I’ve been thinking about this post for weeks. I had half of it written in my head, and lacked the time and space to sit down and hash it out with real words. I wanted to tell you about the word that God has given me for 2017, and I had all kinds of illustrations and lists of ways that I could prove how He has already worked in that word throughout my life.
Then Tuesday morning happened.
Tuesday morning, I took my son to the doctor to get a strep test. He had all of the symptoms, and we usually get strep a couple times a year, so I figured it was his turn. As we were waiting in the office though, I got a message through my author page on Facebook. The notification popped up on my phone from a name I didn’t recognize and all I saw was, “Unfortunately this is the only way I can reach you . . .”
At first I thought it was probably spam, but I opened it quickly because if I left it unread and unanswered, the rating on my author page would go down (too much to explain right now). I opened the message and read words I had honestly never expected to read.
“Your mom has had a stroke and is on her way to the hospital.”
Jesus.
It was all I could say as the tears poured down my face and my son wrapped his arm around me.
The rest of the day was painfully slow as we waited for news and for my 7pm boarding time to go back to Canada for the second time in two weeks.
Putting it frankly, this week has been hell for everyone. I left two sick kids (ended up being the flu) and a working husband behind to walk into a nightmare, practically blind. As I packed my suitcase I had all of these thoughts that, in hindsight, were completely ignorant. “Should I bring my curling iron and some nice clothes? I guess I should think about what to make her for dinner . . .”
We had no information about her condition until my friend went to see her and let us know that my mom was paralyzed on her right side and could not speak at all.
Oh, so . . . she won’t be leaving the hospital tomorrow . . . Even with that information, I still didn’t realize what it was going to be like. I will forever be haunted by the desperate look in her eyes as she tried to communicate things telepathically or with hand motions that always seemed to leave us asking more questions. I can not even begin to imagine her own agony, being trapped inside of herself and unable to relay her biggest concerns. We’ve both been frustrated to tears trying to understand each other.
It. Has. Been. Hell.
There are so many wonderful cliches that people could have spoken to my sister and I, truths that have become Christian rote over time, and I’m thankful that people have chosen their words carefully as we have navigated one of the worst times of our lives. I feel very permitted to feel and act exactly the way that I need to, and I feel that permission from the Father as well.
Romans 8:28 has always been an anchor verse for me, and I would love to tell you that during this time I have clung to it and many others for my hope and that I have been able to prophecy to my soul about the goodness and hope of Jesus. That’s what we should be doing, right? We should rejoice in our sufferings and know that God has a plan and blah, blah, blah, we all know the right way to respond, and it’s so very easy to encourage others to respond that way when it’s not ourselves in the situation.
What I have learned in the last four days about the goodness and hope of Jesus is that even if we aren’t necessarily feeling it, it doesn’t go away. I learned that there is permission to not actively rejoice in suffering, and to just be.
I’m beginning to wonder about the phrase, ‘when we are weak, He is strong.’
I had a moment in the bathroom the other day (one of many) where I locked the door and sank to the floor, sobbing. In my head I told the Lord, “You can be here, but please don’t speak.” I was afraid of what He would say. I felt His presence beside me on the floor, and that was enough. He began to go around my request though, and spoke through others in order to get to my heart.
I haven’t reached out to Him much this week. I haven’t had the time and the space to fall apart the way I need to, and to lay on the floor (because it’s a hospital, gross), and let Him sing over me. But that would be our normal progression through trials such as this. I don’t feel far from Him, but I feel unable to reach out to Him. My spirit lacks the strength to call for help in the way it usually does. So I’m wondering if all of the years spent reaching out, receiving, and pouring out, are what stand in the gap for me now. Are all of the hours spent worshiping and falling in love with Jesus the reason why I can stand and move and feel okay about not doing those things right now? Have I built up enough of a faith-resistance to the disease that is despair? I’m sure it’s all contributing to the fact that I am still standing.
Yesterday I was evaluating my response to Him during this time, and the phrase, “boots on the ground” kept running through my head. Very few times in my life have I needed the kind of intercession that we need now. Usually I envision myself as one of the people lifting the arms of my friends and family as they fight their battles (like Moses in Exodus 17). Rarely am I the one who is actually needing her arms lifted. But this is definitely a battle that I can not fight on my own, and the prayers of God’s people, and His mighty strength are carrying me through as my boots hit the ground every single day.
What I’m getting at, not so eloquently because my brain is fried and I can hardly remember what I’m trying to do from one second to the next, is that there is room in the midst of the battle to let your spirit be still. That there is a safe place of spiritual sustenance in the grey area of struggle when you can not open your mouth to speak out what you need from the Father. If I can not lift my voice to praise Him in my struggle, that’s okay. The perception that we need to be aggressive in our search after Him, night and day, no matter what is going on, is skewed, I believe. I think that sometimes seeking the Lord looks a lot different than what we’ve been taught. Sometimes we need to be sought after, and I have definitely felt the Father seeking me this week. I have felt His want of me, and I have felt His active love pouring over me, even though I haven’t been able to reciprocate. He has reminded me of so many times when I have told others to just be, and that it is okay for me be silent in my need and to let His presence do the work quietly.
Now back to the point I started with . . . this should probably be two blog posts, and if you made it this far, then you must really love me. I don’t know when I will have another quiet moment to get this all out though, and I really need to get it out.
The word God gave me for 2017 was: Possible.
Another abstract word, followed by the phrase, “Nothing is impossible.”
There is such a huge difference when you add those two letters, I-M, to the word ‘possible.’
This week has been impossible. Everything about it has felt impossible and the future definitely looked impossible. I’ll spare you the details for now, but suffice it to say that there are things about my mom’s potential future that are very scary for all of us. Impossible things.
But this morning, after being forced to rest and take a day off from the hospital, I got the impossible news that my mom had finally spoken real words, and was able to move her right leg. I sobbed, hearing her voice on the phone tell me excitedly, “I . . . like . . . football,” over and over again. It was better than a gift on Christmas morning.
I walked into the kitchen a while later and saw the word, “Impossible” on a magnet on the fridge. The quote around it had nothing to do with anything, but my memory jarred and the Lord reminded me of the word He had given me, and all of the silly things that I had listed on a note in my phone to tell you all about that He had made possible in my life.
It’s not about the impossible things He has already made possible though, it’s about the things He will make possible, and I do not know what all of those are yet. But this morning, something impossible was made possible, and honestly, if this one thing is all I get to attribute to that word this year, it’s more than enough.
Jules,
I love you more than you know and that’s crazy to me! Even crazier than that is how that came about, how God was the one that really made that all possible. ❤️ And I am glad He’s in the business of those kinds of things. Things I couldn’t even dream up on my best day.
I just wanted you to know that, after I pick myself up from the puddle I am In the Sonic parking lot, I am here and I’m praying and I’m holding your arms up. You have an army of us doing that for you, ya know? I know you feel like you have absolutely nothing left and that you are worn completely out in this moment. But you are literally quite the opposite. You’re one of the strongest people I know. And you know, like I do, a lot of that is your mom in you, too.
Get some rest. Breathe. Just be. I’m so glad you had the chance to do that today…..and that today was the day Jesus chose to shine through for you. Thank you for being an inspiration even in your storm and even when you feel at your weakest. Your words speak, sister.
I have no words except: I love you. I love your mom. I am praying.
Dearest Julie, this is Carol, your Moms friend who visited on Thurs. Recent surgery is preventing me from visiting but Ken was there yesterday holding her hand. I am so delighted to hear of the progress! Only God!
Remember Jesus is IN us. In our hearts. Our heads get messed up with sadness, grief, anger,daily life and worry. I used to feel at these times that He felt far away that I had to seek Him or call out to Him. He has never left my heart nor yours. Now, during those “messed up” moments, hours, or weeks I love to remember He is not around me, beside me or over me. He is inside my heart and will never leave. My friends uses the phrase “I have to get God’s Word from my brain to my heart”. I remind him it’s the other way around. He’s in our heart and is always helping us to renew our brains. So, rest sweet Woman of God. Don’t struggle. If quiet time doesn’t come then it’s just ok. I always had it the wrong way around. I am 67 years old and only a couple of years ago did I finally get it. His Presence cannot leave me. He promised.
Julie, thank you for your honest words that will speak to so many. Prayers for you and your family as you walk the journey of only seeing the moment you are in and trusting God for the moments to come.
Dear Julie
It is Sunday January 22nd evening.
My heart goes out to you and your beloved Momma and family. I am stunned to hear this. I am so very sorry. Your Mom and I are friends from way back. She married my husband and I. My name is Suzie Docherty; you may remember her speaking of Mike Docherty. I will immediately pray, and pray every day. Sending much love and prayers every day.
Possible
I was stunned when I heard this news and we have been in continual prayer for, not only my bff, Dottie, but for you and your family. Thank you for your beautiful blog. Your words, even at this very hard time are, as usual, inspiring. Rest and receive each blessing that our Father sends you. We know how faithful He is ——- now and forever! Love you very much and I am thankful for the friends who have so encouraged and have been faithfully praying for y’all and this attack from the enemy. Blessings continually coming to strengthen all of you and especially our precious Dottie!
Jules,
No cliche words. No impassioned speech about the valley and the shadow. Just love, grace, prayers and more of the three again.
Today is a pretty big day for me but I find myself thinking about you this morning, your precious mom, and what a big day really means in the grand scheme of things.
I am rambling because my heart hurts for you guys.
So I will pray for you, flight for you, mail the tissue, send the cards, and be present if ever you need someone to throw plates at the wall with, scream with, cry with or sit staring blankly at a wall saying nothing.
I am thankful you feel His presence. He is with you.
We love you.
Tamara
Tamara, not Tamar… that deserves a giggle if you know the scriptural reference to Tamar. We can laugh about that later, one day.
Julie,
Let Him carry you through this…I am so familiar with your words. I’ve walked with my son through two strokes…one at 13 and another just ten years later. He is now 31 and although living at home because of some disability,, he has overcome the impossible. He could do nothing after each stroke…he could not walk, talk, read, write, and so much more….he can do all of those things today, praise God. I lived in the hospital with him through both times and now know that when I was weak He was strong. He used the prayers of so many people worldwide to carry me through and be what I needed to be for my son and my family. God will do the same for you. You have an army of women praying for you!! Just keep remembering, when you are feeling deleted and desperate that what is impossible in your own strength is possible in Him.
Love you!