africa, Faith, healing, Hope

Dance Then, Wherever You May Be

Rev Kathy

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Some people just know how to endure grief and difficulty. While many of us cave in the midst of grief, others thrive, meeting their dark moment with unconquerable inner joy. Such were the people of Uganda in the terrible years of Idi Amin’s reign of terror. He was a monster bent on genocide and on destroying the country that was called “The Pearl of Africa.”

For eight years, Amin carried out mass killings within the country to maintain his rule. An estimated 300,000 Ugandans lost their lives during his regime. Aside from his brutalities, he forcibly removed the entrepreneurial Indian minority from Uganda, which left the country’s economy in ruins. Schools were gutted. Churches were banned. Wildlife was destroyed by poaching. Amin’s atrocities were graphically accounted in the 1977 book, A State of Blood, written by one of his former ministers after he fled the country. Now a country of widows and orphans, Uganda suffered greatly.

At the end of Amin’s reign, my husband and I moved to Uganda to help with the country’s long recovery. We worked with villages digging water wells, distributing seeds, fertilizer and gardening tools, bringing in medicines, vaccines and protein supplement, and offering books, bibles and sewing supplies.

During that time when grief was still very acute, we worshipped at St. Andrews Anglican Church in Jinja, Uganda. Expressing their faith, the congregants also expressed their intense emotions of grief and loss with tears, prayers, and testimonies. One congregant read the following prayer from Lamentations 5:

A Prayer for Mercy

Remember, O Lord, what has happened to us.
Look at us, and see our disgrace.
Our property is in the hands of strangers;
foreigners are living in our homes.
Our fathers have been killed by the enemy,
and now our mothers are widows.
We must pay for the water we drink;
we must buy the wood we need for fuel.
Driven hard like donkeys or camels,
we are tired, but are allowed no rest. . .

Murderers roam through the countryside;
we risk our lives when we look for food.
Hunger has made us burn with fever
until our skin is as hot as an oven.
Our wives have been raped on Mount Zion itself;
in every Judean village our daughters have been forced to submit.
Our leaders have been taken and hanged;
our elders are shown no respect.
Our young men are forced to grind grain like slaves;
boys go staggering under heavy loads of wood.
The old people no longer sit at the city gate,
and the young people no longer make music.
Happiness has gone out of our lives;
grief has taken the place of our dances.
Nothing is left of all we were proud of.
We sinned, and now we are doomed.
We are sick at our very hearts
and can hardly see through our tears. . .

But you, O Lord, are king forever
and will rule to the end of time.
Why have you abandoned us so long?
Will you ever remember us again?
Bring us back to you, Lord! Bring us back!
Restore our ancient glory.

Good News Translation

The people were on their knees in prayer, some crying silent tears, others wailing out their grief. One woman began to sing and quickly was joined by the whole congregation.

Dance, then, wherever you may be
I am the lord of the dance, said he
And I lead you all, wherever you may be
And I lead you all in the dance, said he.

In the midst of their tears, they sang this joyous tune, and then, all over the building, they began to dance. That is the way they endured their unspeakable grief and loss. That is how they embraced life after a time if deathly evil . . . with singing and dancing.

“You have turned my mourning into dancing; you took off my sackcloth and clothed me with a garment of joy.” – Psalm 30:11