I have thoroughly enjoyed connecting with you on this blog. As you may know, this blog is part of the Outlook Online blog network (formerly the Mid-America Union blog network). The network is updating to a newer, more streamlined structure (1 blog with multiple authors). I hope that you will join me in making this transition to my new blogging home at http://outlookmag.org (once there, simply hover over “Bloggers” in the main menu and click on my name to view my new posts). I will be leaving all of my old posts online as an archive if you still want to read what I have written in the past. Again, thank you for your support and I look forward to seeing you on my new blog soon!

But I can borrow yours for now

I may not have joy today

But your laughter is contagious

I may have lost faith today

But your faith can bring my healing

I may not have love for anyone around me

But Your Love covers all 

~  Janel R. Brasuell

I have been paralyzed emotionally since Nathan’s birth over a year ago.  Postpartum depression is very real.  As I begin to creep out from behind the shadows I have an intense desire to share this painful part of my journey with you.  Perhaps someone you know, even yourself, will benefit.  That’s my prayer. 

In mid-December I posted a most significant Facebook status:  “I am finally emerging into sunshine from the longest winter ever.”  In reality, winter had just begun here, but in my heart spring had finally sprung.  Never in my life have I gone through four seasons of winter.  Even this summer, as hot as it was at times, I was isolated inside myself.  Sometimes I was cooped up in the house with A/C because it was too hot for the kids to be out, or was it because I was too paralyzed to make the effort?  All summer felt like winter.  This whole year has felt like winter.

I like winter, don’t get me wrong, but enough’s enough!  Now, I’m emerging into “spring” all the while surrounded with the effects of the latest snowy blast on our nation.

Usually I am full of hope, not despair.  Usually my joy bubbles over as I find meaning in the little things in life.  Usually I can function to some degree above vegetative plodding.  But I’ve been in survival mode.  Hormones have wreaked havoc in my body and mind and taken me hostage.  Feelings and thoughts jumble and spiral downward.  The heaviest weight presses on my shoulders and chest, keeping me paralyzed and helpless.  Helplessness leads to hopelessness.  Immobility leads to further anxiety and self-doubt.  Parenting is a chore with sparkles of joy scattered here and there.  I bat them toward me, longing them to stay longer…but like pretty blown bubbles, once touched, they vanish.

My counselor makes me laugh.  I didn’t want to laugh when I met her.  I didn’t like laughing in her office, but I couldn’t help myself.  She is fun to be with and brings out the best in me.  Our sessions are islands of joy in my sea of disaster.  I realize now that I borrowed her joy during this time.

While watching a Creation Health testimony tonight on 3ABN, I heard the lady share that during her bout with cancer, she didn’t have hope but borrowed hope her friends had for her.  Today she is alive and thriving, facing life with determination.  Her friends’ hope got her through.

My mind goes back to another paralytic and his friends.  The Bible tells us that these friends brought him to Jesus to be healed and that it was because of their faith that the man was healed.  Amazing!  God honored the faith of the friends.  Friendship is so important in any recovery experience.  God has given me key people who have supported me during this often-confusing illness.  Though they haven’t always understood me, they have loved me and prayed for me.  They have listened well and offered insights from their own spiritual journeys.  I have often worried about myself spiritually, particularly in the last six months.

Perhaps the chronic nature of this illness began to wear on me, or perhaps Satan tried to get me while I was down.  Regardless, I have struggled with things I never did at any other time in my life.  Faith in God’s Word and His promises waned. 

Prior to my illness I was dubbed “The Promise Queen” by church friends.  You had an issue, God had a promise and I could tell you right where it was.  But God didn’t come through on my time table and I seriously had trouble appropriating these promises.  Slowly, understanding has returned and faith has been rekindled.  How precious to me that I can lean on friends and family and especially my Savior for things I don’t have on my own. 

Salvation has been secure throughout this, don’t get me wrong, but there has been tremendous wrestling.

There have been those who have wounded me along this journey this year, whether intentionally or not.  I have been so fragile, irritable, and hard to be around.  It was too hard to love anyone around me.  But God’s Love remained steadfast and His love covered all those with whom I interacted.  He has brought good out of pain.  I’ve been blessed to be a blessing.

Are you facing desperate times?  Now is the time to surround yourself with those who love God and can be true support for you.  It’s OK to borrow what you need from their journey.  Soon you will be able to lend to others in like need.  That’s God’s wonderful economy.  Nothing wasted.  Blessings multiplied. 

I never thought daylight would return.  I’m so thankful to see first light.  You will too, friend.  Keep believing…or borrow for now.

Joni borrows God\’s smile to meet the day

Psalm 103:11, 12

Getting breakfast for the babies on Monday mornings I hear the rumble of the garbage truck in the alley nearby.  Trash day!  My warning to quickly gather all remaining garbage out of the house and make sure it’s all in the trash can by the curb.  It’s usually a family affair, hustling to beat the truck’s trek around the block.  With a wave of thanks to the hard-working gentlemen, I enter the house with a happy sigh.  No trash in sight.  All has been taken away, never to return again.

Communion day!  I scurry around the corners of my heart, asking God to take the trash out as I wait before Him in His house.  The emblems are passed and my heart breathes a happy sigh, thankful for the forgiveness of sins that have been taken away, never to return again.

“I die daily!” The text bounces around in my mind.  I don’t have to wait for Communion day for God to clear my heart of trash.  It’s Monday.  Breakfast is over.  Babies are playing.  I pick up my Bible, my journal and my pen.  I smile at the Gentleman who sits next to me and removes all my garbage.  Forever.

• Does your heart feel as dry and cracked as your hands in this Midwestern winter?
• Is your to-do list lengthening as the countdown to Christmas dings out insistently? 
• Have you experienced great loss this year and the silence of your loved one’s voice crashes into every waking moment?
• Do you have a restless discontent with life as it is right now? 
• Do you feel disconnected, down, even depressed?

If you’re like me, you want to be joyful.  You want to approach this season with worship and praise to the newborn King.  You want the howling winds of life’s disappointments to hush for a moment.  You want praise to bubble forth from a well in your soul filled with joy, nourished by the One who has taken all your pain and exchanged the losses with His gentle Presence.  May this precious Christmas song prime the pump. 

May you let Jesus see “right through you” and let every breath drawn “be Hallelujah” and let “Jesus live His life right through you” until the Day we can sing our praises around His throne.  Until that Day when all is made right, please remember, Dear One, that Jesus knows our losses and our pain.  His plan is setting us free!  Like hot cocoa stirred into a warm mug and sipped leisurely as one watches the snow flurrying outside, let “Hallelujah” be on our lips.  May this song stir our souls and warm our hearts as we remember the arrival of a Newborn and wait for our coming-again King.

He wasn’t too thrilled with the invitation to join me at my counseling appointment.  Not sure of many husbands who would be.  Yet we both knew its value to our current tailspin.  We never planned to be unkind and misunderstand each other regularly.  Not us! We thought we would be the couple who always spoke considerately even when disagreeing.  This month we celebrate our seventh year of marriage.  Sorry to say we’ve gotten a little careless with each other.  Thankfully, our marriage is strong and we aim to keep it that way!  Counseling is one tool we use to pull out of our circular thinking and recover our flight path. 

When we returned home that night we saw Eric and our baby sitter playing Othello together.  As he prepared for bed, Jerry and I began playing together.  We sat together, sharing a miniature serving of frozen key lime pie custard and playing.  It’d been a long time since we had just played.  That special dessert had been sitting in the freezer for months waiting for such a “date night.”  I felt delighted in the moment we were sharing.  Eric came through and asked us, “Who’s winning?”  I looked down at the board, over to my husband’s bent head beside me, and back up to Eric.  My reply was, “We are!”  And we were.

The internet was my outlet too.  Through my blog I was able to encapsulate life experiences that whirled around me into meaningful packages, helping me see God’s hand in it all and continue forward in my calling as wife and mother. 

Unfortunately, I haven’t written much in these last months.  Life has been incredibly challenging as Andrew has turned a “terrific” two-year-old, and Nathan an almost-walking 10-month-old.  Andrew is talking up a storm and counting to 10 all by himself.  Nathan is crawling his way through our hearts, giving us many reasons to thank God for preserving his life.  Several times a day he finds Mommy’s finger in his mouth scooping out the latest treasure he has secured.  Seems he puts everything in his mouth.  At that age Andrew would hand me his finds, with a sweet look that said, “Here, Mommy!”  But all kids are different.  Now, Andrew tests every new toy on Nathan’s head.  As I lunge to rescue, often too late, I think he must measure its worth by if and how loud he cries. 

My days are noisy and full.  Last week we were all ill (except for Jerry).  Even the boys’ doctor commented on their crying in harmony.  I heard that all week long.  Amazing how a little ibuprofen settled us all down.  Didn’t realize until I got sick how uncomfortable they must have been.

Ministry continues to circle around me.  Without an official designation at this stage in my life, God and I co-labor to maximize opportunities around us.  Simple things thrill me: 

• Praying with a Union College phone-a-thon student on the phone
• Giving website resources and offering prayer to the customer service rep at my phone company who is struggling with food intolerances
• Smiling and chatting with random grocery store customers who enjoy my babies
• Helping Andrew “share Jesus with Violet today” by singing to her in her residence
• Going to Moms’ group and Women In Touch with my neighbor friends. 

Just this week a neighbor’s husband commented approvingly about how much she had changed [since participating in church activities].  She takes amazing initiative and has strong leadership skills.  I invited her to one event; she and the Holy Spirit took it from there.  When you know you have made an eternal difference in someone’s life, it’s incredibly satisfying.  

This morning was my first chance with our resumed internet.  Tears of joy flowed in my heart as I heard the praise songs of the children once again and I looked into the beaming faces of my boys enjoying them with me.  It’s so worth it to have this resource once again.  Jerry and I prayed together, dedicating its use to God’s glory.  May it ever be so.

As I return to the blog, may you walk alongside me again.  This journey is not easy, but it can be joyful.  Meaning is not always apparent on the surface, but digging for the jewels under the gravel is worth the effort.  Perhaps you will share insights or experiences to add to mine.  We grow together.  We learn from each other’s real experiences with God.  My goal is to be as transparent as possible and yet remain appropriate to this setting.  Please pray for me as I struggle with the balance.  I wish to be of help here.

The internet is an awesome place to find God and grow spiritually. 

It is a great place to raise Godly children.  

Surprise you?  Much more emphasis is placed on the dark side so prevalent with this tool.  I want to show you what I’ve found to be indispensible here.  I invite you to share sites, too, that you find to help your journey. 

Here’s an inspiring clip for you.  Watch it with gratitude to the Provider of every good thing!

Welcome back friends!  I’m writing again!

Shoving aside these unpleasant fleeting thoughts I turned my attention back to our speaker*.  He was presenting the Gospel in its brilliance!  God’s love shone out from him as he retold the old, old story and connected it with my here and now.  This was the climax of the weekend.  Everything he had poured out to us in the other sessions culminated here at the cross, where Jesus forgave me freely of so much. 

Off in the corner I noticed the young adult hosts filling goblets with dark red grape juice and breaking up large sheets of crackers to serve.  I knew what was coming.  Communion.  Coming together at the Lord’s table.  Unity in community.  But I wasn’t prepared.  Would they do foot washing first?  Instantly, my eyes darted over to him.  How could I participate in the triumphant service of communion when my heart was not at peace with my brother?  They Holy Spirit flooded me with conviction.  God had forgiven me much and I could do no less.

An opportunity came when our speaker provided us quiet time to reflect and individually walk over to get our emblems.  By this time tears were streaming down my face.  I knew what I had to do.  Compelled with “might in my inner being” I weaved my way slowly through the assembly to where God’s own children were sitting.  It was as if there was a magnet pulling me their way.  Ignoring his wife, who I was at peace with, I carefully sat down beside him with my sleeping baby nestled against me in his baby carrier.  I was sobbing and he reached out to me with a generous hug.  For a few moments I just let him hold me and then I whispered to him what was on my heart.  I told him how I had been holding grudge after grudge against him for a long time and that I really didn’t know what it was all built from, but that I was sorry.  I asked him to forgive me.  I told him that I had done much against God and understood how much He had forgiven me and that I could do no less.  With supreme graciousness he accepted my apology and replied, “We all have.”   

She came around him then and hugged me sweetly.  They will be relocating soon and I told them I could not let them go without making things right with them.  The Holy Spirit was heavy on me with the urgency of this task.  She asked something about why I was crying and he simply said, “Janel’s going to miss us.”  Not highlighting my great sin but speaking of me as a loving sister.  We sat together a moment basking in God’s matchless grace and silently saying our peaceful goodbyes.  Then with great trembling I got up and made my way over to the tables filled with emblems.  In the darkened room I gathered my portion and partook immediately with reverent jubilance as I communed with the Great Reconciler of our souls.

My baby slept on as I returned to my seat with empty glass and crumby fingers.  It was then I realized that everyone else was still holding their emblems and was soon led through the Communion Service.  Mine was complete.  My heart beat joyously and my mind flitted lightly as the weight of unforgiveness was lifted.  I felt God’s smile on me.  That evening  I walked away more joyful in this journey than ever before.

Be kind one to another,

tenderhearted,

forgiving one another,

even as God

for Christ’s sake

forgave you.  

from Ephesians 4:32

*Matthew Gamble

Prepared for my Grandma’s Memorial Service: July 18, 2010.  A native Nebraskan, she accepted the Adventist message from tent meetings held by an evangelist in her area in 1926  when she was only nineteen.  She demonstrated “Selfless Service for the Savior”  through her 103 years.

By Granddaughter Janel

I wish each of you could see Grandma through my eyes, to have walked alongside her in our many adventures and as I’ve sat and talked my heart out to her in quiet moments by her chair or shared homemade popsicles (grape, her favorite; applesauce, mine) on her patio as the hot summer wind blew around us or played SORRY with her out there while she “irrigated” her garden.

Yet each of you have your own memories of Grams, grandma, mom, mom-in-law, aunt Nellie, sister-in-law,  great-grandma, neighbor, friend….  You sat near the 3^rd row at church with her year after year.  Or you opened the door to her out-stretched hands offering an arm load of tomatoes and cukes  brought to share.  You may have been warmed by the quilts she made or the ones she pieced together at Dorcas.  Your tummy may still growl for, what she would call, her “stupid stew” and  her blackberry roly-poly, as mine does right now.

Grandma showed me what God is like, not the perfect side, but the “God is Love” side.  She had her faults, flaws, and foibles, yet she was so loving and kind to all around her.  She led by example. 

Grandma spent time with me. No matter what chore she was doing she was always near.  Often we worked together and she taught me as we worked.  We picked blackberries, huckleberries, and garden produce together.  She showed me how to find squash bugs on zucchini plants and she squashed them too!  She taught me how to can the food we picked, and we ate her stores year round.

Other memories flood randomly:

• She appreciated help.  John was always doing something nice for her.  She accepted my willingness to pit cherries, especially in the later years when her thumbs didn’t work so well.  We had purple badges of honor  on our fingertips and red specks on her yellow kitchen walls when we were done.
• Grandma thought warm water in the morning was healthy.  
• She gave me honey for a sore throat.
• Making her own breakfast cereal of mixed grains and seeds was just part of her lifestyle of healthy eating.
• She read her large-print Bible, usually when we little kids weren’t around  to disturb her. 
• As her eyesight waned she relied on radio programs like Voice of Prophecy and material from Christian Record Services for her spiritual food.  When she became unable to attend, the TV and radio provided her with remote access to her home church . 
• On Sabbath mornings when I was a little girl, she let me crawl in bed with her and listen to KGTS’ Sabbath morning specials like The Quiet Hour on her old-fashioned portable radio.  Those times were so dear to me.
• When she prayed at meals she would get choked up.
• Grandma was a birder.  While caring for her ailing mother and father in Nebraska, Grandma wrote an insightful bird diary. 
• Grandma didn’t drive.  She walked all around town, toting her metal cart/basket behind.
• She firmly believed in putting on wraps before anyone ventured outside.. 
• As a woman she exercised her right to vote, but kept her choices very private.
• Every day, from jr. high through high school, Grandma packed my lunch.  They were hearty gifts of love. 
• Our family received a letter from her every week while my parents were teaching around the Northwest.  She resumed this when I left home, sometimes even writing twice a week.  Those letters were always at the right time, helping me feel connected and comforted across the miles.
• It was always a treat to return home to Grandma’s house.  We sang the closer we got to her place then flew out of the car and up to the steps where she was waiting.  In the springtime I would stop just long enough to pick a grape hyacinth flower for her.  Saying good-bye after those vacations was very somber for all of us.  But we carried happy memories with us as we do today.

Some may not know Grandma as I do or not have many memories at all.  My babies only met her once.  But that’s OK.  We all knew her love.  To be loved by her is one of the greatest blessings God has ever given me.  Someday we will see the One who poured His love into her heart so she could love others like that.  He loves even more constantly, with faithful patience. 

It’s been a long week without Grandma.  Never been without her before.  I miss her deeply.  In some ways I’ve been missing her a long time as distance, hearing loss, and failing eyesight took her from me little by little.  Yet our love for each other remained.  I depended on her love.  When I visited her in June I leaned over close and heard her say “I love you, too!”  and then I knew she knew I was there.  God knows our loved ones are important to us too, so I’m glad He made a way for us all to be together again someday.

I believe Jesus misses her, too, while she rests till that time.  He walked with her beside her garden in the cool of the mornings.  He stood beside her as she cried over the breakfast cereal and counseled her through other difficult passages of her life.  He rejoiced with her as babies were born and graduated and married.  He sat with her as she watched over napping little ones.  And He held her and whispered to her a peaceful “Good night” last week.  I’m comforted knowing that her very next experience will be hearing Jesus say, “Wake up!” and see her Lord coming in the clouds.

Grandma knew each of you in different ways. 

You mattered to her. 

We were her life. 

Thank you for loving her too.

Sabbath morning sunrise peaked across the hill and spread its rays over the waiting cars in the parking lot.  I sat behind the steering wheel watching the view, waiting for the bus that would take my baby and I away for the day for a women’s church retreat.  Still catching my breath from the whirlwind of the last few minutes as I had dressed my sleeping baby, gathered our things, and slipped away from the rest of my sleeping family. 

Uncomfortable in the stillness of the new day, I flipped on the radio to K-LOVE.  What I heard first brought tears to my eyes and prepared me for a day of blessing.  Amy Grant’s Better Than a Hallelujah.  I felt so vulnerable as I recognized God’s sweet message to me.  I imagined Jesus looking at me.  He saw my real life, my sleepless nights, my frantic days and accepted the muddy acknowledgements of His Kingship in my life as lovely praise.  In fact, the song indicates that sometimes He likes these better than the polished presents I think He’d favor.

With grateful tears streaming inside the walls of my heart I entrusted myself anew to my Maker and my King.  The bus arrived and Nathan and I joined expectant women who were eager to hear a word of hope from God that Sabbath.  We were not disappointed.

“God has no need for graven altars,

Vast cathedrals or crowded pews—

The sanctuary God loves best

Is a surrendered heart that He can use.”

B. J. Hoff

Bella is a miracle!  About a year ago she was born weighing only ONE POUND.  She was three months early and both her life and her mother’s were in danger.  Bella is an adorable little girl who attends my sons’ Sabbath school.  Becca, her mom, and I knew each other from attending Union College.  She and Steve bring her together each Sabbath.  Many people have prayed for Bella through her short little life.   She’s been through a lot.  Continually has had medical issues and victories.

At prayer meeting I heard Bella was in the hospital in isolation.  Only her parents were allowed to be near her.  A new specialist had been called in.  Over the next few days whenever I would think of little Bella, my heart would grieve for her parents and pray.  As my mom said, when I shared this prayer need with her, “…So sad to have her all this time only to lose her now.”

But God had other plans.  He’s the Miracle Worker.  Not just back in dusty Jerusalem, but even today!  My heart skipped a beat when the trio walked into Sabbath school the very next Sabbath morning.  After being in the hospital a week, Bella was discharged and back to Sabbath school.  Nutrition issues were further identified and infection was ruled out.  Becca told me they “made a pact with God” to bring her to Sabbath school EVERY week unless traveling.  What a blessing!  What a testimony!  What a miracle-working God!

(Pictures used by permission.)