Category: Contentment

Free

Dear ones, this last month has been full of speaking and writing projects, but I wanted to go back in time just a little because I miss you and it’s been a long four weeks. I originally wrote this in the Easter season of 2013 while Chase was in treatment and I’d recently received some very critical feedback on desiring to find joy in suffering. A dozen times, I sat down to write out a “So there!” defense of where Bob and I stood, but there were no good words…until Easter. My freedom to write isn’t bound up in who I am (I need no argument or plea!), but rather, in who God is.

Free to write, free for joy, free in Christ because of the cross.

I hope you are free this weekend, this year, and this life too.

Our weeping is for a season, but joy comes in the morning (Psalm 30:5).

Waiting for the Eternal Morning!

~ E

As a Christian, Easter is one of the most important times of my year. It’s the season I set aside to celebrate what Jesus did for me, but this year is more precious as I consider how the events of Easter fit into our cancer world.

I believe with all my heart that Jesus is the son of God, that the Bible is true, and that the promises it contains are real and this is why I so often include verses in my blog posts–to remind myself of what I know to be true when my circumstances are overwhelming (which they often are). In those moments, I literally have the physical sensation of drowning.  Believing as I do doesn’t change the pain of cancer or anything else in this life, but it can and does change how I face the drowning moments.

Often, like the thief on the cross next to Jesus–not the mocker, but the other–the weight of life and pain (some self-inflicted, some not) closes in and I cry out.  And then comes the reply,

“Truly, I say to you, today you will be with me in Paradise.”

That’s it! This is the answer to the agony. The pain and suffering is only a season, because death is swallowed up in Jesus’ glorious victory and its sting is gone. One day soon I will be with Jesus in Heaven!

Because I know God made me, and I will be in Heaven with Him forever when this weary life is over, I am freed from the drowning to feel joy in sorrow and peace in chaos. Death may be sad, but it need not sting because this life is not the end, but the beginning.

In the midst of this cancer world, there can be incredible, inexplicable peace because my ultimate struggle has already been resolved. My sin was taken care of on the cross by God Himself! All that happens in my life is what He lovingly allows for His pleasure and glory. Someday I will be complete and lacking in nothing and with Him forever in fullness of joy.

This is my cancer foundation. This is my life foundation.

Moment by moment.

“He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away.” Revelations 21:4

 

Amazing Easter thoughts that encouraged my heart today ~

Ann Voskamp writes from the perspective of the mother who watches her son die… How Good Friday Meets All Our Hard.

Greg Morse shows how A Savior Stepped Forward on the Desiring God blog.

Where Missions And Cancer Meet

“This was one of the first times I made a conscious decision, in the midst of a very difficult situation, to say yes immediately to God’s ways and trust his promise to keep me under his wings.” ~ Connie Patty, on unexpected, frightening hospital days spent awaiting the birth of her first child, July, 1990

Dear Ones,

Today, I want to encourage you with a book: No Less Than Yes.

It is Connie’s firsthand account of her calling to missions in Eastern Europe and her life there with her husband, Dave and their three children. The entire piece is woven together with breath-taking, amazing stories, as only Connie can. Warning: carve out some time, because you’ll not be able to stop turning pages.

But why share a missionary’s story (as lovely as it is) for encouragement on a cancer-dominated blog?

  • This story is unique because unlike many missionary stories (recorded posthumously), this is LIVE! It’s happening right NOW! The book is a spectacular glimpse into a living, working, miraculous God even in the mess of our current age.
  • The heart of this story is one of learning love for and obedience to God in hard things – accepting that He is good no matter what occurs. Um, sound familiar, my cancer friends?
  • And finally, you’ll be able to relate as Connie has had her share of health trials – both as an individual and as mother. Her open heart throughout the book will bless you. She unfailing chronicles not only the hospital journeys (yes, there are more than one), but also the struggles. She doesn’t shy away from being truthful when it hurts to trust God.

As you read her words, you will be encouraged to persevere in the journey God has for you. So, I’d urge you to pick up a copy of this book today.

Moment by moment,

Ellie

You can find No Less Than Yes on Amazon HERE.

For more on Dave and Connie’s work in Eastern Europe, visit the Josiah Venture website HERE.

You Are Loved

“The faithful love of the Lord never ends! His mercies never cease.” Lamentations 3:22

“I can’t do this.”

His precious little mouth contorted on the one side – the way it always did when he became scared. “Mom, I’m not a first grader. I can’t do this. I need to go back to kindergarten.”

Behind his back, the window glowed with the last remnants of the sunset, signaling night…the night before school.

Chase shook his fuzzy, scarred head with each new sentence of voiced fear. After months of proudly proclaiming his being in first grade now and – including outrageous claims for privilege (“I should get to stay up late at night and watch Netflix because I’m a first-grader now, Mom.”) – the time had finally come and he felt himself unequal to the road in front of him.

His words flooded my heart as I heard echoes of my own timid voice in memory. Through his cancer, the ambulances, the hospitals, childbirth, even marriage… big things. Life things.

I can’t do this. God, I’m not ready for this.

I’m too young…

Too immature…

Too imperfect…

Too scared…

I need more time to prepare.

To get it right…

To be aware…

To make it count…

But here’s the thing with life… When I am blind-sided with my weakness and need, God is aware of the plan – my perfect life plan. And when things feel underdone and undone, out-of-nowhere, frenzied and stressed, He alone knows the ways to make them count for my good and His glory.

I knelt in front of Chase and put my hands lightly on his arms. Oh, how I wanted him to listen and connect with the words I needed to say. “Chase, you can and you will – because you are ready. It doesn’t feel like it yet, but you’re ready;” I paused, searching for the right words, “And, you are loved.”

You are loved.

In the hard moments when our brains acknowledge our good and His glory, but daily life throws gut punches that leave us lacking, gasping “I can’t do this”, it comes down to those very few words: I am loved; you are loved. These are the conduit from our head to our heart – from knowing what’s true to believing and resting in what’s good: His faithful love.

This had become a key sentence with my darling cancer survivor over the last several months. With his age and progression comes the increasing sense of “other”. He knows he looks different from those around him and often reacts differently too. He is strong, but it takes precious little for the remorse and regret to set in – and the fear too. I watch him feel unequal to the road in front of him and know beyond a shadow of a doubt that only perfect love can conquer this fear. And I know because I feel my own weakness, sadness and fear.

So, in the sunset before that August big day, as Chase lay his head down to sleep in that sixth year of a life we never thought he’d have, I grabbed the first piece of paper I could find (for it’s the words that are most important, not on what they are written) and I wrote what I believe…what I know and too often forget: You are loved. And then I tucked it, folded small into the blue top pocket of the crisp, new backpack to be found on the bus the next morning.

For truly, these words give a strength and joy like none other. And with these words, we are ready for anything life may bring – in His grace – moment by moment.

“See how very much our Father loves us, for he calls us his children, and that is what we are!” 1 John 3:1a

“Repeat them again and again to your children. Talk about them when you are at home and when you are on the road, when you are going to bed and when you are getting up. Tie them to your hands and wear them on your forehead as reminders.” Deuteronomy 6:7-8

 

The Gift of Godly Contentment

The vase crashed to the floor, shattering the fragile glass. Water and greens tumbling off the wooden table and onto the freshly cleaned carpet as the rolling, tussling boys reversed direction, their war cries drowning out any attempts to arrest their attention.

And the irony was this: as my blood pressure escalated with their fight, I wanted to laugh because I was supposed to be writing about godly contentment.

“Jesus… What am I doing?”

Hannah and Chase

How do I possibly write about something that seems to be disappearing even as I reach for it? No, not even reach…just consider it. The more I tried to put trust in God and the contentment He brings, the more I tried to put that down on a glowing computer screen, the more it seemed to allude me.

And then short days later, we were driving through the dark hills of Pennsylvania with the DVD player blaring Holiday Inn and the unpolished, unfinished words had yet to be fully written and that’s when the panic set in.

“Jesus… What am I doing?”

Karsten and Benjamin
25-year-long friends

And then it was suddenly the morning of getting up and saying all the words – speaking them to people who needed to hear. How do you give help and answers when you’re the weak one?

“Jesus… What am I doing?”

And then the answer; quiet and true. I’m doing nothing. I open my mouth, but it’s up to Jesus to open ears and hearts. And isn’t that just like Jesus…like his written promises stuffed throughout the Bible?

Strength when you need it.

Strength only and best when you recognize your weakness.

Strength to your own heart when you try to help others – so much blessing in service.

It was in laying down the stress of finding the right words, laying down the pressure to be the right person, that God made it right – made it light.

God uses the broken. 

Moment by moment.

It’s far easier to practice contentment if I don’t think about any of it, but that isn’t true peace. At times, it’s almost easier to accept that parts of our stories are random than that the painful chapters could actually hold great beauty and purpose. Don’t be afraid to lean into Him for the hope he’s promised. ~ a brief quote from my time with the ladies of Bethel Baptist Church in Wilmington, Delaware

For the full transcript of the December 3rd Christmas tea talk: “The Gift Of Godly Contentment” (wherein I share what it has looked like to wait for God in our silent and desolate times) – click here.

 

A Hopeful Surrender

Monday.

This day that brings a new start; a new week. Why does it betray me on the regular?

The weekends are full – sometimes precious, sometimes hurt-filled and disappointing, but always tiring. And then here it is a new morning and I feel like I’m starting a fire against damp, weak wood. I’m out before I’ve ever started. I don’t even have the energy to even fake it and somehow, the hours leading up to 9:00am are chalked-up full of the classic one-two punch – sometimes literally.

One child has a cold, drama, and undone homework.

One is having trouble breathing and can’t find inhaler, glasses, or gym shoes (which turn out to be wet and muddy when found).

And one has a headache which leads to a vicious unraveling – a spewing of anger and frustration on everyone in the house.

Between thinking about a healthy breakfast, trying to care about lunches, drying shoes, finding glasses, and hostage-negotiating the bald headache victim, I can’t find my own breath; my own pace. I can’t even hear myself think.

These hours are full of reaction, not planned pro-action and I feel my senses filling up with overwhelm.

Why me? Why now? Why is it always this way? What am I doing wrong that the wheels not only fall of the wagon, but seem to be forever lost? 

How do I fan a flame for life and diligence when the day feels ruined before it’s hardly started?

I find myself searching like the drowning. Where is the salvation that will allow my head to stay up and breath through just one more day. One more moment…

I heard it yesterday on the radio and my mind flashes back in a rare moment of clarity:

“The Word of the Lord endures forever.”

I have nothing. He is everything. 

My moments will pass like breath. (why did I think they’d do anything else?) He is forever.

I don’t have to fight for strength because in my weakness, He is strong.

So, as I stand in the middle of a day hardly begun and already shattered, I find hope and strength – not in the picking up of the stressful pieces, but rather in the act of LAYING THEM DOWN.

Choosing a hopeful surrender…

Moment by moment.

The grass withers and the flowers fall,
    but the word of our God endures forever.

Isaiah 40:8, NIV

Stock photo from Pexels: courtesy of unsplash . com
Stock photo from Pexels: courtesy of unsplash . com

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