Swan Song

This is my last post here. (It feels so surreal for me!) This blog has been an amazing journey for me, and now I'm ready to embark on some new adventures. Before I walk away from A Room with Books and Music, I have a few thoughts I want to leave with you:

Lupus (or any other life-changing diagnosis) is not the end of your life. It is the start of a different life. Live every moment you have left on this earth to the fullest. Whether they be few or many, make the most of every one.

Hard does not mean bad. A lot of beauty is forged in the crucible of hard. Find the beauty in the midst of hard days.

There are a lot of people that treat cynicism like a virtue. But cynicism is the easy path. Choosing to see good, potential, and possibilities takes a lot more creativity than cynicism. This is not ignorance. This is courageous living.

Drown out fear with the words of God and glimpses of who He is. (Insert link) He is peace in the midst of chaos, light in the midst of darkness, and strength in the midst of weakness. 

And finally,
to all of the people who have been part of this wonderful journey, 

to the people who took the time to read my blog, 

to the people who have encouraged me and told me what my words have meant to them, 

to the people who have made my voice louder by sharing my posts with others, 

and to the people who have lifted me up in their prayers...

Thank you.

TBT

Stuff I could do before I had lupus:

Get out of bed without waiting for my joints to loosen up.

Skip breakfast.

Eat garlic AND walk the next morning.

Play with my long, flowing hair without worrying about it falling out.

Open a bottle of water by myself.

Work hard late into the night, sleep a little, do it again the next day.

Practice the piano all day like it's no big deal.

Play the cello (for even a few minutes) without experiencing intense pain.

Write and draw for hours without having to get cortisone shots in my hands afterwards.

Move painlessly after a day out in the sun.

Remember everything.

Hugs for everyone!

Stuff I took for granted before I had lupus:

The joy of being able to get out of bed on my own.
The strength to do a job that I love.
Science and easy access to medicine.
So many people in my life who shower me with love, prayer, and encouragement.
A husband that stands by my side through the good days and the bad.
 God's mercy truly is new every morning,
and He truly does strengthen me with joy.
Hope.
Music.
Good days.
Peace in the midst of the not so good days.
Every day.

Pictures of Lupus, Opus 7

I know that I've already posted a pic of my meds in this series, but the task of organizing these pills is such a recurrent drudgery that I thought it was worth looking at again from a different angle. I take 16-19 pills a day to manage lupus and its symptoms. But doing this mundane task well is so important to helping me live life to the fullest, invest into my students energetically, and make music passionately. There is much to thank God for in the midst of the drudgery!

What Doing Less Accomplished

At the start of the year, I made a commitment to do less to accomplish more. It was scary at first. A part of me was afraid that I was following a lie—that doing less would not accomplish more as I had hoped. An even bigger part of me felt like I was being lazy or unproductive. But I have learned that having space in my life and getting the rest I need can be one of the most productive things I can do for myself and the people I love. Intentionally creating space and having rest does indeed make room for greater things.

So what exactly did I accomplish by doing less this year? Here's a glimpse:

1. I've done the dishes and laundry. This may sound silly, but for so long I didn't have any strength at all to do some basic things. I was so depleted from work that I had no strength left in the evenings or weekends to do anything. My husband had to do these things for me 100% of the time (on top of working full time and grad school). He still helps me a lot, but the burden is no longer completely on his shoulders. This may not seem like that big of a deal, but being able to contribute to doing the dishes and laundry has given us space to do better things...

2. Instead of spending all of my free time lying down in bed or on the couch in exhaustion, I've been able to enjoy life with my husband. (It also helps that he isn't exhausted from doing everything in the house.) We've gone out, explored bookstores, played board games, and had meaningful conversations. (If you can't tell, we're both introverts.) We did more exciting things too...like going to Disney World (which is a pretty big accomplishment when you have lupus).

3. This past semester, I did NOT dismiss any of piano students early so I could go throw up. This is an actual accomplishment? Yes, it is. Lupus has a way of making sudden, unexpected appearances. But it's amazing what a difference resting and taking care of your body can have. My lupus is still active and I still experience fatigue and aches and pains—I had a total of 4 cortisone injections this past semester alone—but lupus hasn't kept me from being present to my students. I can honestly look back at this past semester and be proud of what I gave in every lesson. (If you're one of my students, I'm sure you have your own opinions of how each lesson went. Let's just celebrate the good stuff right now.)

4. I've done things with friends. I couldn't do this last year. (Again, I had no strength.) And not being able to cultivate relationships left me feeling lonely and emotionally drained. (Even the most introverted people need relationships.) But this year, I've gone out for coffee, lunch, and even the movies with friends! I'm not exactly a social butterfly now, but the fact that I had a social life at all this year is a huge victory for me. After all, it's not all or nothing. It's better to have a limited social life than none at all.

5. I performed my first full piano recital since my lupus diagnosis. When I finished my Master's degree, I imagined that performing recitals would be a yearly thing, but lupus put that dream on hold...indefinitely. I don't know if this is something I'll do every single year, but it's such a good feeling to know that performing as a soloist is back on the table. My music-making days are not over yet.

6. I've started dreaming again. There are so many things that got pushed aside when lupus came into the picture. But this year, old dreams have been revived and new dreams have been born. Steps are being taken. Parts are moving. Big things are in the works. (I realize I'm being vague, but some things need time to develop and take some shape before sharing with the rest of the world.)

Even though I didn't cross off every item on my 2015 list of goals (such as learning Latin or songs on the ukulele), I love what doing less allowed me to accomplish this year. So as I look forward to the coming year, what is my theme/goal/resolution going to be?

Reprise: Continue to do less to accomplish more. 

I know, after this past year, my new theme isn't very original. I don't care. It's not that I can't think of something better. And it's definitely not that I don't feel like I made enough progress in 2015. It's that I feel like I'm just getting started. Of course, I want new adventures. But I'm at a point in my life when, in order to find new adventures, I need to go deeper and farther. I'm not scratching items off a list. I'm growing, transforming, becoming. 

So bring it on, 2016. I'm ready for you!

Piano Recitals and Lupus

In a little over a month, I will be giving my first piano recital in three years. The last time I gave a recital was months before I was diagnosed with lupus. At the time, I had just earned my Master's in piano performance. The path to that achievement felt like a huge mountain climb, made even steeper by carpal tunnel syndrome and tendonitis in both my hands and wrists. I had no idea that I had a bigger mountain waiting for me right around the corner.

Days before my last "pre-lupus" recital, I wrote in my journal:

Sunday, July 8, 2012

     My shoulder keeps slipping out of place and the joints in my hand are swelling. I was planning on taking a break from the pain medications this summer, but instead I'm taking more pain pills than I've ever taken in my whole life just to function. I have some important performances coming up this month. It will take a miracle for my hands to endure the physical requirements of my pieces and make it through from start to finish. At any moment my hands could stop...I go into every performance with a strong awareness that it could be my last and it will happen only because God will make it happen.

After the recital, my health continued to grow worse:

Sunday, July 22, 2012
     My hands are still painfully swollen. I have pain in my feet, knees, shoulders, and neck....even with all the Mobic, Tylenol, anti-inflammatory cream, and Tiger Balm. It's been going on for about a month now. I'm starting to get worried. Could this be something serious? What is happening to me? Will my body ever have rest from all of these medical problems? I'm only thirty, but I feel like my body is falling apart and shutting down. Even though I know God is taking care of me, I'm still afraid.

I often hear people say, "God will never give you more than you can handle." When it comes to hard stuff in life, I think that's a load of crap. In the months that followed these journal entries, God definitely allowed me to go through way beyond what I could handle. Every morning, every night, I cried to God for mercy. I can't handle the pain! I have absolutely no strength left! I can't go through this one more day! I wasn't being dramatic. I was in too much pain to move. Playing the piano wasn't possible. I had lost over twenty pounds in less than two months. At least a third of my hair had fallen out. And without a diagnosis, there was nothing the doctors could do to help me. I had nothing in me left to keep going. And I was completely dependent on God to sustain me.

So a little over three years later, I'm doing a piano recital. (At this point, I'm tearing up as I type.) So yeah, I think this is pretty awesome. Even if I end up making a lot of mistakes and the performance doesn't sound anything like how I practiced - I really hope that's not the case and that it's amazing - I'm just so happy to be able to play and perform again. To be honest, I'm so glad God let me go through more than I could handle a few years ago. If He hadn't - if He would have let me have easy - I don't think I would experience the profound joy that I have when I play. I'm sure I still would have had joy, but not quite so profound. Music wouldn't be quite so precious and this performance wouldn't be so special. That's the beauty of hard things: They make the good things so much better. Oh, how I love how God shapes life's adventures!

To read more about my piano recital adventure, click here and here.

A Promise

I made a promise.

Back in July, my friend who was battling cancer posted these words on Facebook:

"Hey guys. I just wanted to give you guys a heads up.

September is lymphoma awareness month.

It means something to me."

I asked if she could give a reminder when the time came close. "I'll give you some Facebook and blog love," I wrote. She assured me that she would give a reminder. A few days before the start of Lymphoma Awareness Month, a reminder came, but not in the way I was anticipating. On August 29, 2015, Randi passed away and took her first steps in Heaven. She was 34 years old. She loved Jesus and she held onto Him until the very end.

In honor of my friend, I decided to keep my promise. I believe that Randi would want people to know that lymphoma sucks and cancer is hard. But I think that more than that, she would want people to know that God is good and cancer is not the end of hope. I met Randi in Bible college, where she was training to be a worship leader. Worshipping God isn't just something she did. It's how she lived her life. She sang praises to God until the very end. When the pain was at its worst, she kept trusting God. She loved Him with her entire being, and now she is finally at rest in His glorious presence. As I have dealt with lupus, I could always look to Randi for inspiration and encouragement. She went through so much, but was always full of joy, strength, and she was always ready to pray for anyone who had a need. She was a warrior. Her courage gave me courage. Her life was too short, but she lived a life that was full and significant. I am honored that I had the chance to be impacted by her.

In the last months of her life and battle with cancer, Randi shared some passages from the Bible on her Facebook wall. The verses that she chose are revealing of the hope that she had. A hope that wasn't dependent on her circumstances or emotions. A hope that was unwavering and deeply rooted in a strong, big, and loving God. In honor of her, I want to share these verses with you because I think that no matter what you're going through, she would want you to know the love of Jesus and to have the hope that she had.

The Lord will fight for you; you need only to be still. (Exodus 14:14)

For the Lord himself will come down from heaven, with a loud command, with the voice of the archangel and with the trumpet call of God, and the dead in Christ will rise first. After that, we who are still alive and are left will be caught up together with them in the clouds to meet the Lord in the air. And so we will be with the Lord forever. (1 Thessalonians 4:16-17)

I saw the Holy City, the new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride beautifully dressed for her husband. And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, "Now the dwelling of God is with men, and he will live with them. They will be his people, and God himself will be with them and be their God. He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away." (Revelation 21:2-4)

But our citizenship is in heaven. And we eagerly await a Savior from there, the Lord Jesus Christ. (Philippians 3:20)

We miss you already, Randi. Thank you for living your life well. Now rest in the arms of your Savior. <3

How To Encourage Someone With A Chronic Illness (Part 4)

In my earlier posts on this subject of giving encouragement, I've focused on things that need to always be kept in mind when it comes to your relationship with a person with a chronic illness. In fact, some of my advice could have just as easily been for a post titled, "How To Not Discourage Someone With A Chronic Illness." This final "chapter" of the series is the fun one. At least, I think it is. The first three parts (you can check them out here, here, and here) were definitely much more intense to write. But this fun one's for those of you who want to go the extra mile and do something.

9. Do something tangible.

The sky's the limit with this one. This list is nowhere near comprehensive. But I hope that it gets your creative juices flowing. :)

Hugs...but only if you're not sick! If you are sick, just say, "I'd give you a hug, but I'm sick and don't want to pass it on to you." (Btw, if it's flu season, please don't be offended if they back away from a hug. Also, you might want to first ask if a hug would be okay. They may not be a hugger. And even if they are, they might need a chance to warn you that they're hurting a little extra that day and need a gentler hug.)

Bring them some coffee or food - homemade or store bought. I'm not the type of person who asks for stuff like this, but if you offer, I might just take you up on it! Make sure to ask them if they have any dietary restrictions first. :)

Invite them over to your house for a meal. My husband and I live far away from our familes. So when I was first diagnosed with lupus, it was a huge blessing when people invited us over for a meal. It gave us one less meal to worry about during a very overwhelming time. It was also so wonderful to be able to be with other people. The months leading to diagnosis were difficult, and having a social life was not possible. So these post-diagnosis meals were very special and I don't think I will ever forget any of them.

Offer to help with a chore or errand. Doing dishes, shoveling snow, raking, cleaning, laundry...I think you get the idea. Living with a chronic illness is hard work! Sometimes, getting stuff done around the house or running to the store can feel like too much when you're just trying to get through the day-to-day. And it's really easy for the discouragement to pile up along with the messes and growing to-do lists. A helping hand for even the smallest task can go a long way to give someone the boost they need.

Small gifts or care packages. It doesn't need to cost much. Don't underestimate how encouraging something as small as their favorite candy bar or a box of Kleenex (the good kind with the lotion in it) can be. Very recently, I was shopping at Target when a purple wreath caught my eye. I took a picture of it on my phone and posted it on Facebook with this caption:

I want this so bad for Lupus Awareness Month!

Does anyone want to buy it for me?

I was kidding. I thought my silly Facebook pic would be the closest I would get to displaying that wreath. I really wasn't fishing for someone to actually buy it for me. Really! But later that day, a dear friend sent me a long message with beautiful words of encouragement. She ended it with this: "PS - The wreath is ordered and on its way to your home."  I happy cried.

Speaking of purple...

Show support for them during awareness days or months. Last May, I asked my friends to wear purple and take selfies for Put On Purple Day and Lupus Awareness Month. Every time I got tagged on a photo, my day got brighter and brighter.

I've mentioned this before, but I'll say it again: Write a thoughtful note or card. It might even become something they treasure!

And now...drumroll please! Here's my very last tip in this series!

10. Ask.

Everyone is different. Words or actions that encourage one person may fail to encourage another. So if you've read my numerous posts on the subject and still feel at a loss, simply ask. If you don't know what to ask, here's a few ideas to get you started:

"How can I encourage you right now?" or "Is there anything I can do for you in addition to praying?" Just being asked lets me know that I am loved and not alone.

Here's the problem: If you want to do something more tangible for me and you ask me questions like this, I will typically draw a blank and say, "I think I'm all good," or "There's probably something but I just can't think of it right now." I'm not trying to be rude. I promise! I'm just really bad at answering questions like this on the spot. So if you want to do more to encourage someone, you might need to be a little more specific...

"Have you eaten? Can I bring you some coffee or any food?" 

"Would it be okay if I come over to help you [insert chore or errand]?" For this one, make sure you do it in a way that is gentle. Choose your words and tone carefully so that you don't come across as demanding, demeaning, or intrusive. Also know that the person may initially say "no" when you ask, but they will remember your kindness in offering. And there might be a day when they feel like they have used up the last of their strength, and just knowing you have an offer on the table to help with the dishes may be the lifeline they need.

"Would you like me to help watch your kids tomorrow so that you can take a nap?" I don't have any kids, but I've heard from my friends who are parents that they don't get any sleep. Naps are really great for people with chronic illness, but it can be hard to make them happen. So if you know a parent with a chronic illness, I bet that enabling them to take a nap would make them very happy!

- - - - -

I hope this post gave you some good ideas. I'm sure that there are a lot of things that I didn't mention. What are some of your ideas? Feel free to leave a comment. I'd love to hear from you!

How To Encourage Someone With A Chronic Illness (Part 3)

"What's the best way to encourage someone with a chronic illness?" When a friend asked me this question, I had no idea how hard it would be to answer! I started to answer it here and here. Today, I want to get to the heart of the matter and take a deeper look at emotions.

6. Celebrate with them. 

Celebrate?!? What?! How can you celebrate with someone who has a chronic illness when...they have a chronic illness?! And herein lies the problem. Just because someone has a chronic illness does not mean that they have nothing to celebrate! (By the way, if you think that the above scenario is outrageous and unlikely, I've been on the receiving end of such an attitude...It's very uncomfortable.) 

It can be easy to imagine being there for someone with a chronic illness during the hard times. But they need encouragement in the good times as well! Nothing is more of a downer as when I am taking a moment to celebrate something great in my life, and someone looks at me with pity and says, "I'll be praying for your lupus." WHAT?!? Are you kidding me?! If I just told you something good, even if it's a little thing, don't pity me! Celebrate with me! Sometimes, having a good day can be a big victory, so don't brush those days under the rug as though they don't matter. Celebrate the good days! Celebrate the good things that happen in the midst of bad days! Celebrate the happy things that have nothing to do with illness! When you celebrate with someone who has a chronic illness, you empower them to have dignity, to see their worth as a person, and to experience the joy of living.

(Please note that there are many people who are depressed as a result of or as a symptom of their chronic illness as well as many who are not. Treating someone who is depressed as though they just shouldn't be or with a dismissiveness towards what they are experiencing just adds to the discouragement. The flip side is true: Treating someone who is not depressed as though they are can also be a cause for discouragement.  Just don't assume either way and make sure to take the time to listen.)

Now back to the business at hand. Celebrating with someone who has a chronic illness depends on a basic understanding...

7. Understand they have a full range of emotions.

Most of the time, I'm smiling. It's not a facade. I'm a genuinely, very happy person. I tend to be happy most of the time even when I'm in extreme pain or going through a lot. I am also an extremely expressive musician to the core of my being. My ability to express such deep emotion on stage flows from a life that feels deep emotion on many levels in all aspects of my life. I experience life to the fullest with joy amidst all the highs and lows. Yup. Joy. And lows. There are lows. (Who doesn't have lows from time to time?) So you know what hurts me? It hurts when someone sees me on a day when it's hard to smile and says, "I think you need therapy to learn to cope." Really?! I am in intense pain 100% of the time, I'm bubbly and happy 90-something% of the time, and you think I need to learn to cope? Let me feel all my emotions without guilt!!!! I'm not saying that having lupus gives me a pass to act however I want or to be a Debbie Downer, but don't make me feel like there's something wrong with me just because I go through some hard times.

People who live with chronic illness are not any one emotion 100% of the time. No one is! Just because they are sad one day does not mean they are sad all the time and need counseling. Just because they are happy most of the time doesn't mean they don't ever cry or go through hard times. Just because they exhibit strength most days does not mean that there aren't also times when they are weak. Just because they are smiling does not mean they are not in pain. Just because they are in pain does not mean they are also emotionally hurting. If they are having a string of bad days, they may be just one day away from experiencing a good one. And if they're having a string of good days, they may be just one away from a not-so-good day.

So what do you do with all of this understanding? You empathize. Empathy isn't just something you do when things are going bad. So empathize during the smiles and the tears, the hard days and the good days, the sad times and the happy times. But don't stop there...

8. Live life with them.

A lot of the experiences that have encouraged me the most have had little or nothing to do with lupus. I'm talking about the times when people have simply lived life with me. It can be anything from church, a football watching party (Can you tell that I'm not really a sports person?), or a dinner out with friends. Even though I'm a hardcore introvert, being with people helps keep me going. When I'm alone, it's really easy get wrapped up in my pain or how tired I am. Time alone is the perfect incubator for insecure, sad, and even some scary thoughts. I can get pretty self-absorbed when I'm by myself. Too much time alone isn't good for my spirit or my health. But living life with other people has a way of helping me feel some sense of normalcy and making me feel vibrant again.

Before I continue, let me explain what a sense of normalcy is not. A sense of normalcy is not the same as acting as though everything is completely normal. For me, normal is what my life was before I had lupus. If I try to act like my life is normal, then I'm living a lie. The moment I found out I have lupus, normal went out the window.

A sense of normalcy is the feeling that I am still me. The feeling that life isn't over. The feeling that I can have relationships, and fun, and conversations that go on and on until too late at night. The feeling that I can still laugh. (I tend to laugh more when I'm with other people.) The feeling that I can still tell awesome stories. The feeling that I can still be a friend. Even the feeling that I can still be a useful part of society. I can't make myself feel these things on my own. These are things that are hard to feel. And they're so easy to forget. But when I'm with other people, I start to remember. And when I remember, I start to feel like me again. And what could be more encouraging than that?

Unburdening

I made a major change in my life yesterday. Every since I was diagnosed with lupus, my eating habits, my daily pace, my address, and my job have all changed. But my everyday, go-to bag has not. I've gotten other bags to add to my collection, but they are all too-large-to-call-a-purse, hurt-your-back-and-neck-and-shoulders, and carry-everything-you-possibly-can-including-a-small-library, sized. Until now. 

Yesterday, I decided that I'm done carrying heavy burdens everywhere I go. I decided to "upgrade" to something much smaller. My new purse - it really is small enough to be called a purse - has room for my cellphone, driver's license, debit card, keys, and pillfold. That's it. Five things. Only the essentials. Nothing more. It's liberating. And scary. 

What if five things aren't enough? What if I'm out and I don't have something with me that I neeeeeed?!? What if something bad happens because I didn't have everything with me? 

I had gotten used to my burden. It was my safety blanket...a very painful one, but a safety blanket nonetheless. It made me feel secure to have everything with me "just in case." But sometimes, you have to let go of the security blanket. Sometimes, you have to look your "What ifs" in the face and say, "The world will keep moving, my life will keep going, and it's going to be okay."

How To Encourage Someone With A Chronic Illness (part 1)

Some time ago, a friend asked me, "As a person with chronic illness, what is the best way to encourage you?"

I really appreciated this question. It showed genuine care. It showed an attitude that had my best interest in mind. I have experienced frustration and hurt by some well-meaning people who just didn't know what to say or who were insensitive in their crusade to fix me. I don't mean to sound negative. For every ill-chosen word, I have also received dozens of life-giving words. The sad thing is that it is so easy for the good words to slip from the mind and so difficult for the not-so-good words to un-stick. It can be a struggle to not let the not-so-good words leave me jaded.

The more I thought about my friend's question, the more I realized how hard it is to answer. It can't be answered well in one short conversation or one blog post. (Expect more to follow this one.) So for those of you who are wondering how you can encourage someone who lives with a chronic illness, here are a few things to get you started:

1. Listen. 
I mean, really listen. Sometimes, I just need to feel heard. In my work and relationships, I spend a lot of time investing in and listening to others. I need times when someone will listen to me as well. In fact, the people who have spoken the most life-giving words to me are the ones who listen far more than they speak. To be honest, I don't know how you can begin to know the right words to say if you haven't listened first. I would go so far as to suggest that you should not say (or type) anything until you have first taken the time to listen. (This can be hard in the world of social media and texting, but the difficulty makes the need for listening all the more crucial.)

Listening should always be the starting point. Without listening, it would be really hard to do the rest of the things in this list.

2. Show empathy.
...NOT pity. There are some people who, when they ask me how I'm doing, make a sad face and don't believe me when I say that things are going great. This is pity. It is far from encouraging. Pity makes me feel small, sad, and...pitiful. On the other hand, empathy makes me feel valued and cared for. Empathy is what we are doing when we "put ourselves in someone else's shoes." It is an awareness and understanding of someone else's experiences and emotions. (You can look at the dictionary definition here.) There's something about pity that leverages oneself and lowers the other person, while empathy involves humbling oneself and lifting up the other person. It is hard to articulate how pity and empathy differ in practice, but it is really easy to spot when someone is pitying you. So what makes the difference? Dignity. Empathy says that I am worth being understood. Pity takes away dignity and says that I am "less than."

Speaking of being understood...

3. Understand that my identity is much bigger than my illness. 
In other words, don't reduce my entire identity to my illness. Yes, ask me how I'm feeling. But also ask me about my work. Ask me about the books I'm reading. (I always have one in my purse.) Ask me which piano pieces I'm working on. Ask me about my summer plans. If you have no idea what's going on in my life, ask, "So, what's going on in your life?" This may surprise you, but I do want to talk about things aside from lupus! If you sit down and talk to me, you'll see that my life is much bigger than my struggles with illness. I have other things on my mind as well. I also have a lot to offer. I might even be able to offer you encouragement for something you're going through! But you'll never know if all you see when you look at me is a sick girl.

This applies to prayers as well. One of my biggest pet peeves is when someone says, "I'm praying for your complete healing," but they show no concern for anything else going on in my life. When someone does this, it makes me feel like the person thinks I have no value until I am completely healed of lupus. (It's that dignity thing again!) I know that it is probably not their intention to make me feel this way, and I choose to give them the benefit of the doubt even if they haven't done or said anything to prove otherwise. And I think that if you're reading this, you probably don't want to be someone to whom I have to choose to give the benefit of the doubt. You want to be an encourager. So, if you want to pray for me, don't just pray that God heals me and leave it at that. Pray for me to have strength for the day-to-day. (I'm living a full life that requires a lot of energy.) Pray for the parts of my life that have nothing to do with lupus. Pray for me to be great at my work. Pray for my family. Pray for my dreams.


I'm sure that this list feels far from complete, and it is. This list is far too short for people who really want to do something. This is just a foundation, a starting point. I'll elaborate and give more thoughts on how you can encourage someone with a chronic illness in the weeks to come.

And a couple of last notes:

If you were recently diagnosed with lupus (or any chronic illness), I wrote something special for you. (You can read it here.)

And if you have been living with a chronic illness for some time and have become so discouraged that you can't receive encouragement even in the most wonderful forms from the most loving people, I have a challenge for you: Read through this list again and apply some of it to yourself. Choose dignity. Choose to see your life as something bigger than your illness. Choose to see the good amidst the hard. I'm not saying this will be easy, but the best things in life seldom are. 

This is the first of a series. You can read more here, here, here, and here. 

Lupus, Scriabin, and Holding On

Last summer, as a result of debilitating pain in my right hand and a refusal to throw myself a pity party, I decided I would not stop playing the piano. I studied Scriabin's Nocturne for the Left Hand. That's right. Only the left hand. This morning, I had an opportunity to perform this piece at my church as a part of my pastor's sermon. I was so delighted to be able to share my story through music in this way.

People have asked me, "How do you learn a piece like that?" I learn it the same way I learn all my other pieces: Practice. And a lot of it. But learning this particular piece takes more than just practice. It tests your character and patience. It tests your will and beckons your breaking point. So how do I do it?

I refuse to quit. I love the piano too much to stop playing. And this love brings me back to my piano every single day. Even when the pain is too much. Even when the piece seems too difficult. When I was diagnosed with lupus, I made a decision right then and there to not choose easy and to choose life. And everyday, I have to make this choice all over again: Do I want easy or do I want to live? Everyday, I force myself out of bed and choose a path that is hard so I can have life. But that is only part of the story.

I don't want you to think that I am really strong and courageous. I'm not that strong. I'm not that courageous. I wake up every morning feeling weak. And I have very real doubts and fears. I am every bit as human as you are. My aching joints and tired body don't let me forget it. So I hold onto God with all that I am. When I feel like I just can't keep going, He reminds me that He has brought me this far and isn't about to let me go. When I feel like I can't make it, He reminds me that He made me and His plan for me didn't end when the doctor told me I have lupus. And when I look into the unknown that lies ahead, I hold onto Him - a God who is bigger and stronger than me - and I trust Him with my life and my destiny. He makes things possible in the midst of my impossible situations. He takes my mess and makes something beautiful. He brings light to my dark places. And He holds me together when I am falling apart.

I will hold onto Him even when my hands are too broken to play and my breath is almost run out. And as I continue to hold on, I know that He will continue to hold me, too.

My Week: A Poetic Summary

Too much too much
too much that
and too much
another that
then there
then more
then this
then that
and what
and oh I forgot
and but then another
and did you hear about
and then more more more
and it keeps going until I feel like I'm going mad
and I just want to get my head above the water so I can breathe
and then comes Saturday.

Selah.

A Happy Book for Crappy Days

Some moments in life are horrible, discouraging, draining. Some days (or seasons) are full of them. They leave you wondering about your life and doubting yourself. Some leave you reeling in pain, overwhelmed by a flood of emotions too deep for words. Some days, you need to remember that not all days are like that. Some days are amazing. So amazing you never want them to end. Full of uncontrollable laughter, beautiful memories you never want to forget, moments you wish could never end.

And that's why I made My Happy Book of Happy Things for Crappy Days. Long name, I know. So I refer to it as My Happy Book. It's a sort of scrapbook-in-progress where I stuff wonderful little things: meaningful cards and notes from people, inspiring quotations, and tiny trinkets from special moments in my life. It reminds me of what I have accomplished and what I can accomplish. It reminds me that there are people in my life that love me. It reminds me that no matter how hard a season is, life is still good.

In many ways, I am presently in a period of waiting. I have experienced frustration, discouragement, self-doubt, pain, and I have told my husband "I quit" more times than I can count. (I never really quit, though. Something about saying it helps satisfy my frustration for a brief moment and then I go right back to not quitting.) But several weeks ago, as I was looking through some old emails to try to find a document, I stumbled on a beautiful email someone special wrote to me before I moved back to the States after living in the Philippines for a couple years. She wrote about so many beautiful memories and told me how my life and work there made an impact. She wrote about her prayers for my future. It has been almost five years since that email was written. And as I read it in my house in America, I cried so many tears. Tears of remembering so many good things. Of remembering who I was who I am. Of remembering where I am headed. Of remembering that this season will pass and another season of adventure awaits. I think I'm going to print this email and put it in My Happy Book. I'm sure another day will come when I will need to read it again.

If you are having a "crappy day" and need some encouragement, maybe this will help: A Word (not mine) Of Encouragement.

Exhausted Body, Happy Heart: Traveling with Lupus

I went on an amazing week-long vacation to DC earlier this month. My mind is still on a high from wandering all over my favorite city. I love being on vacation. I love going to museums, hiking in new places, and exploring through quirky shops. My body, however, does not. When I go on vacation, my body thinks I'm being tortured as it has to work harder to try to keep up with all of my adventures. At the end of each day (and the next morning...), my body is screaming with arthritis and fatigue (and a little bit of nausea). And halfway through my vacation in DC, I was already exhausted.

It's not an option to have a vacation from lupus, but it is very possible to have a great vacation with lupus. Here are some ways to keep lupus from spoiling your summertime vacation:

1) Rest before you go. This takes a lot of careful planning and forethought. If you wear yourself out tying up loose ends at work and running a dozen errands to get ready to go on vacation, you won't have much left when you actually get there.

2) Take breaks. Many of them! Sit every chance you get. Benches at parks and museums. Coffee shops. Anywhere! And while you're sitting there, take advantage of the opportunity to soak in your surroundings.

3) Drink a lot of water. Staying hydrated is a great way to give you energy and help keep your body from breaking down.

4) Wear sweat-wicking, sun-protective clothing and stay in the shade every chance you get. This will keep you cool and give you extra protection if you are photosensitive.

5) If you're with someone, let them help you. Most of the time, I don't ask for help because I don't want to be a burden. But I've come to realize that my husband (my partner in world exploration) would much rather help me than see me struggle. While we were in DC, he did a lot of little things like opening water bottles for me and holding my hand (pulling me along) when we were walking uphill. It's also important to make sure you communicate when you are getting tired or need something. They can't help you if they don't know.

6) Don't forget to take your meds! If I miss just one dose of my meds, I get fatigued and nauseated very fast and it takes me days to recover. Being in a new place can throw off your routine, but make sure you don't forget the basics. (Set an alarm on your phone if you have to.)

7) Eat nutritious foods and stay away from trigger foods. Everybody wants to eat exciting food when they're on vacation. But make sure to be smart about it. Nitpicking about every ingredient might not be an option, but you can choose to avoid/minimize the "bad" stuff and eat things that help make you feel better.

8) When you have the choice, always pick the easier option. Elevator or stairs? Elevator! Walk or ride the Metro? Metro! Do anything you can to conserve your strength so you can use it when it really counts.

9) When your body is wearing down, don't force yourself to keep going. If you need to go back to your hotel and call it a night earlier than you were planning, do it. Resting so you have energy for the next day is always a better option than having to spend an entire day in bed.

10) Don't get emotional about any adjustments you have to make because of lupus. It is what it is. You don't have to let guilt, shame, or self-pity be a part of your vacation. Be thankful for this amazing opportunity you have.

11) Give your body time to recover when you get back. Don't expect your body to be able to dive full force into work, household chores, daily routines the moment you return home. Your body (and mind) may be a bit slower and require a little time to get readjusted.

Do whatever you need to do to stay healthy and  to keep your body from shutting down. And don't forget to enjoy every good moment! Life with lupus is definitely hard. But, having lupus does not mean you can't live to the fullest. You can still have a full life. Life with lupus just means you have to live in a different way.

A Moment in a Museum

I'm in Washington, DC for the week and I am so ridiculously happy. I love this place. My husband and I lived here for a couple years early in our marriage and we love to dream about coming back. So anytime we get a chance to visit, we are are like two kids in Disneyworld. Disneyworld, except with museums instead of rides and monuments instead of people dressed up as Disney characters.

I spent today exhausting myself at the National Portrait Gallery. Every time I visit, they have new temporary exhibits, so every time I come back it's a new experience. Today, I was captivated by one temporary exhibit featuring the photography of Yousuf Karsh. (I thought of trying to write a fancy description of Karsh and his work, but then felt completely inadequate. So if you're truly interested...Google it.) One particular photograph mesmerized me: an image of Aaron Copland. Copland was an important American composer who fascinated me from an early age. I remember hearing one of his pieces, Cat and Mouse, at a piano competition and then begging my piano teacher to let me play it. I remember being moved as I heard my professor give a lecture on his life while I was in grad school. And then, here I was with this photograph in front of me. Copland seated at a grand piano with one of his manuscripts and his eyes staring at piercing the camera.

I felt like he was looking directly at me. It was as though this photograph was a bridge between times and I was given the opportunity to spend a moment with Copland himself. Standing in front of his picture, I was transfixed. I didn't want to leave that spot. I fell in love with that portrait. I wanted to take a picture of it on my phone, but signs clearly indicated that no photos are allowed for this exhibit (and they had plenty of guards around to make sure no rules would be broken). So I stood there, staring. I soon became very aware of the crowds of people around me, squeezing in to see this picture of a man they probably knew nothing about. My hypersensitivity won out and I sadly walked away.

The gift shop was just steps away, so I went in with hopes of finding a postcard with an image of my new favorite piece of art. Nothing. I so wanted to be able to look at that picture again and again, whenever and wherever I want. But some things are meant for just a moment.

I returned to that spot three times, trying desperately to ingrain the image into my mind. But even now, mere hours later, I find that beautiful image slipping away. And I will probably never be able to see it again. And even if I do, I will never be able to relive the experience of seeing that work for the first time. That moment is gone forever. 

I have many moments I wish could never end. These are the special moments that make me want to keep living. They are beautiful, precious, inspiring. And they get overshadowed by a myriad of moments that are hard, painful, or mundane.

I am a pianist. It's not a hobby. It's my profession passion. I love my work art. I also have lupus. There are days when it is physically impossible to practice. There are other days when I come home from a day of rehearsing in tears from the pain and exhaustion. I go into every performance with the knowledge that it could be my last. This is a hard way to live. But I love it. I love it because I love all the moments. I don't let them slip away unnoticed. I let them mean something. I live them - truly live them. All of them.

Principles for Life's Many Pieces

This is a follow-up to a little piece I wrote last week about how I arrange the pieces of my life with lupus. (You can read it here.) I am full of dreams and a purpose to wake up every morning. Lupus didn't change that. But lupus did make my life harder. I can't leave anything to chance. I have to live on purpose. From the moment I wake up, I have to live intentionally and use whatever strength and time I have wisely. So what does living on purpose look like?

Pick a system that works best for you...
...not necessarily what works best for someone else. People use to make fun of me. Ok, they still do. Especially since I'm a pen and paper person. Not a calendar-on-my-smartphone person. Whenever I pull out my planner, people say things like, "I can't believe you have an old school calendar with paper! You're so behind!" But I'm not. When I have a task to accomplish (or two or a few dozen), I stay ahead and rarely get behind. And even when I get behind, I know exactly what I need to do to get back on track. The people in my life know they can always depend on me no matter what life brings my way. It works for me and it works for the people who depend on me. And when life changes, my system changes. Do what works for you. It's your life. You're the one who has to manage it.

Be realistic about goals and deadlines. 
Give yourself deadlines. It can be really hard to motivate yourself to get something done if you don't have a deadline. As much as possible, create weekly deadlines, not daily deadlines. You never know what kind of emergency a day will hold, so weekly deadlines allow for some margin in life. Just make sure to not procrastinate until the end of the week! This brings me to my next point...

Don't assume you will have time to complete something "later."
Don't procrastinate because "later" may not come. If you have time and energy to do it now, do it now. I recently had a flare because I forgot to take my meds. It's rare that I forget, but it happens. The good thing is that I didn't have anything pressing because I was diligent to work hard in the beginning of my week. So when the flare came, I had the freedom to spend a day on the couch. If I had procrastinated, I would have had to choose between neglecting my business and getting the rest I need or taking care of my business and hurting my body. Because I didn't procrastinate, that is not a choice I needed to make and I was even able to participate in a couple of social events over the weekend.

Note: If you don't have time to complete what you wanted when you wanted, don't just put it off for an unspecified "later"  or beat yourself up with guilt. Neither of those options is productive. Instead, get proactive AND give yourself grace. Make the adjustments necessary to get it done. Readjust and figure out when you can do it.

Prioritize what is important. 
When I'm having a lupus flare, sometimes dishes and laundry need to take a back seat to family time. Sometimes one project must give way for another project. Sometimes one dream must temporarily give way for a bigger dream. When I'm so sick and in need of some extra rest, I can often talk to my boss and ask, "What do you need me here for the most? What can I miss without causing the group to suffer?" When I ask questions like this, my superiors have the assurance that I won't drop the ball on what needs to happen, and I have the assurance that I am not putting my well-being on the line for my job.

Plan for imperfection, flares, rough days, emergencies, etc.
If you plan for a life that is always smooth, always perfect, always easy, then you are planning for something that isn't real and setting yourself up for discouragement. Life is messy and unpredictable. Expect it to be.

Create momentum.
When you feel overwhelmed, start with small tasks to get a feeling of accomplishment and create momentum. Some people like the opposite method: Complete the largest tasks first so the remaining tasks seem less daunting. Either way, start with something and shrink your to-do list.

Pray. 
People tell me that I am so strong and full of energy. I'm not. Lupus makes me weak. Very weak. I feel like a walking billboard for the passage in the Bible where God said, "My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness," and the apostle Paul said, "For when I am weak, then I am strong," (2 Corinthians 12:9-10). So when my body hurts so much that I don't see how I can possibly get out of bed, I pray. When I am overwhelmed with a to-do list that is ever growing or a task that is way bigger than me, I pray. When I am terrified that I may fail (or feel like I am in the midst of failing), I pray. When I am overwhelmed and feel like I am drowning, I pray. And I have never regretted a single prayer. This can seem like it's too simplistic, like a waste of time, even completely unrelated. But for me, prayer is the most important thing I can do all day. So what kind of things can you pray for? Pray for God to lead your steps, even when the way seems dark. Pray for God to help you be productive and efficient as you begin each task. Pray for the ability to accomplish what needs to be done. Pray for strength, for resources, for joy.

These are practices and principles I chose to live by even before I had lupus. And honestly, I don't think it would be possible for me to accomplish anything today if I didn't choose to live this way. It's not something I decided on a whim and mastered in a day. It was a long process that took years. And I'm still learning and messing up. But I'm a lot farther along than when I started. So I would encourage you to start the process of arranging the pieces of your life. You'll have days that feel like wins and days that feel like failures. But don't give up. You have one life. Live it on purpose.

Arranging the Pieces of My Life...with Lupus

Living a full life is hard work. Living a full life with a chronic illness is harder work. At any moment, I can have a flare and my body (and mind) can shut down. For the past couple of years, I've worked two to three jobs at a time...while sharing a car with my husband in a town where public transportation is not practical. And lupus adds a special sprinkling downpour of complicated to my life. I love what I do. My body doesn't. When I make a commitment, I don't know what kind of obstacles or surprises I will have. And I always have them. Last fall, I had surgery. In the spring, I got very sick (being surrounded by high schoolers does not bode well when you're taking immunosuppresives during flu season). So how do I stay on top of my life when so many people are depending on me but my body is so unpredictable?

I am a time organizing queen. That's right. I'm a queen. Or maybe not. I forget.

I organize like crazy. I view every item on my to-do list, every responsibility, and every appointment as a puzzle piece. My life has a lot of pieces. Too many pieces. And the pieces don't arrange themselves. They must be arranged deliberately. So how can you arrange the pieces of your life? Here's how to start:

Before the week begins, decide and write down what you want to accomplish by the end of the week. This means you have to know what your priorities are and what's most important to you. If you aren't sure, there are a lot of wonderful resources out there. Maybe I can blog about it. But that's not on my list of priorities this week, so I'll save it for another time. (See what I did there?)

Next, using your planner/calendar, decide when the best times to accomplish those tasks are. If you're doing this on paper, use pencil because you may have to rearrange later. Feel free to rearrange as the week progresses. Some days and weeks are harder than others, so give yourself a lot of grace. If you have to rearrange again and again because your body is struggling or life got complicated, that's ok. You'll probably still accomplish more than if you didn't plan at all. Something is better far better than nothing!

When possible, try to group "puzzle pieces" according to categories for productivity. If you have multiple tasks that require you to drive to a certain part of town, plan to do those things in one day so that you're not making multiple trips. If you have multiple tasks that require use of your computer, try to accomplish as many of those tasks as possible in one sitting. When you have limited time and energy, the key is to figure out a way to work as efficiently as possible. 

Don't evenly distribute tasks throughout the week. Put a heavier load in the beginning of the week so that you have more room to work with later when unexpected things come up throughout the week. Procrastination is one of my worst enemies. If something is truly important to me, procrastination can steal it from me. So I don't usually push things back unless I have a really good reason like I'm in the hospital or my arms won't move. It happens. It happened.

Leave time later on for make up work. If that time ends up being open, you can get extra rest (Yay!) or get ahead on work for the next week.

Don't budget time minute-by-minute. 
Budget time according to segments in the day.
     Examples:
     morning, afternoon, evening
     before classes, after classes, after work
This is for tasks (such as doing the dishes or working on a project), not appointments or events (which have a set start time or schedule). I used to organize my time minute-by-minute, but it was impossible to maintain, the rigidity made me feel pressured, and I ended each day feeling inadequate. On the other hand, when I think in terms of segments in the day, it's easier for me to wrap my head around all that needs to be done and I can be more flexible for whatever life may throw at me.

Budget time for rest. You will be more productive, efficient, and creative when you are well-rested. I know my body well enough to know that when I fill up an entire week with activity, I will be unable to work the next. So I actually write "Rest" in my calendar. Each week, I make sure I have at least one chunk of time dedicated to rest. And if someone asks me to do something during that time, I say, "I'm sorry. This is the only time this week I can rest. And if I don't, I won't be able to work next week. Is there another time or day that will work?" You don't even have to tell people that you're resting. You can simply say, "I already have something scheduled at that time."

May all your puzzle pieces fit a little better and may your life be a little fuller!

A Simple, Quiet Space: Epilogue

Ever since my amazing journey at the monastery (you can read about it here, here, and here), life looks very much like it did before. I still teach and practice piano. While school is out, I'm working on projects and slowly organizing the house we moved into last year. I still spend more time than I like each week organizing all the pills I take for lupus (up to 16 a day). I still lug around a ginormous bag filled with too many books everywhere I go and watch TV with my husband in the evenings.

Same old, same old. But not quite. My days are nuanced in ways they weren't before. And one small change in particular went a long way.

The day I returned from the monastery, I traded my iPhone for an alarm clock. Well, not entirely. I still have an iPhone. But instead of using my phone as my wake-up alarm, I use a tiny alarm clock to wake myself up in the mornings. It cost $5 and is so small it doesn't even have a radio. And where is my phone? Charging in the living room. It's not allowed in my bedroom at night. This one small change led to thousands more. My phone (e-mail, text messages, FaceBook, Twitter, Pinterest, Instagram...) is no longer the first thing I see when I wake up and the last thing I see before I sleep. On my night stand, I have a Bible, The Book of Common Prayer, and a devotional. In the mornings, when I feel lupus the strongest and my body is too stiff to get up, these are the things I grab first. Though my first thoughts range from "Where's my iPhone?" to "I need to brush my teeth," and to "My body hurts and I have too much to do today,"...my first action is to surrender all of these things to God and pursue what matters most. Each morning, my mind races in a million different directions. And each morning, I will my mind to turn to God.

It hasn't been easy. I am breaking habits that are deeply imbedded into my being and starting new habits that the enemy of my soul doesn't want me to have. At first, everything else on my mind felt so urgent and loud (almost yelling). The high-pitched beep beep beep of the alarm clock made me and my husband grumpy. It felt awkward turning to God when my mind was so hazy and I hadn't brushed my teeth yet. But I chose to stubbornly pursue what matters most. Each morning, all the "other stuff" in my mind yells a little softer than it did the day before. My husband and I are getting used to the morning beeps. And I've come to accept that God loves me so much that He will take me just as I am--morning breath and all.

I don't feel like I'm moving mountains in my new morning routine. (Maybe I am and I just don't know it yet.) I haven't had any moments that were full of intense emotion and prophetic words from God. But I'm less frantic now. My day is filled with a calm I didn't have before. Things that would have caused me anxiety don't have that power over me anymore. I loved my work before, but now I enjoy it even more and have a stronger sense of purpose when I do it. My husband and I argue less and talk more about meaningful things. (And now that I just typed this, we're probably going to have an argument about something ridiculous tonight. Just kidding. I hope I'm just kidding.) I feel safer letting God search the little crevices of my heart and fill me with dreams so big they scare me. And instead of feeling shame because I'm not where I thought I would be by this time in my life, I see the significance of what I'm accomplishing now and feel like I'm on the verge of something wonderful.

So this is my life. One small, five-dollar change. I have all summer to make it stick before I go back to working three jobs in the fall. And who knows what kind of stories are waiting for me ahead...

A Simple, Quiet Space: Day Three

[This is the conclusion to my last couple of posts. What follows are journal excerpts from my third day on a spiritual retreat at a monastery. You can learn more and read my journal excerpts from the first two days here and here.] 

Today's Agenda:
   1. Pray and reflect.
   2. Book of Common Prayer devotions before breakfast and lunch.
   3. Read the Bible (Isaiah 43).
   4. Look over Anything.
   5. Spend time outside.

8:21 am.
I feel the world pulling me again to rush. When I woke up this morning, the first thing I did was to shower and prepare for the day, I did not turn to God first. That was a mistake. But I turn to Him now and I still have several hours before we leave this place.

9:17 am.
Like manna, no matter how much I pour myself in God's presence and God pours in me, the next day I must do it all again.

9:46 am.
Yesterday, I feared that I would forget. I will. I will forget again and again. I will keep forgetting because that is what we do on this side of Heaven. There is no shame in that. One day I will stop forgetting because the sight of His face won't let me forget. Until then, I need to keep returning to the simple, quiet places so I can remember again.

11:07 am.
I am thankful for this place. A sacred place full of quiet and full of lessons. A place where it is easy to find the presence of God. A place that gently forces you to experience God's goodness. A place that makes you better because it makes God bigger. A place that makes you homesick for Heaven.

12:30 pm.
During lunch we met a man who just arrived here this morning. He asked us questions about what we do here, how this place works, whether we ever talked to the monks. His wife passed away last fall and he came here for whatever this place can offer him. His journey here is just beginning. My heart is so broken for him. God, please work miracles in his life while he is here. Let him find healing, comfort, peace, direction. Touch the places in his heart that are hurting, that are searching for answers. Let him leave this place full of strength and joy. Do for him what only You can do. Thank You for bringing him here. And thank You for making him part of my journey here. Amen.

12:45 pm.
Lord, I am ready for the world now. Please go with me. Amen.

A Simple, Quiet Space: Day Two

[This is a continuation from my last post. What follows are journal excerpts from my second day on a spiritual retreat at a monastery. You can learn more and read my journal excerpts from day one here.]

Today's Agenda:
   1. Ask God dangerous questions.
   2. Book of Common Prayer Daily Devotions (breakfast, lunch, dinner, end of day).
   3. Read the Bible.
   4. Read Anything.

7:26 am.
Simplify. This word has been stuck in my head for many weeks (months?). This morning, I felt led to do it. I simplified my agenda - both from what I expected of myself to accomplish here before I came and from what I scribbled in a tiny notepad last night. But I won't get as much done...on paper. Maybe God will be able to accomplish much more in me. This practical call to simplify goes beyond my time here. This morning, even before breakfast, I wrote another note in my tiny notebook. I will give God the 2 days after I return home in which I will read nothing except His Word. I will not completely return yet because God will not be finished speaking to me when I leave this place. I am walking into the mystery. I am becoming the person God made me to be.

8:08 am.
The drive for productivity is not equivalent to obedience to God moment by moment. With lupus, there are so many times when my body doesn't allow me to get things done (I feel unproductive), so when I am feeling well (or at least better than not well) I try to compensate by being extremely productive. I daily judge myself based on my productivity. How productive am I being today? This is not the path God wants for me (us) to take. I should daily judge myself based on my obedience to God. Have I taken the time to hear God's voice and have I completely walked in obedience to Him? It isn't that God doesn't want me to be productive. He does. But His call is for obedience. And when I am completely obedient to Him, then I am the most productive for His Kingdom.

8:58 am.
There is a freedom in solitude and simplicity. Here, I can be free from the chains of want, of noise, of wastefulness, of comparison, of busy-ness. I can focus on God untethered here. How can I take this freedom with me when I reenter society?

9:10 am.
...and complaining. This place is free of complaining. I am content here. Content and thankful.

9:49 am.
Anything...

...God, is there anything You want me to give up or anything You want me to start doing?...

...God, I will do anything. I will...[This is one of those places where the words are between me and God and NOT me, God, and the internet]
...I will stop giving You snippets of my day and start spending extravagant time with You.

10:51 am.
I am realizing that in this place, God isn't trying to tell me to "do something." He is completely changing me. When I return home, I won't just be someone with a task from God. I will be a different person.

11:16 am.
Anything...Live for God's glory:
   - Blog for God's glory.
   - Pray for my husband for God's glory.
   - Play piano for God's glory.
   - Teach for God's glory.
   - Clean for God's glory?
   - Love people (and show them love) for God's glory.

[This prayer and commitment to do anything got very real. Very painful. Very difficult. A lot of tears. A lot of words that will stay in my journal.]

1:16 pm.
I choose to live for things I cannot see yet.
I don't want to miss anything God has for me.

2:15 pm.
Dangerous question: God, where do You want to take my plenty and pour it out? I will do anything.

6:20 pm.
In this simple quiet place, I can hear from God and experience rest...I am not perfect here, but I am closer to God. I want to bring this with me. To have moments--no matter where I am--when I can enter this simple, quiet place where I can encounter the glory of God. A different reality. A more real reality.

7:40 pm.
The sun is starting to set, the bell for the compline just rang, and I am feeling sad that this is my last night here. My heart is not ready to go back. I don't want to lose what I have here. I'm scared I will go back and forget. God, please don't let me forget! Please don't let me go back. Please make this change stick. Please work a miracle! Please don't let me go back to my old ways. Please make me different. Completely different from the inside out. Full of Your glory. Full of Your power. Full of You. Take my fear. Take my mess. Take my inadequacies. Take all of me and turn me into something new. Something beautiful. Something that radiates your glory.
          selah.
                       Amen.

8:08 pm.
Oh, the transformation--the journey--from yesterday to today! I came empty. Now I am full to overflowing. I came wanting to quit everything. ("I quit" became my motto the last few months.) Now I feel like I'm about to embark on an adventure into the unknown. I came feeling spent. Now I feel ready to give again. This is the reward for spending extravagant time with God. When you give extravagantly to God (however meager that is), He will give extravagantly to you (How limitless that is!).