According to dictionary.com, to be plagued is to be “troubled, annoyed, or tormented in any manner.”  Yep.  My family is plagued with illness at the moment.  Five out of the six of us have been to the doctor in the past two days.  Four different doctors have diagnosed us with “a virus” and told us to just treat the symptoms and wait it out.  Fun!  I’m so thankful I got out of bed and put on real clothes to go have someone tell me to just “wait it out.”  Because I refuse to see my glass as half empty I have been trying really hard to find some humor in the middle of our misery.  I haven’t had much success in finding humor, but I have noted a few interestingly bizarre and pretty gross occurrences…..

After almost two weeks of a fever, coughing, and blowing gallons of green snot from her nose, Sofija broke out in a rash on Valentine’s Day. It’s one of those bizarre viral rashes that comes and goes in different places all over her body.  She’s been absolutely miserable. 

True confession:  I’m not too heartbroken over her being so sick.  She has asked us to hold her and cuddle her and kiss her and hug her more in the last two weeks than she has in the last two years.  Which leads to interesting  occurrence number two….

To our knowledge, Sofija has never thrown up in her entire life.  Anyone who has known our family for any length of time knows that we consider it a true gift from God to have a child who isn’t a puker.  We are a puking family.  When my big kids were little I washed bedding every single day.  A lioness typically awakes each morning and heads out to hunt for food.  This lioness spent many years going on a morning hunt for partially digested food spread out in someone’s bed.

Yesterday, Sofija joined our club.  She climbed in her Tata’s lap and asked him to tickle her back.  And then… she opened her mouth and spewed all over him.  She then proceeded to totally freak out.  My poor baby had no clue what was happening.  To make matters worse, in an attempt to teach her how it’s done, Chad carried her to the bathroom and told her to throw up in the toilet.  Once again, she freaked out.  “Don’t throw Sofija in the toilet!”  “I don’t want to go in the toilet!”  And today, every time she coughs, she starts crying and says, “Please don’t put Sofija in the toilet!” Baby girl, don’t worry.  Nobody is going to put you in the toilet.  And since you just don’t understand how it’s supposed to be done, you can just keep puking on your Tata as you see fit. 😉

Interesting occurrence number three is really a small victory.  Remember the warts on Seth’s feet?  Well, they haven’t gone anywhere.  We have attempted to freeze them off five times, applied duct tape, soaked them in near-boiling water, covered them with various cooking oils, and painted them with nail polish.  He has been incredibly brave through all of our home-remedy torture.  The patch of warts in this picture haven’t really been a concern to us.  They appear to be shrinking and we’ve just gone with the doctor’s assurance that (even it takes a year or two) they will eventually go away on their own.  On his other foot, he has a HUGE plantars wart in the middle of his arch.  All of our efforts to get rid of it seem to have actually made it worse.  The thing is like an alien life-form.  It just keeps getting bigger and uglier and judging by the many shades of red it’s taken on in the last few days, I’m pretty sure it’s pissed at us for trying to destroy it.  So today, we broke up the monotony of being told to “just wait it out” with a look at the foot monsters.  Since dear hubby is a soldier, we receive medical care at a military treatment facility  This means we often deal with the frustration of getting to know a completely different doctor every time we need to be seen.  Today we got a different doctor.  But…Today was not one of those frustrating moments.  Today, my baby boy got to see a different pediatrician from the one who told us to just use duct tape and soak his feet in hot water.  Today, he got to see a kind lady who had compassion for the fact that a stimmer does not need the additional stimulation of constant pain in the arch of his foot.  Next week we see a dermatologist.  Small victory, but we’ll take it.

Occurrence number four is one that I’m sure I will laugh about some day.  Just not today.

When illness shows up in our house, I have a tendency to get a little crazy.  Okay, on a normal day I’m a little crazy.  When illness shows up, my kids and dear hubby would probably say I’m totally neurotic.  As evidence of my neurosis, I have a recycle bin that is overflowing with empty Clorox wipes containers.  Despite the fact that winter never showed up in DC this year, everyone in our house has hands that look like we live in the Canadian rocky mountains due to my insistence that hands must be washed every hour.  Me and Howie Mandel could hang out. (All of my international friends, Howie Mandel is an American game-show host who is famous for being a germaphobe)  Of course there would be no handshaking or hugging involved, but we could stand on opposite sides of the same room and totally understand each other.  My dear hubby may not understand or even sympathize with my germaphobe neurosis, but because he loves me, he plays along.  On Valentines Day he went out for cough syrup, a new air filter, and more Clorox wipes.  He came home with everything on the list AND four boxes of Anti-Viral Kleenex.  That man totally speaks my love language.

Since everyone is still coughing and snotting and running fevers, I decided that we needed to take additional measures to sanitize the house.  “Wait it out” could have many interpretations.  Right?  Some action on my part must be required in the waiting.  So, I made a stop on my way home from the doctor just to buy new anti-allergen mattress and pillow covers.  Since I had to get out of bed and get dressed anyway, it only made sense that I seize the opportunity to make my bed a little healthier before climbing back into it. Who knows?  Maybe the plague bugs are living in our pillows and just keep reinfecting us night after night. So anyway, I got home with my new germ-buster pillow and mattress covers and placed them on the kitchen counter with all intentions of putting them to good use after once again wiping down the doorknobs and switch-plates and eating dinner.  And then, just before I tossed a germ-infected wipe in the kitchen trash, guess what I discovered.  One of my precious new pillow covers was not only out of its package, it was wadded up in the trash.  I removed it from the trashcan, stretched it out, and gagged.  Add another 1/4 cup of snot to the gallon my baby girl has blown out in the last two weeks.  Me~ “Sofija, did you blow your nose on my new pillow cover.”  Sofija proudly replied, “Yes, Mama!”  Looks like I’m getting dressed and going to the store again tomorrow.  Maybe I should grab new toothbrushes for the entire family while I’m out.  And, since I don’t have a germ-proof pillow to lay my head on tonight, I think I’ll write Isaiah 40:31 on several index cards and post it all over my house.  After all, if I have to wait for something, it might as well be the Lord.

Yet, the strength of those who wait with hope in the Lord
      will be renewed.
         They will soar on wings like eagles.
            They will run and won’t become weary.
            They will walk and won’t grow tired.

Thirteen or fourteen years ago, while sitting in a military clinic awaiting a mole removal, I overheard my doctor reminding her nurse that she had to go get her ‘plague 2’ shot as soon as she was done seeing patients.  As she put a scalpel to my back I asked her, “What exactly is plague 2?”  Her response, “I don’t really know.  The Army just requires me to get vaccinated against it.”  That’s a quote from a doctor, folks.  Whatever plague 2 is, my husband (and every other American soldier) has been vaccinated against it numerous times throughout his 22+ years in the Army.

I can’t say if plague 2 is similar to the plague described in all those classic novels or if it’s a little more like the Ebola virus.  What I do know is that its close cousin has taken up residence in our house for the last two weeks.  While our unwelcome house-guest has made itself at home, I have composed at least half a dozen blogposts in my head.  Seeing how it’s taken every last ounce of energy for me to occasionally hit the like button on Facebook, those blogposts are still swirling around in my head.  Hopefully I’ll find the time, energy, and motivation to write more in the next few days.  In the meantime, I wanted to share a great post that I read today over at Raising Homemakers.  Kelly did an excellent job of summing up all the important stuff we wish somebody had told us about marriage in a letter to her children.  Enjoy!

Many years ago I found myself struggling with thoughts and memories that led to pain and anger.  At the time, I had a newborn baby and my husband was away doing military training.  There was no time to sit and have a pity party.  So, I bought a notebook and starting writing down all the junk in my head.  Most of what I wrote would not have made sense to anyone trying to read it.  I don’t think I used punctuation or capitalization and when the really painful things came to my mind, I often just scribbled so hard that I tore the paper. Over the course of two weeks, I filled two notebooks.  When I was done, I tore the pages out, one by one, and burned them in our fireplace.  The catharsis of that moment cannot be described with words.

In the years since, I have advised countless people to do the same.  Getting the junk out of your head has been the Kaci cure-all prescription.  The disclaimer on the prescription was to describe just how important it was to try the write-burn process before verbalizing any destructive or painful thoughts. Proverbs 18:21 is pretty clear about the power of our words.  They can bring life and they can bring death.  If you want to know more about the power of our words, click the link and read James 3:1-12.  When it comes to verbalizing the negative thoughts we have about other people, Miranda rights always apply……”Anything you say can and WILL be used against you…..”  But….what you scribble in a notebook and burn, is just between you and God.

Although the knowledge of the importance of purging destructive thoughts has been with me for ages, it has been a while since I’ve practiced what I preach.  Yesterday an issue came up between me and my dear hubby.  It was one of those issues where we have completely opposite opinions concerning a third party.  Our vast differences of opinions has challenged us to agree to disagree. Does anyone ever really master that?  If you have any suggestions on exactly how it’s done, please share.

After 24 hours of resisting the urge to defend my stance (for the umpteenth time), I pulled out a journal and started writing.  By the time I got to page three I realized that it was about time I took a dose of my own medicine.  The last twelve months have been about as close to hell as I care to get.  On more occasions than I care to count, I have had flashbacks to my high school ceramics class.  Our family has been placed in a kiln, endured ridiculously hot fire, taken out of the fire only long enough to cool down and have the next layer of glaze applied, and placed back in the kiln so we could endure the fire all over again. God has delivered on his promise from Isaiah 43:2, the flames have not consumed us.  Similar to the teacup I made in my ceramics class, each trip through the fire brought the impurities in our lives to the surface.  God has ripped away toxic relationships and stripped us of roles and titles that were not a part of our identity in Him.

Through our refining process I tried to document what was happening by blogging.  What I failed to do was purge my mind of all the junk.  While writing in my journal today, I discovered that the junk is in abundance.  I can’t say that the writing I’ve done so far has achieved any progress in the “agree to disagree” situation with my dear hubby (I do hope that someday I can learn to live out Matthew 5:43-44 the way that he does.), but I do already feel the kind of freedom that only comes when you consciously forgive someone.  And… I still have a lot of purging to do.  If you haven’t heard from me in two or three days, please check on me.

Note to self: It is not wise to spend a year walking in and out of a furnace without repeated doses of the Kaci cure-all.

Had to share this great post by my friend Lorraine (Chrissie’s Mom).  If the word “adoption” has ever crossed your mind, you should read it.  If it hasn’t, you should read James 1:27, think long and hard about your faith, and then read the post anyway.

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Remember the telephone game?  You whisper a sentence in someone’s ear and they whisper what they think they heard to the person next to them and everyone laughs at just how much the sentence has changed by the time it gets all the way around the room.

Every single day in our house, we play the game.

Prime example:  My instructions to Chase (my 14yo son), “Unload the dishwasher.  Tell Kira (my 17yo daughter) to load it and tell Seth (my 11yo stimmer) to put away the leftovers.”  Simple commands, right?  How hard could it be to remember the ONE thing he has to do and pass along two simple instructions to his siblings.  Half an hour later I walk through the kitchen and find the leftovers on the stove and the sink is piled high with dirty dishes.  I ask Seth why he didn’t put them away and he replies, “Chase told me to tell Kira to put them away.”  I march to Kira’s room and ask her why she didn’t load the dishwasher.  She replies, “Seth told me to UNLOAD the dishwasher.  Somebody already did it and I needed to practice guitar.  Can you please close my door?”  Telephone game over…. let the blame-game commence.

Did you know that the “telephone game” is actually the Garden of Eden game?  God told Adam, “…You may freely eat the fruit of every tree in the garden— except the tree of the knowledge of good and evil. If you eat its fruit, you are sure to die.” Genesis 2:16-17  In chapter 3 the serpent and his sneaky self asks Eve about what God had said.  She replied, “God said, ‘You must not eat it or even TOUCH it; if you do, you will die.’”  You gotta hand it to Eve.  The bedazzler had yet to be invented and in her very first conversation with the outside world she still managed to add a little gemstone with that extra, “or even TOUCH it.” Feel free to insert your own jokes here on poor male communication and/or a woman’s gift to embellish the truth.

I have to confess.  I like a little embellishment.  Maybe it’s just the Eve in me, but I’m a sucker for a little fringe on a little throw pillow or a little mercury glass on a mantle.  Or better yet, dozens of translations of the Bible that when scoured give me just the meaning I’m searching for.  As I read through various translations of a certain passage and come across the one that says exactly what I was looking for, I am satisfied.  You know what, though?  That satisfaction has lost its sweetness.  The more time I spend reading the Bible and looking up Hebrew and Greek translations, the more clearly I see that the translations that bring me satisfaction are watered-down versions of what God actually intended. The many English translations of the Bible that we have available to us today are  part of a centuries long telephone game.

Anyone who knows me or has read my blog for any amount of time, knows that I am a HUGE fan of being planted in a church.  I believe that the picture of “the church” that Jesus lived out and that Paul painted for us in his various letters, is necessary for spiritual survival.  We all NEED to be living life with others who share our faith and who draw us closer to God.  That being said, I’m also a little skeptical of anyone who gets all of their “spiritual food” from their church.

My little scenario about the dishes is actually one that plays out in my house several times each week.  I know good and well that if I want Kira to load the dishwasher, the best way to make that happen is to go to her and ask her myself.  As a matter of fact, the only days that doing dishes doesn’t turn into a blame-game are the ones where my dear hubby or I communicate what we would like done directly to the person we would like to do it.

I do not have it all figured out and I am not fluent in Hebrew or Greek.  If you laid the Dead Sea Scrolls in front of me the only thing I could probably tell you about them is that they’re old.  However, I do know how to communicate with God.  I talk to Him and when I’m willing to listen He talks to me.  No matter how watered-down the translation may be, whenever I pray over an issue and ask Him for a biblical perspective, He always leads me to it.  When I ask for peace, He delivers it.  When I ask for clarity and closed doors, he slams them in my face and shows me loudly and clearly where to go and where not to go.  When I thank Him for the richness of my life, He somehow makes it just a little richer.

Here’s the deal.  He wants an intimate relationship with each and every one of us.  He has unconditional love for each and every one of us.  In my forty years of living, I’ve seen pastors fall and churches fall apart.  But you know something?  I’ve never seen God change.  His constant and unconditional mercy and love continually blow me away.

This morning, just as I finished thanking God for the fact that my relationship with him is not dependent on any other relationship, I read this:

Judges 18:24 “What do you mean, ‘What’s the matter?’” Micah replied. “You’ve taken away all the gods I have made, and my priest, and I have nothing left!”

I keep hoping that some day I will walk through the kitchen and be able to smile with pleasure over the fact that my kids have known what they needed to do and simply gotten busy doing it.  I pray for a week with no Garden of Eden or blame-games in my house.  As my Father, I think God wants the same from me.  What about you?  If all of the “gods” you’ve made and your “priest” were taken away, would you still have a relationship with your maker?  Would you know what He wants you to do?  Is He smiling now in pleasure over the fact that you’re actually doing what you were created for?  Or would you be like Micah…..

Do you remember the first R-rated movie you ever saw?  For me it was Endless Love.  I was eleven and I remember being highly disappointed.  What I really wanted to see was Animal House.  I had a great-aunt who said it was the “dirtiest” movie she’d ever seen.  As evidence that we are all born with a sinful nature, my curiosity was piqued the minute I heard her description.  By the time I did get around to seeing it, my sinful nature had skewed my definition of dirty and the only thing that really stood out was the music.  shama lama ding-dong

When I met my husband in February of 1989 he called me the “Shama Lama Ding Dong.”  He had me at Shama ;).

This week the word shama took on a new spelling and whole new meaning for me.  One of God’s Hebrew names is Jevohah-Shammah.  It is the name used at the end of Ezekial and it is the last new name given to God in the Old Testament.  Ezekial said that the city of Jerusalem would be called “Jehovah-Shammah”.  Meaning ~ The Lord is Present.

Much like a Stuart Smalley mantra, I’ve walked around saying it both out-loud and to myself.  “Jehovah-Shammah.”  “The Lord is Here!”  It’s a pretty powerful declaration to make.  Try it.

Yesterday I awoke at 5:30am to a fourteen year old boy standing in my doorway in a towel announcing that his shower would not turn off.  I thought my husband got up and took care of it. He didn’t. At 8am I woke again to an eleven year old boy announcing that his shower had been on all morning. As I walked through the kitchen towards his bathroom I paused and took note of the fact that my six-year-old has finally decided to color. Her first canvas? My kitchen table. Her medium of choice? An extra-wide black Sharpie. Happy. Happy. Joy. Joy.

Somewhere around 1pm we were able to get the cover off of the water main and shut the water off, and soon after a plumber arrived and replaced whatever needed replacing.  In between I spent three hours at the hospital being poked and prodded and learned that the padding that has grown on my hips and thighs is perfectly justifiable because my thyroid levels are nowhere close to what they should be.  You know that weight where your ‘fat-jeans’ are your only comfortable pants? Yea. I passed that weight about ten pounds ago. While I was at the hospital my dear hubby learned that whitening toothpaste and Lysol wipes will remove the majority of black sharpie from furniture (Sorry, Sofija.  We’ll memorialize your new talents on a proper canvas. I promise.)

In the middle of yesterday’s chaos, I found myself walking around my house, quietly declaring, “Lord, you are here.”  And occasionally singing out loud, “You’re my Shammah lama ding-dong….”

Now I just need Him to be present when the water bill arrives.

A.W. Tozer: “Among the gifts of the Spirit scarcely one is of greater practical usefulness than the gift of discernment. This gift should be highly valued and frankly sought as being almost indispensable in these critical times. This gift will enable us to distinguish the chaff from the wheat and to divide the manifestations of the flesh from the operations of the Spirit.”

My husband and I had a discussion a few days ago about our goals for 2012.  While things like “achieving a shape other than round” and “reading more” were mentioned in that conversation, our goals for the new year revolve more around the things we want to avoid.  I have spent this last day of 2011 sitting at home and reflecting on all the things I DO NOT want to repeat or carry with me into 2012.  My reflections have resulted in countless tears.

I am looking out an open window and enjoying the beautiful spring air.  Wait a minute!  It’s winter.  Yet, even with an open window and clear view of the weather outside, it seems like spring.  The high today was 62 degrees fahrenheit.  The disguise this winter day is wearing has fooled even the birds who have dined at my window feeder since the early morning.

In Aesop’s Fables, a wolf slips into a sheep’s skin and is able to fool the shepherd into believing that he is a member of the flock so that he can devour the sheep.  In Little Red Riding Hood, a wolf dresses like a little old lady in his attempt to eat a little girl.  In the Bible, we are warned about false prophets who are just ravenous wolves disguised as sheep.

No matter the reference point it, the big bad wolf is always the same character ~ Someone hiding malicious intent by displaying kindness, gentleness or the need to be cared for.

2011 has been filled with wolves.  I could write an entire book (and I probably will) about the humanitarian Ponzi scheme that costs us a good chunk of our savings.  Or the wounded person I encouraged for the majority of the year whose wounds weren’t exactly real.  Or the people my husband has encouraged for the past few years that have now made false allegations against him.

Guess what?  I’m thankful for the wolves.  The wolves have forced us to grow and become truly aware of all that God is doing around us and in us.  The wolves have taught us that discernment is a not just a word to be thrown around, but a gift that we are responsible to act on and that is necessary for survival.

A.W. Tozer: “The healthy soul, like the healthy blood system, has its proper proportion of white and red blood cells. The red corpuscles are like faith: they carry the life-giving oxygen to every part of the body. The white cells are like discernment: they pounce upon dead and toxic matter and carry it out to the drain. In the healthy heart there must be provision for keeping dead and poisonous matter out of the life stream.”

This statement was like a slap across the face for me.  It doesn’t matter how strong your faith is.  Without discernment, your spiritual-life will be filled with disease and poison.

So… in the middle of all the deception we’ve encountered,  we’ve learned to trust our discernment.  For those of you not clear on the experience of discernment, it’s your God-given intuition.  That sick feeling in your gut when something just isn’t right about a situation or a person.  It’s the voice in your head telling you to question what you’re being told or to dig a little deeper.  It’s the conclusion you come to after testing what you’ve been told against the Word of God.  It is wisdom.

My #1 goal for 2012: Let the discernment God has given both myself and my husband guide us and protect us from becoming ensnared in the types of trials we’ve endured in 2011.  #2: Achieve a shape other than round 🙂

While I do wish you a happy 2012, my heart’s desire is that anyone who reads this have a new year filled with wide open windows providing a beautiful view.  I pray that you have a year filled with peace and faith that is pure and holy.  I pray that you recognize every big bad wolf that should cross your path.  I pray that you find joy in all that you do.  And… I pray that you never stop thanking God for everything. Even the wolves.

1 Thessalonians 5:14-21  My friends, we beg you to warn anyone who isn’t living right. Encourage anyone who feels left out, help all who are weak, and be patient with everyone. Don’t be hateful to people, just because they are hateful to you. Rather, be good to each other and to everyone else.  Always be joyful and never stop praying. Whatever happens, keep thanking God because of Jesus Christ. This is what God wants you to do.  Don’t turn away God’s Spirit or ignore prophecies. Put everything to the test. Accept what is good and don’t have anything to do with evil.

If you’ve prayed with me at any point during the years since I was diagnosed with cancer you’ve probably heard me ask God to “not let it hurt too bad.”  We’re guaranteed to face trials and painful situations throughout the Bible…

James 1:2-4  Consider it pure joy, my brothers and sisters, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance.  Let perseverance finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything.

Notice it doesn’t say “IF you face trials of many kinds”.  Because of this guarantee, I try to always ask God to let my faith be tested and my perseverance developed without too much misery.

Seth has warts on his feet.  One of them is very big and painful and in the middle of his arch.  We went to the doctor a couple of months ago only to be told that we should either soak his foot in hot water several times a day for ten days or cover it with duct tape and wait for his body to have a negative reaction to the tape adhesive and attack the wart in the process.  Gee thanks, Doc. Have you ever tried to keep a piece of duct tape on the foot of an eleven year old boy?  Let me save you the trouble.  It just gets really stinky and he rips it off when it stops him from running/climbing/jumping etc..  Have you ever tried to make a stimmer stick their foot in “not-quite-scalding hot water”?  Let me save you the trouble on that one too.  They scream and call you names and tell you that “you’re crazy if you think you’re going to make them do it four more times that day, or any day for that matter”.

Doing what any good mother would do, I went out and bought a freeze-off kit and attempted to remove it the traditional way.  We made our first attempt about a month ago.  It didn’t go so well.  He screamed.  He cried.  He told me I was abusing him and then he closed himself in his room and said that I could not make it better.

Mom of the year goes to…….not me.

A few layers of the wart have peeled away, but it clearly needed another treatment.  Two nights ago, my dear husband decided it was time for the second treatment.  The tears and screaming began immediately upon the site of the freeze-off kit.  This time around I wrapped my arms around my baby boy and with my mouth pressed to his ear prayed, “Father, we thank you for providing us with a way to remove this painful wart from Seth’s foot.  In John 14:14 you said that we could ask anything in your name and it will be done.  So Father, in your name, we claim the healing that you’ve already promised and we ask that you block the pain and not let this healing process hurt. Amen.”

By the time we were done praying, my dear husband was done freezing the wart.  Guess what?  Seth didn’t feel a thing. 🙂  About an hour later he came to my room and said, “Hey, Mom.  I think we should always ask God to block the pain when He’s healing us.”

“You know what, Seth?   I think you’re right.”