Let's see how this goes. I have a great idea--at least I think it is. Whether I can carry it through is another story. I started a Bible study at church yesterday. It is Beth Moore's "HERE and NOW---THERE and THEN," a DVD lecture series on Revelation.
As with all her studies, there is homework. Each week contains 5-6 questions to think about and answer. She asked us to also spend time each day discovering what Jesus has revealed or disclosed about himself, whether through the written Word, a sermon, a song, a conversation, a sight or sound, or... So, I thought I could write a little something each day about either new revelation or insights, or just thoughts that have come from the study.
Today's question was this, "Reread Revelation 1:1-8. Record one phrase of Scripture from this portion that you find most interesting or fascinating and explain why."
I don't like explaining why. I used to skip those parts in the studies I did. Going through therapy has helped me realize the importance of explaining the whys of my answers, but my preference is still fill-in-the-blanks or multiple choice.
While eating my poached egg and toast I reread the Revelation passage as requested. After eating, I read it again, only aloud this time. "Blessed is he who hears..." I finally settled in on the last half of verse 7. The first part tells of Jesus coming with the clouds. Then comes, "Every eye will see him, even those who pierced him; and all the peoples of the earth will mourn because of him."
ALL THE PEOPLE WILL MOURN? I could easily visualize those who pierced him physically. I could see the Roman soldiers around the cross taunting him, casting lots for his clothes, and finally piercing his side to hasten his death. I could completely understand their mourning when they see him return. They had been sooooo wrong.
But, all people will mourn because of him?
I then worked on visualizing the aroused mob shouting, "Crucify him! Crucify him!" I could see them mourning at the sight of Jesus returning with the clouds. They had been soooo wrong.
But, all people will mourn because of him? That means me doesn't it? That means you, too. We will mourn because of him. This is the portion that had caught my attention. Now came the hard part. explaining why?
I began thinking about being pierced, not physically, but emotionally. I thought about betrayal, heart break, cutting words, and disappointment, those situations where others had pierced me to my very core. The pain they caused, though not tangible, was real. My heart ached, and at times was broken.
Now the light bulb in my dark little mind turned on as I realized that over and over again I had pierced my Lord's heart.I did it when I ignored him as he sat huddled in a doorway trying to stay warm. I did it when I denied him by refusing to come to his defense while listening to a Christian-bashing conversation. I did it by disobeying him when I chose to keep an extra blanket stowed away, unused, in a box when someone else was in dire need.
I, one who pierced his side, will see him coming with the clouds. Hallelujah. I, along with all the people of the earth, will mourn because of him.
I will mourn because of the pain and heart break I caused him. I will mourn because I was soooo wrong.
BUT,
To him who loves us and has freed us from our sins by his blood, and has made us to be a kingdom and priests to serve his God and Father--to him be glory and power for ever and ever! Amen.
Rev. 1:5b-6
So begins eleven weeks of letting Jesus reveal himself to me. Please join me on this journey
Jan
Thursday, February 21, 2013
Tuesday, February 19, 2013
Remedial Forgiveness 70 X 7
Now I've done it! I guess I will have to go back and take a refresher course on forgiveness. My whole situation this morning was so crazy, and I let my emotions enter into the picture. What I thought would take a simple phone call became a complex and, in my opinion, unnecessary situation.
You see, because of my husband's age, it is necessary to take out the Required Minimum Deduction from his IRA. That should be simple enough since I have his Financial Power of Attorney. Wrong. As it turned out, since the power of attorney I have is more than 90 days old, I have to mail a new form into the prison for him to complete, sign, have notarized, and send back to me so I can sign it before a notary, then send it in with a letter of instruction to the institution holding the IRA.
That may even sound simple, but it isn't. For him to get anything notarized, he has to get on a waiting list to even make an appointment with a notary. The form itself made me laugh. It requires his phone number. That's impossible. Inmates don't have phones. Then it had a four inch line for his address which, in reality, is five lines long. By the time we've jumped through all the hoops, he will probably be another year older, and I'll be practiced enough to join the circus as a performing acrobat.
This whole rigamerole (however you spell it) made me angry at my husband--not the regulators who make the rules, not the financial institution that carries them out, but my husband who is sitting in prison. An hour or so after all the run-around, I was almost spitting nails. If he hadn't gotten us into this situation, the mandatory IRA withdrawal could have been completed with a simple phone call. Why? Why? Why did he cause all this mess. Why? Why? Why do I have to go through all this hassle?
I hate it. But we don't say hate in our family.
My jump into the blame game this morning surprised me. I thought I was through playing it. I now pray I don't continue in that behavior because every time I blame my husband and his felonious offenses for difficulties I encounter, I jump feet first into the un-forgiveness pit. So now I am enrolled once again in a class called Remedial Forgiveness 70 X 7.
"OK, Lord, here we go again."
You see, because of my husband's age, it is necessary to take out the Required Minimum Deduction from his IRA. That should be simple enough since I have his Financial Power of Attorney. Wrong. As it turned out, since the power of attorney I have is more than 90 days old, I have to mail a new form into the prison for him to complete, sign, have notarized, and send back to me so I can sign it before a notary, then send it in with a letter of instruction to the institution holding the IRA.
That may even sound simple, but it isn't. For him to get anything notarized, he has to get on a waiting list to even make an appointment with a notary. The form itself made me laugh. It requires his phone number. That's impossible. Inmates don't have phones. Then it had a four inch line for his address which, in reality, is five lines long. By the time we've jumped through all the hoops, he will probably be another year older, and I'll be practiced enough to join the circus as a performing acrobat.
This whole rigamerole (however you spell it) made me angry at my husband--not the regulators who make the rules, not the financial institution that carries them out, but my husband who is sitting in prison. An hour or so after all the run-around, I was almost spitting nails. If he hadn't gotten us into this situation, the mandatory IRA withdrawal could have been completed with a simple phone call. Why? Why? Why did he cause all this mess. Why? Why? Why do I have to go through all this hassle?
I hate it. But we don't say hate in our family.
My jump into the blame game this morning surprised me. I thought I was through playing it. I now pray I don't continue in that behavior because every time I blame my husband and his felonious offenses for difficulties I encounter, I jump feet first into the un-forgiveness pit. So now I am enrolled once again in a class called Remedial Forgiveness 70 X 7.
"OK, Lord, here we go again."
Thursday, February 14, 2013
Valentine Day Celebration
Chicken is marinading. Cream puffs are cooling. Table is set. Basket for corn bread muffins is ready. Baby red potatoes are scrubbed, and zucchini is washed. All I have to do now is wash some strawberries and blue berries, whip some cream, and cook. Since my son and daughter-in-law won't be here until 6:00 PM I can rest up awhile. That is good because for some unknown reason I am very tired today.
What is the grand occasion for the dinner, you ask? It is simple. Every year I give my son a gift certificate for dinner for two at my house. The last couple years it has been a Valentine Dinner. They get all dressed up, I put on a CD of mood music, light candles, pour sparkling cider, and serve a gourmet dinner. It is fun.
There is a slight change for this year's event. My eldest granddaughter and two of her friends are having a Valentine celebration at her house. They will be singing, dancing, talking, hot tubbing, and just being silly teenage girls. I invited them over for cream puffs after my dinner guests leave. They are hyped.
Here is the twist. After my son and his wife are finished with dinner, they are heading home to spend some time in their hot tub. Their three kids are coming over here for cream puffs, too. That means I will have 5 teenage girls, 1 teenage boy, and an 11 year old sitting around my dining room table eating dessert, drinking cider, laughing, talking, and probably playing with the candle. The nice part is, they all enjoy each other's company and have fun together. I love creating memories.
Well, it is almost noon. I have just about finished my cup of coffee. I hope it peps me up a little. I just want to take a nap. Now that I think about it, I did have to drive out of town to have a root canal done yesterday. Then drove back home. That is as good an excuse as any. It might not be the reason, but it does the trick for me.
Happy Valentine's Day everyone. May we all experience true love this day.
Jan
What is the grand occasion for the dinner, you ask? It is simple. Every year I give my son a gift certificate for dinner for two at my house. The last couple years it has been a Valentine Dinner. They get all dressed up, I put on a CD of mood music, light candles, pour sparkling cider, and serve a gourmet dinner. It is fun.
There is a slight change for this year's event. My eldest granddaughter and two of her friends are having a Valentine celebration at her house. They will be singing, dancing, talking, hot tubbing, and just being silly teenage girls. I invited them over for cream puffs after my dinner guests leave. They are hyped.
Here is the twist. After my son and his wife are finished with dinner, they are heading home to spend some time in their hot tub. Their three kids are coming over here for cream puffs, too. That means I will have 5 teenage girls, 1 teenage boy, and an 11 year old sitting around my dining room table eating dessert, drinking cider, laughing, talking, and probably playing with the candle. The nice part is, they all enjoy each other's company and have fun together. I love creating memories.
Well, it is almost noon. I have just about finished my cup of coffee. I hope it peps me up a little. I just want to take a nap. Now that I think about it, I did have to drive out of town to have a root canal done yesterday. Then drove back home. That is as good an excuse as any. It might not be the reason, but it does the trick for me.
Happy Valentine's Day everyone. May we all experience true love this day.
Jan
Tuesday, February 12, 2013
Sounds That Blessed
I love the sound of water. A babbling brook, roaring river, cascading waterfall, pounding surf, and splatting rain display the marvels of nature, each in its own distinct way. I love the sound of water. Except...except when it is the result of a dripping faucet, leaking roof, faulty toilet, or broken pipe.
I thought yesterday was going to be one of those "except" days. I had been to town and back. It was one of those drizzle-with-chance-of-rain days. After parking in the garage, I grabbed my bag of groceries from the car, scurried across the road to get the mail, and was scurrying back to the house, in the drizzle, when I heard an unusual sound---gushing water. It wasn't rain. It definitely wasn't drizzle. WHAT IN THE WORLD!
I quickly glanced at the pump house, but no water was coming from there. Deciding there must be a broken pipe in the garden area, I took my groceries into the kitchen and headed back outside to investigate. I hoped for the best but expected the worst. "Now, what was the name of the plumber I called a few years ago?" I heard the hum of the heat pump. That definitely wasn't the water I could hear in the distance. So I trudged on, listening, wondering, figuring out. The farther away from the house I got, the louder the sound became and the wetter my sandal clad feet got. Then an amazing thing happened. It got absolutely quiet. Not a sound could be heard, no gush, no splat, not even a drizzle. WHAT?
I looked around, saw nothing unusual, so slowly walked on. All of a sudden the air was once again filled with the sound of gushing water. Wait!. What sounded like water wasn't water at all. The trees around me were filled with hundreds of birds singing their hearts out. They weren't chirping, tweeting, screeching or hooting. They were each singing a chirring sound, but their combined voices sounded like bubbling, then gushing water.
I could never identify them. They were too hidden. I could only discern their movement in the tree tops. Whatever they were, they blessed me. I love the sound of water, especially when it is coming from the birds.
Be blessed,
Jan
I thought yesterday was going to be one of those "except" days. I had been to town and back. It was one of those drizzle-with-chance-of-rain days. After parking in the garage, I grabbed my bag of groceries from the car, scurried across the road to get the mail, and was scurrying back to the house, in the drizzle, when I heard an unusual sound---gushing water. It wasn't rain. It definitely wasn't drizzle. WHAT IN THE WORLD!
I quickly glanced at the pump house, but no water was coming from there. Deciding there must be a broken pipe in the garden area, I took my groceries into the kitchen and headed back outside to investigate. I hoped for the best but expected the worst. "Now, what was the name of the plumber I called a few years ago?" I heard the hum of the heat pump. That definitely wasn't the water I could hear in the distance. So I trudged on, listening, wondering, figuring out. The farther away from the house I got, the louder the sound became and the wetter my sandal clad feet got. Then an amazing thing happened. It got absolutely quiet. Not a sound could be heard, no gush, no splat, not even a drizzle. WHAT?
I looked around, saw nothing unusual, so slowly walked on. All of a sudden the air was once again filled with the sound of gushing water. Wait!. What sounded like water wasn't water at all. The trees around me were filled with hundreds of birds singing their hearts out. They weren't chirping, tweeting, screeching or hooting. They were each singing a chirring sound, but their combined voices sounded like bubbling, then gushing water.
I could never identify them. They were too hidden. I could only discern their movement in the tree tops. Whatever they were, they blessed me. I love the sound of water, especially when it is coming from the birds.
Be blessed,
Jan
Sunday, February 10, 2013
Life Lesson From My Yard
As I stood in my kitchen a few minutes ago waiting for my bagel to toast, I spent the time to truly gaze out my window, not glance, but gaze, and take it all in. While doing that, I was also wondering what I was going to put on the blog since I hadn't written for awhile. Thinking, for me, can be dangerous. It can be scary. It can be enlightening. It can be humorous. It can be all these things at one time.
So, first off, this is what I saw. I saw the beautiful, stately, deep green trees standing so tall and proud on the west side of my property--doing what firs and cedars do best, bring peace. Then, intermingled in the proud forest, were the droopy hemlocks doing what they do best, add some comic relief. I do love trees.
Then I noticed, to my amazement, that the lichen and moss covered branches of the birch tree were getting red. They were starting to bud. When did this happen? This is the first I had noticed it. The whole tree-filled picture was beautiful to my eyes with the dark greens, yellow greens, gray greens, grays, and reddish browns. While thanking God for his wonderful creation and the blessing it brings, I asked myself, "How does one capture these wonderful colors with what is available on an artist's palette?" I don't know.
Then I looked at what used to be a large garden area. It is now over run with different grasses and weeds. There is also a rather large pile of tree limbs that were removed from a couple trees that blew down a few years ago. The trees ultimately became firewood for people in need, but the limbs remain in a tall pile, waiting to be burned. I wondered what kind of critters might have made the future pyre their present sanctuary. That made me little sad.
I averted my eyes from the pile to the next nearest thing, the lawn (if you can call it that). Because the soil so so poor and hard out there, most of the lawn type grass has die off. What is left is quite thin and sickly. What really caught my attention didn't make me too happy. I had been invaded.
One, two, three...nine, ten. TEN!! Ten mole hills dotted my yard; and that was just the small area I could see. That means they will have to be raked down before I can mow later this spring. Even then, all that loose dirt dulls the mower blades, not to mention making the yard all bumpy. Dang moles. What good are they anyway? Now, came the irony and a laugh. Those mound-building moles eat the crane fly larva that destroy the roots of what grass I have left. The moles also aerate my lousy soil. This "can't win for losing" situation suddenly became the opposite. I seems I can't lose for winning.
The last thing I looked at was a small pile of old siding pieces and miscellaneous boards from a project awhile ago. Some is burnable, some is not. It is an eyesore, though small, but only if you look down where it is.
Now, here is where my thinking came in. When I looked close to my house I could see debris to be either dumped or put to use somehow. It needs to be done. I can either take care of it or ignore it by looking somewhere else.
When I looked further away, I saw the "problems": the moles, the lack of grass, the hard soil, the dull mower blades, the uneven ground. But I also realized that one of the problems could be part of the solution. Things might not be as bad as I thought they were.
The beautiful forest with all its color, a touch of heaven on earth, wouldn't even be noticed if I don't lift my eyes from the junk and the problems around me.
My plot of land slowly became a life lesson, a lesson on balance. It would be so easy to spend my days focused on only one thing, trees. I could spend my days watching the trees stand as still as royal guards or gyrate like whirling dervishes. I could watch the pale green of new growth darken with maturity. I could watch yellow pollen blow from reddish brown catkins. I could watch it all and never tire of it. They give me a sense of peace, but my house would collapse around me, and my yard would become either a jungle or a very wet desert.
I could also spend my days focused on one thing, work. I could drive myself crazy with what has to be done. I can become overwhelmed by looking at overgrown gardens and flower beds, weedy grass, mole hills, refuse piles, and dull mower blades. So what do I do?
I try to find balance in my life. I deal with the "up close and personal" stuff, but don't obsess over it. I look at the problems out there, but try to find the positives. Then I celebrate the peace, beauty, and tranquility of the forest.
But that is not enough. I must look beyond even the forest to the heavens, even beyond the heavens to the one who sits on the throne. It is there that the strength, desire, and joy to face the problems and do the work will be found. It is there that true peace, beauty, joy, and tranquility will be found. It is there and only there that perfect balance in one's life will be found.
"I lift up my eyes to the hills--where does my help come from?
My help comes from the Lord who made heaven and earth.
Psalm 121:1-2 NIV
Be blessed,
Jan
So, first off, this is what I saw. I saw the beautiful, stately, deep green trees standing so tall and proud on the west side of my property--doing what firs and cedars do best, bring peace. Then, intermingled in the proud forest, were the droopy hemlocks doing what they do best, add some comic relief. I do love trees.
Then I noticed, to my amazement, that the lichen and moss covered branches of the birch tree were getting red. They were starting to bud. When did this happen? This is the first I had noticed it. The whole tree-filled picture was beautiful to my eyes with the dark greens, yellow greens, gray greens, grays, and reddish browns. While thanking God for his wonderful creation and the blessing it brings, I asked myself, "How does one capture these wonderful colors with what is available on an artist's palette?" I don't know.
Then I looked at what used to be a large garden area. It is now over run with different grasses and weeds. There is also a rather large pile of tree limbs that were removed from a couple trees that blew down a few years ago. The trees ultimately became firewood for people in need, but the limbs remain in a tall pile, waiting to be burned. I wondered what kind of critters might have made the future pyre their present sanctuary. That made me little sad.
I averted my eyes from the pile to the next nearest thing, the lawn (if you can call it that). Because the soil so so poor and hard out there, most of the lawn type grass has die off. What is left is quite thin and sickly. What really caught my attention didn't make me too happy. I had been invaded.
One, two, three...nine, ten. TEN!! Ten mole hills dotted my yard; and that was just the small area I could see. That means they will have to be raked down before I can mow later this spring. Even then, all that loose dirt dulls the mower blades, not to mention making the yard all bumpy. Dang moles. What good are they anyway? Now, came the irony and a laugh. Those mound-building moles eat the crane fly larva that destroy the roots of what grass I have left. The moles also aerate my lousy soil. This "can't win for losing" situation suddenly became the opposite. I seems I can't lose for winning.
The last thing I looked at was a small pile of old siding pieces and miscellaneous boards from a project awhile ago. Some is burnable, some is not. It is an eyesore, though small, but only if you look down where it is.
Now, here is where my thinking came in. When I looked close to my house I could see debris to be either dumped or put to use somehow. It needs to be done. I can either take care of it or ignore it by looking somewhere else.
When I looked further away, I saw the "problems": the moles, the lack of grass, the hard soil, the dull mower blades, the uneven ground. But I also realized that one of the problems could be part of the solution. Things might not be as bad as I thought they were.
The beautiful forest with all its color, a touch of heaven on earth, wouldn't even be noticed if I don't lift my eyes from the junk and the problems around me.
My plot of land slowly became a life lesson, a lesson on balance. It would be so easy to spend my days focused on only one thing, trees. I could spend my days watching the trees stand as still as royal guards or gyrate like whirling dervishes. I could watch the pale green of new growth darken with maturity. I could watch yellow pollen blow from reddish brown catkins. I could watch it all and never tire of it. They give me a sense of peace, but my house would collapse around me, and my yard would become either a jungle or a very wet desert.
I could also spend my days focused on one thing, work. I could drive myself crazy with what has to be done. I can become overwhelmed by looking at overgrown gardens and flower beds, weedy grass, mole hills, refuse piles, and dull mower blades. So what do I do?
I try to find balance in my life. I deal with the "up close and personal" stuff, but don't obsess over it. I look at the problems out there, but try to find the positives. Then I celebrate the peace, beauty, and tranquility of the forest.
But that is not enough. I must look beyond even the forest to the heavens, even beyond the heavens to the one who sits on the throne. It is there that the strength, desire, and joy to face the problems and do the work will be found. It is there that true peace, beauty, joy, and tranquility will be found. It is there and only there that perfect balance in one's life will be found.
"I lift up my eyes to the hills--where does my help come from?
My help comes from the Lord who made heaven and earth.
Psalm 121:1-2 NIV
Be blessed,
Jan
Wednesday, February 6, 2013
Two Hours of Blessing
I have just spent two hours being blessed by the presence of one of my teenage granddaughters. As she poured out her passionate heart and unbelievable mind, I sat in awe and wonder. Beneath all her teenage angst, uncertainties, hopes, dreams, and joys is such a strong young woman with a passion for God, and an unwavering faith which completely believes that God is in control; and trusts him.
Even though things that happen in her or her friends' lives may not make sense at times she understands that when God closes one door, he opens another. She also completely understands that the good and the not-to-good, the highs and the lows, the understandable and the inexplicable can all used by God to grow us into whom he wants us to be. These are not things I told her, these are what she told me as we discussed school, friends, social networking, and teenage life in general; and she is just a kid!
She also shared her excitement about going to Winter Camp, a weekend retreat for youth from churches around the district. Something she said made me do a mental double take and examine how I prepare for church retreats. Here is what I do: pack my bag and check it twice to make sure I have my toothbrush and my Bible. Oh yes, notebook and paper. And don't forget the pillow.
Here is what my granddaughter is doing. She is focusing in on God through prayer and Bible reading because she wants to be ready to receive whatever he might have for her at that retreat. Knowing her, she will probably forget her toothbrush, but will experience a touch from God.
And that is all I have to share--just an incredible two hours in the presence of a kid, my granddaughter, who once again reminded me that God is always in control; and he is doing wonderful work in her life. She is being totally blessed. In addition, she is fulfilling God's will for us all. She is truly being a blessing.
Oh Lord, your are great, and your mercies endure for ever. I praise and thank you. Amen.
Even though things that happen in her or her friends' lives may not make sense at times she understands that when God closes one door, he opens another. She also completely understands that the good and the not-to-good, the highs and the lows, the understandable and the inexplicable can all used by God to grow us into whom he wants us to be. These are not things I told her, these are what she told me as we discussed school, friends, social networking, and teenage life in general; and she is just a kid!
She also shared her excitement about going to Winter Camp, a weekend retreat for youth from churches around the district. Something she said made me do a mental double take and examine how I prepare for church retreats. Here is what I do: pack my bag and check it twice to make sure I have my toothbrush and my Bible. Oh yes, notebook and paper. And don't forget the pillow.
Here is what my granddaughter is doing. She is focusing in on God through prayer and Bible reading because she wants to be ready to receive whatever he might have for her at that retreat. Knowing her, she will probably forget her toothbrush, but will experience a touch from God.
And that is all I have to share--just an incredible two hours in the presence of a kid, my granddaughter, who once again reminded me that God is always in control; and he is doing wonderful work in her life. She is being totally blessed. In addition, she is fulfilling God's will for us all. She is truly being a blessing.
Oh Lord, your are great, and your mercies endure for ever. I praise and thank you. Amen.
Monday, February 4, 2013
My First Ever Toothache
Last week was crazy--full of this and that and nothing at all. I went to a boys' basketball game at home--a heart stopper that we won, an out-of-town girls' basketball game that we lost, a hair appointment for a trim (hooray), dinner with my daughter and family (yum), a belated birthday outing with a grandson (fun), and church. I finished up my research paper around 11 last night, got it printed out at Staples this morning, and presented it at our Ladies meeting at noon today. Interspersed through it all was an easy-come-not-so-easy-go toothache. Now that is something I could have done without.
Everything I did last week I have experienced before, everything except the toothache. I've never had one, at least not that I can remember. Over the past few months I have known I had a couple teeth that were sensitive to cold, especially icy drinks, but I could easily work around that minor problem. Waking up in the middle of the night with the whole side of my face hurting was another story.
I pulled my comforter up to my nose and did what I do best in situations like this. I thought it to death. I tried to figure what tooth or teeth were hurting. Was it really my teeth or something else? What could have set this whole pain thing off? Had I been grinding my teeth, clinching my jaws, or... I'll let you fill in the blank.
I finally decided the pain was probably coming from the molar I cracked when I fell in the school parking lot a year ago. My dentist hadn't been sure he could save the tooth, but he would try. Yes, that was probably the problem. With that determination made I continued thinking, not about the cause, but about the remedy. I could get up and take some aspirin or some ibuprofen. I could bring out the big guns and take half a hydrocodone. I still have quite a few left from my surgery.
Those who know me probably have already guessed what I did. If you guessed "nothing" you are absolutely right. I just remained snuggled in my bed with my covers pull up, my eyes closed, and said, "Lord, I don't have time for this right now." Before I knew it, morning had arrived and the toothache had gone.
It stayed away most of the day, but by evening little twinges had returned. Now, what is this? It wasn't my molar that was bothering me, but someplace in the area of the front tooth I had knocked out in my big winter fall. Aspirin, ibuprofen, or hydrocodone? Again I chose none of the above, that is until I had been in bed an hour or so and the molar started in. With the two teeth singing a duet of pain, I decided to take control and take a couple ibuprofen. It worked. In no time at all peace, quiet, and a pain free face returned.
After putting up with this recurring problem all week and thinking it to death plus analyzing it through an autopsy and burial, I decided it wasn't going away. This afternoon I called my dentist and made an appointment for Wednesday afternoon.
Here's the crazy thing, though. All week I've put up with this nagging problem and not once asked the Lord to take care of it. That is really sad. I'd better get busy praying so I will be able to cancel the dentist appointment.
Praying for a pain-free night and a pain-free tomorrow.
Have a great night, Jan
Everything I did last week I have experienced before, everything except the toothache. I've never had one, at least not that I can remember. Over the past few months I have known I had a couple teeth that were sensitive to cold, especially icy drinks, but I could easily work around that minor problem. Waking up in the middle of the night with the whole side of my face hurting was another story.
I pulled my comforter up to my nose and did what I do best in situations like this. I thought it to death. I tried to figure what tooth or teeth were hurting. Was it really my teeth or something else? What could have set this whole pain thing off? Had I been grinding my teeth, clinching my jaws, or... I'll let you fill in the blank.
I finally decided the pain was probably coming from the molar I cracked when I fell in the school parking lot a year ago. My dentist hadn't been sure he could save the tooth, but he would try. Yes, that was probably the problem. With that determination made I continued thinking, not about the cause, but about the remedy. I could get up and take some aspirin or some ibuprofen. I could bring out the big guns and take half a hydrocodone. I still have quite a few left from my surgery.
Those who know me probably have already guessed what I did. If you guessed "nothing" you are absolutely right. I just remained snuggled in my bed with my covers pull up, my eyes closed, and said, "Lord, I don't have time for this right now." Before I knew it, morning had arrived and the toothache had gone.
It stayed away most of the day, but by evening little twinges had returned. Now, what is this? It wasn't my molar that was bothering me, but someplace in the area of the front tooth I had knocked out in my big winter fall. Aspirin, ibuprofen, or hydrocodone? Again I chose none of the above, that is until I had been in bed an hour or so and the molar started in. With the two teeth singing a duet of pain, I decided to take control and take a couple ibuprofen. It worked. In no time at all peace, quiet, and a pain free face returned.
After putting up with this recurring problem all week and thinking it to death plus analyzing it through an autopsy and burial, I decided it wasn't going away. This afternoon I called my dentist and made an appointment for Wednesday afternoon.
Here's the crazy thing, though. All week I've put up with this nagging problem and not once asked the Lord to take care of it. That is really sad. I'd better get busy praying so I will be able to cancel the dentist appointment.
Praying for a pain-free night and a pain-free tomorrow.
Have a great night, Jan
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