Why do I keep asking why?

My son was very, very verbal when he was little.  One of those double edged swords:  large vocabulary but also talking ALL the time.

One Thursday evening, as we were driving home from the church Eucharist and potluck, he was sitting in his car seat behind my husband and me.  As we drove down the street, my son just kept talking and talking.

"Why is the stoplight red?"
"Why is the stoplight green?"
"Why are we driving so slowly?"
"Why does the moon look so big?"
"Why do I keep asking why?"

At which point, the comic relief filled the car, as did a brief respite from all the questions.

I often retell that story.  Mainly because it is funny, but also because it is a poignant metaphor for life.  Sometimes we are all just so caught up in trying to figure out why, that we miss the what that is happening right before us.  The what of family.  The what of humor. The what of grace.

To sleep or to pee?

This morning at 2:12am, I had a dilemma.  Should I get up and go to the toilet?  Or should I try to sleep through and make it to the morning?

It seems obvious in the light of day... if your bladder says it needs to be emptied, do it!  But there are so many other considerations in the middle of the night.  I'm not totally awake.  If I get up, will I be able to go back to sleep?  Our house is really quiet at night.  If I get up, will I awaken other family members?  Will they be able to get back to sleep?  We have cats that rely on routine.  If I get up, will a cat decide that signals morning and start meowing... waking up all of us?

This morning, I chose to wake up and go to the downstairs bathroom.  And, it set off the chain of events I was afraid of.  A family member then also got up to use the upstairs bathroom.  A cat followed me back to bed, sat on my chest, and purred loudly.  But, we all managed to go back to sleep and stay asleep until the alarm went off.

Maybe this evening I will drink less fluid.

A panhandler and a Persian restaurant

Today was cold, damp, and overcast.  As I walked from the library to a new small Persian restaurant for lunch, a man approached me and asked for money to buy food.  He said he hadn't eaten in three days.  I invited him to join me for lunch, and he accepted the invitation.

As soon as we walked into the tiny, quiet restaurant with four tables, I was sure that I had made a mistake inviting the panhandler, John, to join me for lunch there.  Surely, we could have walked another block to the diner, where there would be male waiters, more customers, and a more "American" menu.  But, we were seated, and ordered our food.  John talked most of the time.  I listened politely, and attempted to give advice occasionally.  Boy, was the food taking a long time!  Man, was the place quiet.  I was starting to worry that we were bothering the four other people in the restaurant.  What had I gotten myself into?

John and I talked about being Christian.  John kept talking about the $28 that would put him and his girlfriend and their two kids back on their feet.  He never asked me directly for cash, but was very obviously hinting.  I intuited that parts of his story were real and parts were made up for sympathy; but I couldn't tell which pieces were which.

Before the food came, he almost asked me straight out for money.  I responded that I could buy him lunch and pray for him.  John looked disappointed, and to both of our relief, suddenly remembered an appointment he had to get to.

Moments after John left, the owner brought me our food (two entrees), and I proceeded to eat both of them.  She then gave me tea and dessert "on the house" for the good deed I attempted to do.  I pray that some good came out of it; but for now, I just want to take a shower and a nap!

Miraculous Healing

I had Chronic Fatigue Syndrome for four and a half years going into November of my junior year of college. I wanted it to be gone, but had pretty much resigned myself to having it indefinitely.

I was eating lunch with a friend of mine from church, Robin, and discussing my choice of lunch: roast beef sandwich, Cheetos, and juice. I said I was eating the roast beef for protein and the Cheetos for salt because a high-salt-and-protein diet helped me feel better from CFS. Suddenly, she looked at me and said, "Darby, you're not going to have Chronic Fatigue for much longer."

I thought, "Wow, that is nice of her to be thinking positively."

But then she said, "Don't ask me how I know, I just know. You are not going to have Chronic Fatigue for much longer."

I got tingles, because rarely, if ever, had I heard prophecy about myself, let alone from an Episcopalian. Her words were reinforced for me two days later as I was walking to the library, when I had a vision of me sitting in church and crying for joy. As I studied myself closer, I realized that it was because my CFS was gone.

Since the church that I had the image of was the church I attended during college, I decided I better be there the next day so I did not miss the event. So Sunday morning I made sure I was up early and dressed more nicely than I ever had before to go to church. (I was not going to have some miraculous event happen to me in jeans!)

As the service began, I prayed that this day I might be healed. I then sat and waited. Nothing was happening. Then the music began right before communion. I started to shake with excitement. I thought, "This is it! God is going to take my CFS away during communion!"

Normally, I receive communion on the right side near the wall. This Sunday I was front and center, directly under the cross. As I knelt at the rail, I looked up at the cross and thanked God for the miracle that was about to occur and stated that I was ready for it. I ate my share of the bread and wine, and my CFS was gone.

I had expected it to be like on TV when someone dies and a transparent version of themselves lifts away. But it was not like that. It was a feeling that all the fatigue and depression were gone, and in their place was joy and energy.

I went home and called everyone I could think of to tell them the news. Some people were overjoyed. Some were skeptical. But I figured that God would not have healed me so dramatically if I were not to share the story and show that not only does God exist, He is still involved in our "here and now."

What do I have to be thankful for?

Every year about the end of October, I sigh and groan and say swear words.  Not the most appropriate way to begin planning my yearly healing anniversary party.  Back in 1996, I was healed of Chronic Fatigue Syndrome while taking communion at St. Andrew's Episcopal Church in Lewisburg, PA.  (More about that in this post...)  I figured, or maybe God told me, that the reason to be healed so spectacularly was so that I would use my story to begin to talk about God with people.

I didn't realize that I would still be so reluctant to discuss my faith with people this many years after that experience.  So, I force myself to throw an anniversary party every year and tell my healing story.  I force myself to invite people that I may not otherwise ever let know that I'm a practicing Christian.

Last year, as I was moaning and complaining, I thought, "Why do I have to do this now?  Why in November?  This is such a hard season for me with my struggles with depression."  And then, I realized that November was the perfect month to force me to throw a party that was about joy and gratitude, precisely because it is such a hard time of year for me.

So, if you see me around in the months when the days are shrinking, ask me about my healing story, or just ask me about what makes me joyful today.

God is NOT the frosting on the cake

I was sitting with Susan for spiritual direction last week, and I mentioned that a lot of times families view God like icing... that they have what they're doing already and they just kind of spread God over it, or bring God along with what they are already doing, instead of letting God penetrate their lives and be the base of what they're doing. 

Susan replied that she envisions a book that is made up of little vignettes. The title is God is not the frosting on the cake. The cover has a picture of a cupcake that has a smiley face on it.  

My homework is to begin writing. So now I will begin putting together the pieces: writing stories, advice, and poetry.