En-hakkore, and 999 more

most of the (tiny) readership and many beyond have been informed and updated regarding my most recent medical scare.

the one person in our church who hadn't been just bumped into me at Panera, so now he's all caught up as well. the one time i needed my main communicator to communicate, he decided not to. (you had one job, Mr James- one job!). HIPPA is so proud.

despite everyone else's better judgement, i felt an intense desire to go to church this sunday.  i knew for my emotional health that i desperately needed fellowship. so 36 hours after discharge from the hospital i returned to my normal pew and just listened to the choir for a final rehearsal and sound check.  i love being able to sing the songs twice; once just isn't enough for some of the classics.

and that's when the biggest wave of guilt rushed up and soaked me, head to toe.  i knew it was coming.  i knew it was deserved.  and i think i know at least some of what i need to do about it now.  open my big ole' mouth.

my devotions have picked up pace a tad, and after dragging through hundreds of Old Covenant laws and the establishment of Israel's theocracy, i am now into the period of the judges.  this is the point where every "good" Christians does the "facepalm" and eye roll at every page.  several times, you can't even read a single page without seeing YET AGAIN the Israelites forget the God who saved them and turn to poles and statues and animals- before falling again into war and disease and fear. then a judge would arise, deliver God's people through his faith in God and God's instruction and grace… and then the judge would die.  it's the "lather, rise, repeat" cycle on every bottle of shampoo. over and over again. 

and then you realize you're no better, and quite possibly worse.

i've had all manner of drama in my past. a lot of it i've been able to block from memory. a lot of it i have not.

but the fact remains that i am still here.  none of the past hundred attempts to take me out has succeeded.  damaged me, yes.  hurt, heck yes. confused, angered, exhausted me- oh, definitely.  but didn't kill me.

tuesday morning at 0800, all i knew was that something was wrong and i didn't feel so hot. 

and hour after that, and for a day following, all i knew was that i had "a mass."  there was "a mass" of unknown etiology in my pelvis. 

it could be "only" a crazy-huge infection.  but it could be a tumor.  there could be meds, therapies, surgeries, medical equipment i've never seen before and life-threatening procedures in my immediate future.  i walked into a doctor's office with a stone entryway, each rock engraved with a doctor's name- every one of them said "oncologist."

my prayer life did a 180-degree turn.  that's when the fear set in. in just a few hours, i went from being a confident NeoICU nurse to a nervous,  shift-change admit patient that every nurse complains about.

i think i did a pretty good job of keeping my mentors and closest friends and family updated.  one of them emailed the sunday school group, someone said something wednesday night at Bible study, and i had a half-decent internet signal to keep facebook peeps informed.

i am ashamed to say what happened inside me, though.  outwardly, i kept up appearances.  i smiled and joked as much as i could.  i helped with the admission form and IV when it beeped.  i took showers and wore my comfortable street clothes as much as i could, staying out of the bed during the day and eating what, and when, i was able.  i never shed a single tear.

i kept up as much as possible with my devotionals, but my enthusiasm for the cities and landmarks of the 12 tribes' boundaries waned to near zero.  i didn't care.  part of me was tired.  all of me was angry and confused and freaked out so badly my hair was about to frizz. i didn't know what to pray.

so i didn't.

i knew other people were praying, and i have seen their prayers answered. i know my prayers are so weak they seem pitiful to me.  i am not good at seeing the answers to my prayers, though i see others'.  i so often want to give up, or rush through prayer the same way i choked down Leviticus.  i hoped like fury that was "good enough."

it's not.  it's just not.

even after the crisis was over, and the pain turned out to be from an abscess and not a tumor, the relief was as crippling as the previous fear.  and i still didn't know what to say or pray.

"En-hakkore" means "The Spring of the One Who Cried Out."  good ole' Samson named that one.  he had just whipped the tails (literally) of a thousand Philistine pagans with a donkey mandible and a mean backhand serve.  after his workout he was thirsty and cranky and told God just what he thought about the situation, demanding water like he deserved it.  God answered, and water appeared out of a hole in the ground.  and Samson's tortured cry of agony turned to one of (moderately) grateful praise.  i came scary-close to a major faith crisis.  i was dry and at the end of my rope.  i cried out for an answer, any answer, but especially the better, safer, easier-to-fix answer.  and after a faithful chastisement i was met with a merciful answer of the best possible diagnosis i could hope for.  my agony and fear melted away and only an awed thankfulness was left in its place.

i sat in the pew yesterday morning and heard, twice, the words to a classic that should never, ever go out of style.

and i felt, twice, the wave of guilt wash over me.  it was followed by an even bigger wave of grace.  i left, thoroughly drenched and thoroughly determined. 

O For a thousand tongues to sing

My great Redeemer's praise!

The glories of my God and King,

The triumphs of His grace!

My gracious Master and my God,

Assist me to proclaim,

To spread through all the earth abroad

The honors of Thy name.

 Jesus! the Name that charms our fears,

That bids our sorrows cease;

'Tis music in the sinner's ears,

'Tis life, and health, and peace.

He breaks the power of cancelled sin,

He sets the prisoner free;

His blood can make the foulest clean,

His blood availed for me.

He speaks, - and, listening to his voice,

New life the dead receive;

The mournful, broken hearts rejoice;

The humble poor believe.

Hear him, ye deaf; his praise, ye dumb,

Your loosened tongues employ;

Ye blind, behold your Savior come,

And leap, ye lame, for joy.

Look unto him, ye nations; own

Your God, ye fallen race;

Look, and be saved through faith alone,

Be justified by grace.

i do not have a thousand tongues. i have but one.  and it has been silent too long. well, not silent, but not singing like it should be.  i want my "loosened tongue employed." i had old classmates and coworkers visit.  i had daily texts and messages and phone calls from friends and church members who sit waaaaaay across the sanctuary, from those i haven't heard from in months or years, parents of Cubbies.  i got pretty flowers, snack foods to appease my stupid cravings, a soft blanket that finally allowed me to rest well.  daily prayers and posts let me know i wasn't as alone as i felt. i had good nurses.  i had understanding doctors who admitted how strange the situation was, which alone indicates that God had some purpose in me being there. all this from Jesus, who put every one of those people in my life.  the same Jesus who saved Samson and those silly, rebellious Israelites remained ever faithful.

if there is a single person who read my facebook posts or texts and attributed any, ANY, of the pain relief, comfort, love, grace, retreat of the disgusting abscess of monstrous proportions,  increased tolerance of these horribly potent antibiotics--

if for one moment someone thanks the Fates, luck, some unknown Force- for ANY of that, then my tongue has failed.  my single hope is that your tongue will join mine, and that many more will join in.  if there are a thousand people, then there are hundreds of thousands of reasons to sing.  we may be out of tune.  we may not have the gusto that our choir did. we may not even know most of the reasons to sing, but we know enough of them.

Jesus told the religious elite that if His people didn't shout and sing His praise then the rocks themselves would rise up and proclaim His worth.

o, for 999 to join me in song, to silence the rocks and drink deeply from the Spring that appeases all who call upon Him, no matter how thirsty or desperate!