Marriage Advice and Expectations

Well, on Sunday, we mark 5 years since saying, "I do" to the list of items we vowed to be together through. Not simply together, though; not simply by each other's side...but, to grow together - to become one through good and bad, rich and poor, sickness and health. As we close in on 5 years, I finally think I have some advice to offer. (Maybe.)



Some time after getting married, I read someone's blog post about marriage advice. She is a Christian woman whose opinion I respect, who'd been married for about 16 years at that time. She had been given this advice and she thought it quite apt: "Have no expectations."

I read that at a point where I was having some type of a struggle with this whole marriage-thing. Don't get me wrong - marriage is the best thing that has happened to me...but, there were times during our first 4 years that it also felt like the worst. Sometimes more of "the worst" than the best, to be honest. It seems so overused to say marriage is "the best hard thing" because sometimes the hard feels SO. HARD.

When I read that post, my first - and pervasive question was, "BUT HOW?" HOW do you have NO expectations? Isn't that the natural thing? To have expectations? To expect something? I just didn't get it. If you don't have expectations, why are you getting married? Don't you want to get something out of it?

...and that, is why the first four years were hard. Because I was way too focused on myself - and what I was getting out of this whole deal. How is this love?

Regarding expectations, I think the first thing a couple should do is examine the role their in-law plays in marriage. As a wife, what role does your mother-in-law take? That is going to be your husband's unspoken expectation of his wife. As a husband, what role does your father-in-law have? That is going to be your wife's unspoken expectation of you. ...and those unspoken expectations are some things that you, as a couple, will have to discuss and address, in your becoming one.

For us, our budget/bookkeeping brought this to light. We were on our honeymoon when our differing expectations started to come to light. After paying for our dinner, Dan handed me the receipt. I balked. What was I supposed to do with this? Why did I need this? He said, "Well, don't you want it, so you can keep track of it? For the budget?" Oh. I didn't realize that was going to be my job. I thought it would be his job!

The other area of expectations that you have to deal with is comparison to others' relationships. I struggled for a long time comparing Dan to my friends' husbands. It certainly wasn't helpful for my relationship with him. Who wants to feel like they don't measure up? In what way is this fair? Moreover, though, in what way is that love?

For me, the greatest lesson I have learned in marriage is how to love. Regarding expectations, I would advise that you currently have no idea how much you don't know how to love. You will be stretched. You will be tried. If you're doing it right, you will be broken. And, really, it's not you who will be broken - it's your expectations. It's your idea of love - and how you thought you were able to - maybe even good at - loving.

The greatest gift I have been given is an immensely patient, gentle, humble man, who is willing to stick with me through life. He isn't perfect; no. But, he has born my inadequacies, infirmities, insults. He loves me through them. He loves me. The greatest gift I have been given is the real experience of living the Sacrament. Marriage is a Sacrament because it's a revelation to the world of who Jesus is; how he loves us, and we love in return. When Dan has born my shortcomings and sins, and loves me anyway, that is a picture of how Jesus loves me. He tells me that I am more than what I do (or don't); I am more.

A lot of people mention the trial of this past year for us. To be honest, this was the best thing for us. I needed something major to snap me out of my self-serving spiral. Spiritually, I was out of touch with the love of God; keeping him at arm's length; afraid of getting too close; afraid of being changed too much; afraid of yielding control. God has saved me through this trial because he showed me how to LOVE Dan.

It's taken 5 years, but I am finally learning how to respect the man that Dan is, to love what he brings to the table - and together we figure out how to overcome our faults. It's taken this life-altering event for us to recognize the gift that each day is, and the gift that each day we have together. Marriage is one of the greatest gifts that we are given - if you are ready to be emptied of yourself and to love another as more than yourself.

⁴ Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. ⁵ It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. ⁶ Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. ⁷ It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.
⁸ Love never fails. But where there are prophecies, they will cease; where there are tongues, they will be stilled; where there is knowledge, it will pass away. ⁹ For we know in part and we prophesy in part, ¹⁰ but when completeness comes, what is in part disappears. ¹¹ When I was a child, I talked like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a man, I put the ways of childhood behind me. ¹² For now we see only a reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known.
¹³ And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love.  
[1 Corinthians 13]

Catchin' up - or "PCP - yeah, you know me!"

So, an update.

You know, I don't quite know where to start - or what exactly to say/share because "our story" continues to unfold - but, I should at least explain all the things that happened in April with Dan.

Sometime this 'spring' (I think in semesters, so spring starts in January)...like late February? - Dan got the results from a spinal tap and it came back clean. This means that Dan is "cancer-free." There are no more abnormal T-cells in his blood.

His weekly chemo that he was receiving was for the HLH - hemolymphiophagocytisis (or something like that). The HLH was the disorder that our doctor diagnosed him with in early January. When Dan's lymph node was removed July 2015, the doctors thought either Dan had lymphoma or HLH. Part of his treatment for HLH, in addition to the weekly chemo for 8 weeks, was to be on a steriod. In January, he was taking (I believe) 4 steroids each day for 2 weeks, and then that number was weaned by 1 pill, every 2 weeks.

In February, we met with a team in Pediatric Hematology/Oncology - because HLH mostly affects children (as a genetic disorder). They ran several tests to determine the nature of Dan's HLH. Dan is one of the oldest cases of HLH they've seen. Usually someone who develops HLH later in life has an underlying immune disorder which leads to the body's immune system "flipping" and turning on itself. The "good news" was that Dan does NOT have an underlying immune disorder. So, the only cause the team could identify would be chronic, active Epstein-Barr virus.

In early March, Dan's weekly chemo treatments ended and he started receiving chemo every other week. At that time, our doctor had wanted to cut Dan off of the steroid, but his fevers continued. So, she had him just stay on 1/day. The risk of being on a steroid 'long-term' is the development of pneumocystine pneumonia (PCP). To prevent this, our doctor prescribed Dan a monthly treatment of some drug meant to prevent the development of PCP, which he received with his chemo.

His last chemo & PCP-prevention treatment was March 25 (Good Friday). On Easter Sunday, he had a slight fever - but we didn't think much of it - and chalked it up to an active Saturday + chemo (the day we celebrated Easter with the family). That week was a very active week for us. Thursday and Friday marked the start of the Michigan Beef Expo, which is held in the MSU Pavilion. Dan spent several hours there both days. Friday, he spent the day mostly in the arena for the livestock judging contest (which has several inches of dirt).

Saturday, he had a slight fever. Sunday, a fever. Monday, a fever. He had a cough (not productive). On Monday, he walked up the stairs and was out of breath. On Tuesday when I got home from work, he mentioned he was having trouble catching his breath. But, he didn't want me to call the doctor. So, I didn't. [things I would do differently]

Tuesday night, he couldn't sleep because he was coughing and just couldn't catch his breath. Wednesday morning, I woke up to him sitting in a living room chair saying, "I want to go to the ER." Ok! We called UM, and the doctor there was concerned about Dan's ability to breathe and did not want him making the trip to Ann Arbor - so we went to Sparrow.

He was immediately given oxygen and ordered to be admitted (which finally happened 10 hours later). They started treating him for pneumonia (but not PCP). I was in contact with our doctor (McCoy) at UM; she was immediately concerned it was PCP. I said something to the ER doctor about being treated for PCP - and was blown off. His response to me was something like, "We'll start treating him for pneumonia and maybe on Friday, we'll test for PCP."
[yep, happened to be prophetic]

Thursday-day, Dan had a good day. He seemed to be responding. He didn't sleep well Wednesday night because he had a roommate (also named Dan, also had pneumonia). Dan gave me his blessing to be at work. That evening as I was driving to the hospital (which is about 10 minutes from campus), a wave of fear just spread over me. I knew that something was wrong - and I was scared.

I got there and Dan hadn't been able to catch his breath for 45 minutes. He told the nurse, but she had done nothing about it. I got the nurse to come back and she called the doctor who ordered more steroids to try to get Dan to relax. By the time the night shift nurse came (about 2 hrs after my 'fear feeling'), Dan's heartbeat was erratic.

The next few hours were a cluster of activity. More oxygen, different masks, pulse taking, EKG tests (or something), drugs to put his heart back in rhythm. Prayers. Lots of prayers. When I finally left the hospital, I felt like things were stable, but I didn't really know what was going on. I was scared, though. That drive home was a prayer, pleading for Dan's life.

When I got to the hospital that morning, Dan's heart was style out of rhythm because his breathing was still erratic. That morning, an infectious disease doctor came in (a first) to get Dan's history. [Now, on Monday of that week, we visited a naturopath who said that Dan had some time of fungal infection.] So, I asked him, "If Dan has a fungal pneumonia, is the medication that he is on treating that?"

"Oh, no."
"Well, our doctor at UM is very concerned that Dan has PCP." (I also learned that morning that no one from Sparrow had called Dr. McCoy, despite of the fact that I'd given her number to multiple doctors).
"Oh, well, PCP is a fungal pneumonia - and what he is on will not touch a fungal pneumonia. I will change his medicine." [I had no idea that PCP was a fungal pneumonia until this moment]

After his visit, I finally felt like we had someone in our corner. Finally, God was sending us an advocate (besides Mary and St. Raphael and God the Holy Spirit). Dan seemed more stable as the morning went on - and the plan was to switch him to a different mask for a couple hours while he napped (after he ate lunch).

So, I was going to go to the office during nap time and grab some things Dan wanted. I don't think I was at the office 15 minutes before Dan's mom called to say that they were going to move Dan to the Critical Care Unit (also known as ICU). Moving him to the mask caused his breathing to become extremely erratic. The nurse (who was phenomenal) had said earlier that if Dan got worse in any way, they would move him to CCU immediately to prevent the situation from becoming more critical.

I called my mom to let her know. This was the first time since Dan's entrance to the hospital that she cried on the phone with me. I don't know how she does it, but she seems so stoic emotionally when we talk - which lets me feel okay to "let it go"...but this time, she wasn't - and it helped me grasp the seriousness. I then called my dad who was on his way to Michigan to be with me; for the first time (since the hospital visit), he prayed with me on the phone. He wanted to make sure that I was okay to drive myself to the hospital. At the moment, I was.

...and then, I wasn't. I pulled over in a parking lot and started to sob. I cried and cried and pleaded with God to save Dan's life; to heal him; to right this situation. I felt so weak, scared. And, I started to sing. A wave of strength and calm enveloped me; the Holy Spirit was here.

I drove on. A block from the hospital, Dan's mom called to let me know that they wanted to put the ventilator in - but they weren't going to until I arrived. She mentioned something about the tube could be in anywhere from two days to two months.

I got to Dan's room - and a couple nurses were milling around, prepping Dan. His mom had mentioned that Dan wanted to talk to me - but he was in no shape to talk. I got to his side and prayed the Memorare nine times (just like Blessed Mother Teresa says), asked God to send St. Raphael, and a guided 'meditation' of breathing in the healing of the Holy Spirit. Again, I started to sing. The anthem of our week: "Holy Spirit, you are welcome here; come flood this place and fill the atmosphere. Your glory, God, is what our heart longs for, to be overcome by Your presence, Lord."

I cannot describe to you the tangible presence of PEACE that I felt. I knew that we would survive. I knew that in God's time, that tube would come out. I knew that whatever procedures were necessary, God had this. He would allow whatever was necessary - and what wasn't, wouldn't happen.

The plan was to insert the ventilator tube and also give Dan an arterial IV. The arterial IV is the best way to measure blood oxygen. The artery is accessed through the wrist; it's extremely painful to test - so this would make it easier. There was a chance that Dan's heart would go back into rhythm once the ventilator was in; if it did not, then they were going to do a procedure on Saturday where they would have to shock it back into rhythm.

The procedure went well. ...except that Dan woke up during it. His tube was already in, but he remembers waking up and not being able to move and wanting to get the tube out. He did spike a fever after this. I remembered later that the same thing happened when Dan had his lymphectomy...so I wonder if he slightly allergic to anesthesia?

Through it all, peace never left me. When we visited him after the procedure, he looked like the corpus. (for you non-Catholics, that's the body of Christ on the cross) He had been stripped down because of the fever, but covered with a pillow case - and his body was so white, his ankles crossed, his face flushed. Even then, God's peace prevailed. I knew God had him.

The next morning when we arrived at the hospital, I was floored to learn that Dan was 1) awake; 2) responsive; 3) communicative. We did not expect that. In fact, I had sent a message to Dan's siblings to bring books to read to him. We expected that at least on Saturday - and maybe Sunday - Dan would be mostly in a sleeping/coma-like state. Not at all.

It was a miracle! By the next morning, he was continuing to do great. He was being weaned off the ventilator to breathe more on his own, and the tube was removed around 11am. He had that tube in no more than 36 hours. He was still on oxygen. After two hours, he could start talking and eating.
The first thing that Dan ate was Jesus. Our pastor, Father Mark, visited around 2pm and gave us communion.

Dan spent the rest of the week recuperating and getting weaned off oxygen. He was released from the hospital on April 16 (Saturday). Since then, Dan has just continued to build strength and improve.

On April 29, we had our first visit with Dr. McCoy in a month. His blood work was completely normal! For the first time in 2 years, Dan's white blood cells were NORMAL. As a result, she did not have Dan receive chemo, and she weaned his steroid to every other day.

This past Friday, we met with Dr. McCoy again, and his blood work was still good, still normal. Again - no chemo, and now he's on the steroid every 3 days.

What's next? Well, Dr. McCoy is off for the next 5 weeks (but will still have access to Dan's labs and be in touch). Dan will have his blood work drawn every 2 weeks and sent to Ann Arbor. If it's not good - he'll get chemo. If it is...then, maybe we will try no steroid.

What's going on with the transplant? Geez, that's the million dollar question. It's not sustainable for Dan to be on the steroid long-term - since he's already had the complication with PCP. If he is able to be healthy without the steroid, then is a transplant necessary? This is where we are right now. It's very weird. To me, a bone marrow transplant - with all of its risks - shouldn't seem like a choice - like an elective surgery. That's how it feels right now.

I am content to wait to see how Dan responds to the weaning - especially with how good he's been feeling. Dan is content to see how he's doing. (We're not talking wait it out forever - but the next 2-3-4 weeks) [But] We continue to get pressure from those outside of the decision-making process who would like "to plan." I would ask for all of you [who made it this far in the blog] to pray for us in the next month; that our path would be clear - and that we would have peace - and that we would be firm knowing God's with us, regardless of people's opinions.

Anyway. That's the story.

OH WAIT! That's not the whole story...remember on that Friday afternoon and all that was happening? Besides me feeling the tangible presence of peace (the Holy Spirit)...about the time that I was sobbing in the car, my mom met her pastor to pray. She said that while they were praying in the parking lot, this rushing wind came around them and was moving in the trees - very John 3:8. [This reminded me of a conversation we had with a friend's mom the day of Dan's diagnosis; her first encounter with the Holy Spirit moving was wind.] Then, later that afternoon - about the time of Dan's procedure, my dad felt that he needed to pray at that moment for Dan. While praying, he started to speak in tongues (Romans 8 - the Spirit intercedes for us on our behalf), which does not happen to him often.

So freakin' cool. Our God IS an Awesome God.

Believe it. [or don't; you do have that option]

'Cause I'm B-M-T!

Please, channel your inner-metalhead and chant this with me:
Oy!
Oy!
Oy!
....'cause I'm B-M-T
DYNO-MITE!
B. M. T.

Thank you AC/DC for defining "badass" throughout my high-schoolhood. This little blast of creativity has helped offer up a more fun way of starting this post than what I've been feeling: "Sucks to suck."

So, anyway, you guys - here's the update you've all been waiting for and I'll cut right to the point:

The hematologist-oncologist and the team of immuno-hematologists have all recommended that Dan have a bone marrow transplant within the next three months.

Yep.

Did you just feel sucker-punched? A blow to the gut?

Because that's how I have been feeling. Our doctor (Dr. McCoy - hematologist-oncologist) gave her recommendation to us 2 weeks ago, and the immuno-team last week. And in spite of all that talk a few weeks ago about being detached from the outcome, I just have had a hard time grappling with this.

Truth of it all: I don't want it. I don't want the 5 days of chemo so intense that it decimates your system. I don't want the month-long hospital stay while we wait to see if Dan's body will accept the new life-force. I don't want the 100 days of in-home care he'll need. I don't want the year of waiting. The second year of waiting. I don't want the anxiety and worry and helplessness that I feel right now to continue for all that time.

I do want healing for Dan; I do want a cure for Dan. But I don't want him to have to endure all of that. I want Jesus to come right now and take it all away. Honestly, right now, I don't even know what to ask for in prayer.

Ok.

So, there's all of that. It's been hard for Dan coming to terms that should everything go well - the recommendation is for him to spend two years not working with livestock.

[yeah. another sucker punch.]

I think that's what makes this all so hard - knowing the risks, and the waiting - and that it will change your life no matter the outcome - makes it really hard to just say, "Ok!" Let's do it tomorrow!

But, every week that we meet with our doctor, we are reminded that this is waiting in the wings, so I guess it's time we let all of you in on the plan, too. 

Preach!

This past weekend, I attended a women's retreat hosted by our parish. It was great. Very Catholic - in a very good way. We closed with a woman's testimony (Karen Rutherford) - the mother of our priest, Father Mark. [Yes, Catholics have testimonies.] and Karen brought.it! - if we were more southern, more African-American, and less white-midwestern, we probably would have been yelling, "PREACH!" over, and over, and over again.

One of the key points in her story was that we have got to be on our guard against the devil. She specifically quoted Ephesians 6:10-15. She had us sing "Strong Tower" by Kutless.

and, boy, did I need it today.

1 Peter 5:8 tells us that "our enemy, the devil, prowls around like a roaring lion seeking someone to devour."

Today, I tried a new class at the gym. My friend, Karen (not Father Mark's mom), and I have been going to the gym for almost two months about 3-4 times/week. We've been lifting, running, and getting stronger.

We tried a barre class: specifically "Barre-Be." And that is not an accurate name. It should be called "This will kick your ass, punch you in the gut, and take your lunch money." It was hard. So hard, that about 15 minutes in...I almost had a break down.

I was on the verge of not just tears - a full-on, "I.can.not.do.this. I can't do anything. My life is so hard right now, and the last thing I need is something that is this hard that I have chosen to do" melt down. I was so close to just letting it all go that I had to physically stop, breathe, and ask God to give me the strength - mentally, emotionally, and physically - to keep going.

God helped me. I kept going. I was not going to cry. I'm tougher than that.

Ephesians 6 describes spiritual attacks like this - as flaming arrows. My battle, apparently, wasn't through. After the almost-meltdown (which was during mat-work), we moved to the bar. barre? barre. This allowed us to now have view of the wall of mirrors. [yea - half-hearted/self-conscious cheer]

[Now, I understand that the mirrors are designed to help you work on your form. But, really. Did men design these - or just gorgeous women without body image issues?]

Those arrows were pointed right at my exposed self-consciousness. "Wow. You really should have worn a different shirt. Ugh. Those love-handles. Look at those. Wow. Wow, I am actually the only person here with love handles. Coooool.... Wow. Look at these pants; they really emphasize my thighs. Wow, I actually have the biggest thighs here. Cooool.... Oh my gosh. I thought I was doing so good. ...I am never doing this class again." 

As I changed and tried to sift through this defeated spirit, my first desire was to go to Mass tonight and just get some Jesus in me. I realized that these thoughts are arrows trying to ruin me. But, they don't need to. I don't need to let them.

Paul (in Ephesians) and Peter both exhort - push - us to recognize that we must be alert. We must be on guard. Attacks will come at us when we start making in-roads to becoming the best version of ourselves (walking the road toward holiness and away from self-destruction). An attack is not a defeat (it's actually a sign you are getting somewhere).

Let's remember to utilize our power:

 Finally, be strong in the Lord and in his mighty power. ¹¹ Put on the full armor of God, so that you can take your stand against the devil’s schemes. ¹² For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms. ¹³ Therefore put on the full armor of God, so that when the day of evil comes, you may be able to stand your ground, and after you have done everything, to stand. ¹⁴ Stand firm then, with the belt of truth buckled around your waist, with the breastplate of righteousness in place, ¹⁵ and with your feet fitted with the readiness that comes from the gospel of peace. ¹⁶ In addition to all this, take up the shield of faith, with which you can extinguish all the flaming arrows of the evil one. ¹⁷ Take the helmet of salvation and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God.
¹⁸ And pray in the Spirit on all occasions with all kinds of prayers and requests. With this in mind, be alert and always keep on praying for all the Lord’s people. ¹⁹ Pray also for me, that whenever I speak, words may be given me so that I will fearlessly make known the mystery of the gospel, ²⁰ for which I am an ambassador in chains. Pray that I may declare it fearlessly, as I should.  Ephesians 6:10-19

 Be alert and of sober mind. Your enemy the devil prowls around like a roaring lion looking for someone to devour. ⁹ Resist him, standing firm in the faith, because you know that the family of believers throughout the world is undergoing the same kind of sufferings.
¹⁰ And the God of all grace, who called you to his eternal glory in Christ, after you have suffered a little while, will himself restore you and make you strong, firm and steadfast. ¹¹ To him be the power for ever and ever. Amen.   1 Peter 5:8-11

 As I drove away from the gym, "Strong Tower" started playing in my head; my sign from the Holy Spirit, that He's got this.

America without mercy is just a-i-a, which is a lot like ay-yi-yi

This message has been tossed around in my head for months now. Months. Since November, when politicians first started swearing to board up the country and refuse Syrian and Iraqi refugees...and I've let it sit here. Sit here, stewing, hoping that at some point the country would be shaken from this bad dream that seems to be gripping us.

Yet, here I still sit, watching a dream morph into a nightmare believing that at some point, we'll wake up - gasping for air, yes - but thankful, it was all a dream.

I have no idea where to start. So, I'll just say this: Lord, have mercy. Christ have mercy.

What is mercy - but a picture of the God's loving kindness (hesed)? His willingness as the father of the prodigal son, who wished him dead, to stoop down and embrace his son? His willingness to reach down low into the muck and mire, risking his reputation, to pull up a child - or even an animal - destined to die unless one reached out?

This is what each of us, whether we embrace the mercy of Jesus or not, has been offered. This is what we, for those who call ourselves "believers" have received. THIS is what we, as believers, must offer to others.

To do so, though, we must first recognize that we are in the muck and the mire - and we are not those on the sidelines helping others out...we are simply extending a hand to our fellow sinner - and together, we grasp the hand of our Father. This is the image God revealed to me on Saturday while I was talking to him about a guy that I don't particular care for (and no, it wasn't the Donald; just a fellow parishioner that I don't even know well - so I'm just being judgy)...and the image I saw was that his hand was necessary for me to even get closer to the surface because he was closer to the surface than me [that's how much I am in the muck].

Mercy is not just between us and God. To be the body of Christ is not just between us and our church or just between us and people who believe like us. To be the body of Christ, we must be showing mercy to every body. We must be willing to risk ourselves so that another might live.

...and what I see from my beloved America is, instead of living the freedom that comes from being the body of Christ - fear.

FEAR.

We are afraid to be open to any new group of people, to admit the imperfections of our history and past - because, God forbid, we won't be great, any more.

That is never what made us great. What made America great was unity - and geez, when in our history have we experienced unity in all things? (never!) But, we recognized that in our great freedom, that we must show mercy: we must recognize my neighbor as better than myself; I must consider the needs of another as much as I consider my own. A spirit of brotherhood united even when we disagreed on the specifics.

Didn't it? Or is this just my idealization of America? Because I really don't know, anymore.

There have been dark times in our past. People have been oppressed. Admitting these things doesn't make America small. Repentance leads to reconciliation. Maybe "your people" had nothing to do with slavery because they weren't even in America yet. I get it. That doesn't mean you can't listen to those whose family stories have been defined by a great, dehumanizing, injustice. We must listen and acknowledge for some healing to begin.

The immigration issue won't be solved with a fence. It is not simple. Every day people risk their lives to wander across a mountainous desert...for what? To be greeted by a country that spits at them, locks them up, and sends them back? I guess I don't understand why it's such an arduous process to allow immigrants. What happened to Ellis Island? Why can't Nogales and Douglas and El Paso and San Diego become beacons of hope like Ellis Island was for my ancestors?

Because some might be drug dealers? Some might be rapists? I think we've got Americans who are drug dealers, rapists, terrorists...so, what are we really afraid of? [which is the same argument I'd pose for allowing Syrian and Iraqi refugees to come]

For those of us who call ourselves Christians, it becomes especially pertinent to fight our fears and embrace those who are hurting, sick, alien - different from us in every way. No, America may not be the same America from your childhood - but, that's part of the beauty, right? We are grasping each other's hands and swimming toward life.

The aspiration of life, liberty, and pursuit of happiness is not found without being in a community. To be an island is contrary to the Gospel...and the Gospel is Truth, is it not? We don't get to choose our community. We've got to struggle in this together.

To close...just don't give in to fear, ok, America? Don't succumb to hate or division. We are better than that. We must be better than that.

The art of detachment

The last two months have really driven home to me the necessity of detachment. St. Ignatius of Loyola, founder of the Jesuit (Society of Jesus) order, was staunch supporter of detachment.

I was first introduced to the concept while reading “My Life with the Saints,” by Fr. James Martin, SJ (SJ means Society of Jesus, btw). 

Each chapter of the book details a saint who has had a significant impact upon Martin’s life. As a Jesuit, the life of St. Ignatius has impacted Martin. There are many areas of Ignatian spirituality that resonate with my soul; one particular challenging way is the practice of detachment. [I started typing “idea of” and realized my challenge not the idea – it’s making the idea a reality.]

Part of the ways that God has been shaping my life/heart is opening my eyes and heart to remember that this life is not all there is. Post-college, I was pretty detached. It was easy to say “whatever you will, God” when it was just me. …and then, I got what I wanted. I got married! …and, suddenly, (perhaps it wasn’t sudden at all) I wanted my way. I wanted Dan. I wanted this life. I wanted all the things my dreams were made of, and I could never be satisfied with less.

As a result, my relationship to God suffered. Why? How? Well, it’s quite simple. I didn’t want Jesus. I wanted everything else – with a side of Jesus. A helping of righteousness alongside the main dish of Jessica’s desires. Dan as the main course seasoned with a dusting of God’s miracle blessing dust.

[Excuse me while I puke.]

It has taken me awhile since the diagnosis to get to a point of accepting detachment. July 28 – January 8 was filled with a lot of rosaries. As those who are familiar with the Rosary know, that means 5 “Our Fathers” a day. Five times a day, I was asking that God’s will be done on earth as it is in heaven…but, what I really meant was my will. I meant that he bring about the outcome I wanted: miraculous healing for Dan, preventing him from suffering, deliverance from this trial.

This meant that my faith, my hope, my trust was all circumstantial. If Dan was getting better, Yea! God is good. But, as he continued to get sicker December 19^th through January, faith falters when dependent on an outcome like that.

On January 5, we met with the bone marrow doctor – and if you want a reality check: that’s where you need to go. I can’t speak for Dan, but hearing that what we had put our hopes in as a cure could potentially kill – it rocked me. I’ve blogged about this before, so I won’t go back there – had it not been for God’s mercy in providing me a new perspective, I do not know how I would be so full of hope now.

I started the following on January 15 about detachment:

Today (Friday) is our new chemo day, which means that on this day we meet with our doctor and we find out news. Approaching these days can be 'hard' - especially on days when you know results are coming. How do you prepare your heart for good news or bad news?

This fall, I read a little bit about St. Ignatius (founder of the Jesuits, aka 'Society of Jesus') - and his response would be to detach from the outcome. Detaching from the outcome does not mean giving up or accepting defeat. It simply indicates this greater understanding that the outcome of a test doesn't need to disrupt my faith: love for Jesus.

Dan and I were discussing this idea today: if treatments don't go as planned, it doesn't mean God isn't for us. ...and when we get bad news or there is confusion - that also doesn't mean that God isn't for us. ...but, it can feel like it.

So, rather than pin my hopes on an outcome (favorable or unfavorable), I have been getting back in touch with the unchanging, unwavering God who is. This God revealed himself to us through Jesus Christ - who demonstrated a radical way of loving - the Father and humanity. How did he do this?

Detachment. In the Garden of Gethsemane, Jesus prayed three times that the Father's will be done over his own desire. Through this, he submitted to a plan bigger than his own life. When he came to earth, he emptied himself of his rights as the second Person of the Trinity. Being found in the likeness of a man, Jesus practiced obedience to the Father. He accepted every part of what it means to be human - even dying (a horrible, excruciating, humiliating death).

The hope of His suffering and death was the resurrection: LIFE can come from death. Death is not the end. “Where, O Death, is your victory? Where, O Death, is your sting?” [not to say that life cannot be lonely for us  in the wake of death – but death is not the end]

Learning to practice detachment has helped me not only reconnect with the God who is, but, once again, God Himself has become my hope. Yesterday’s (2/25) reading from Jeremiah reminded me that our hope can be unfailing, when it is in the right place.

Reading 1 Jeremiah 17:5-10

Thus says the LORD:
Cursed is the man who trusts in human beings,
who seeks his strength in flesh,
whose heart turns away from the LORD.
He is like a barren bush in the desert
that enjoys no change of season,
But stands in a lava waste,
a salt and empty earth.
Blessed is the man who trusts in the LORD,
whose hope is the LORD.
He is like a tree planted beside the waters
that stretches out its roots to the stream:
It fears not the heat when it comes,
its leaves stay green;
In the year of drought it shows no distress,
but still bears fruit.
More tortuous than all else is the human heart,
beyond remedy; who can understand it?
I, the LORD, alone probe the mind
and test the heart,
To reward everyone according to his ways,
according to the merit of his deeds.

Detachment, then, is not the art of being separated from all things – but separating our dependence, devotion, and allegiance from all the things that cannot bring life (eternal satisfaction). The art of detachment is being fully attached to the Lord, from whom our help comes. Detachment is hoping in the Lord – not only for deliverance from a trial – but even more, for communion with the One who is…Life, Love, Truth, the Way. 

May this be the prayer for us all:
Blessed is the man who trusts in the Lord, whose hope is the Lord!

To my twenty-somethings...

Well, the time has come for me to write this post. I’ve been teaching a course focused on professional development for juniors and seniors for the past 6 weeks; I’ve advised college students for nearly 5 years; I’ve informally advised my TRIO kids as they progressed through college for 13 years. AND I’ve lived my own life. So, the time has finally come for this announcement:

NO DECISION YOU MAKE IS REALLY GOING TO SCREW YOUR LIFE UP THAT MUCH.

So, Beloved Student, just STOP. STOP with the freaking out already. STOP with the posts about panic attacks and how “grown-ups” just don’t understand the pressure you’re under. STOP ruining college by obsessing over the things that don’t matter – like every point you miss. Because why? You are missing the point.

1)      The point of college – of your freakin’ life, actually – is to LEARN. It is to GROW. To be a better person tomorrow than you are today. So you know what? No one actually expects you to have it all together? None of us expect you to know it all – and we’d like it if you would actually chill out and listen to us when we try to talk you off the ledge.

So, the next time that you miss a point because you didn’t read directions that clearly, just own it – and don’t do it next time. The next time that you get a 2.5 (or C+) on a test that you thought you understood, go to office hours and ask your professor or TA to show you what you missed. Explain to them how you understood to do it – and then pay attention to the example they give – and notice the gap from what you did to what they did.

That gap that you just noticed? That’s where learning can take place now. When you address the “dissension” between what you thought and the reality/right version is where learning can take place.

All those reflection papers you have to do about the process? Again, that is to help you acknowledge learning. The person you are at the end of the semester should be different from the beginning because you have discovered more about yourself. Processing how your writing, speaking, application of information has improved recognizes the growth – learning – that has taken place.

2)      More schooling does not help you know what you want to do with your life. If you’re not employable with a BS, what makes you think an MS will make you employable? Being employable is about experience, skills, and talents. So, get out of the library and get some experience!

3)      Your elders – parents, bosses, professors, advisors – are not unreasonable, unfeeling monsters that lack an understanding of just how “real” “the struggle is.” I. GET. IT.

I vividly remember telling my mom as a 22, 23, 24, 25, 26, 27, 28, and 29-year-old just how much SHE did not understand what it was like to be my age and have no idea where your life was going. Truthfully, her life was very different from mine. She married at 22, and a lovely, delightful daughter at 23 – and, to me, her life was just pretty settled after that. I don’t know that my mom ever struggled with the feelings of restlessness and unease, anxiety and doubt, like I did. Because, you know what? She made a choice and she lived it. She didn’t obsess about the goodness or badness of her decision. I imagine that she reasoned if she was really on the wrong path, God would make it abundantly clear to her.

I remember, as a 23-year-old, feeling desperate in my singleness – alone and wondering how I would ever meet that person – having dinner with an older (read: 29 or maybe 33) single person, and wondering how in the world this person could be so content. It seemed to me that would be the end of the world. (hahaha, God. I was 31 when I got married and the timing seemed just fine then)

So, I can’t speak for all the adults in your life, but I do “get it.” I completely understand the turbulent twenties, and that is why I write this post. If I could go back and tell myself one thing, it would be this:

Eliminate RIGHT or WRONG from your life plans.

The “right” college? Is a college that fits your interest and has your major.

The “right” major? Is a major that you enjoy learning about and prepares you to get a job.

The “right” job? Is a job that pays you a living wage and allows you to contribute to society (oh and benefits are a plus, too). Preferably that job is in your field – but it doesn’t have to be. It’s okay. You can get a job for a tech company and be an animal science grad – and still be engaged in the animal world.

I obsessed so much over doing the right thing and wondering if it was what God really wanted for me…and much of the time, I believe His response to me was: you have a vast space that I’ve put you in. I’ve given you talents and desires; I’ve give you My Word to guide you and My Spirit to direct you. If you are in line with me, feel freedom to choose.

If the decision you are about to make really matters to the outcome of your life – and you are about to go contrary to where that is: God will let you know.

There are many examples of God intervening in individuals’ lives throughout the Bible and lives of the saints in dramatic fashion. In one instance so far, God has also done this for me.

It was February 2008 and I was ready for a change – career change, mostly. I was 27, had just finished as Iowa MAEOPP President, and really had gotten a sense for my ability to accomplish real work. I started to get a sense not only of my calling, but of my desire to be more than what I’d thought in college.

At the beginning of January, I started reading [Journey of] Desire by John Eldredge. The premise of this book is to realize that the desires you’ve “always” had, your natural talents – those are gifts from God. You have been created in Christ Jesus for good works – and those don’t require you to divorce yourself from your self to be from God. This was a revelation from me. You mean the things that I’d always desired – to be married, to be involved in the ag community, to help others enact their potential – those could be good? Those could be used by God? He gave them to me?  Whoa. [When I was becoming Catholic, I realized this part of the beauty of the incarnation of Jesus as man.]

Fast forward to mid-February. I had a job interview to be an Upward Bound Director in Minneapolis on the 12^th; interviews for assistantships at the Ohio State University’s Student Personnel graduate program (or whatever the full name is) on the 14/15^th; interviews for Iowa State University’s Educational Leadership & Policy Studies’ assistantships. BIG deals. BIG game-changers for my life path.

One night, I woke up around 3am and could not get back to sleep. Try as I might, sleep evaded me. So, I decided to pray. I prayed for EVERYONE and everything I could think of (except my upcoming interviews), and still no sleep.

“God! Why can’t I sleep?” I demanded. I had the prompting of a thought: “What do you have coming up this week, Jessica?”

“Well, I have these 3 interviews….”

Then, this vision popped in my head:

I was in a hallway with 3 large, heavy, wooden doors – closed – in front of me. I knew what each door represented, what was behind them – and I could sense just how heavy and how closed they were.

“What would you like?”

“Ugh. I don’t know, God! Show me which one to go through!”

“Jessica, if you knew the One who was showing you these, who had the power to…”

Then, I saw it: a window appeared beside the doors. But, the window – though also closed – I could see through to a field basking in full sunlight; rolling, golden-green hills. I knew: this was my desire. This was what I really wanted. And, this could only be mine if opened by God. Only God could make this window into an open door.

“Open the window, God! God, I want you to open the window!” I cried out pleadingly.

Like that, the vision was gone. It was 5am. I was wide awake and full of energy. I knew that I would go to each of those interviews – but I would not be choosing them. I didn’t know exactly what I would be choosing – but within a day, I did. I chose to get a Master of Science in Ag Ed with an emphasis on Extension.

If I had gone to Minneapolis or Columbus, it is highly unlikely that I would be where I am today. If I had done ELPS, I don’t think I would have been happy in what I learned. I truly love learning about learning – and teaching to engage learning. ...and, who knows if I would have met Dan?

In Dan’s life, he had a similar redirection – but not quite as spiritual. He was all set to go to grad school at Colorado State and study meat science. ONE WEEK before he was to move to Fort Collins, Dr. Hogberg called and offered him the Graduate Shepherd assistantship – and he came to Iowa State instead.

So, my dear young friends: when God needs to change your path, HE WILL.

Until then, go forward with some confidence that if life was a series of do or die decisions, He would give you a blueprint. Remember that He is a loving God; He isn’t cruel. As my dad said once, “If you are faced with a series of choices – and none seem to be closed, and none are out-of-line with His plan (outlined in the Bible), and none are immoral – then, God is allowing you to use your God-given intellect and freedom to choose. So, choose with confidence.”

Lastly, I would love to urge you to find joy in this time of life.  Personally, I worried so much about how my life would turn out at times, and if I could speak this truth to me, I would. Would I have believed this sage advice? Probably not. Some things, I am unfortunately hell-bent on learning MY way – through experiencing all the feelings, and feeling all the bumps in the road – until I let God shine some light upon my understanding.

But, 14 years after being a senior in college with no life plan after August: I now see that what God has guaranteed us is this moment (and eternity). So, find the lesson in this moment. Feel the feelings – and then find the peace and the joy only found in the presence of Jesus – and just live this present circumstance.

…and above all, ENJOY COLLEGE. At the very least, listen to your friend who wants to take you out for your 21^st birthday even when you have a final the next day. That’s what college memories are made of. Right, Pam?

FFA is from Mars; 4-H is from Venus

I wrote about FFA Saturday, so in my reflective, "what made Jessica" state I thought I'd weigh in on 4-H, too. I'd like to begin with a ground-breaking statement:

4-H and FFA are not the same.

Just like men and women are not the same; 4-H and FFA are not the same. Like men and women are similar, 4-H and FFA are similar. Like men and women are different, 4-H and FFA are different. A man isn't the same as a woman; one cannot replace the other. If the world was full of all men, where would the reproduction be? Similarly, if the world was full of women, where would the reproduction be? We must co-exist to co-create (and procreate). Men and women are wonderful complements to each other; similarly 4-H and FFA are wonderful complements to each other - but one cannot replace the other.

For me, 4-H fostered the skills necessary to be a competent and competitive FFA member. Without 4-H, I never would have joined FFA. FFA was attractive to me as an arena to take my skills to the next level. FFA would not have been attractive to me if I didn't already have those skills - or the self-confidence to pursue competition.

Iowa 4-H is different from Arizona 4-H is different from Michigan 4-H. Iowa 4-H county to county is different, as well. (And, in my humble opinion, I like it that way. Of course, I was in a county with an excellent leader - and that does make all the difference.)

My 4-H experience looked like this: I was part of an all-girl club (yes, really; those were rare 20 years ago and now they're like a unicorn; people hardly believe they ever existed). Our club was a community (technically township) club - compared to a project area club. As club members, our projects ranged from food & nutrition to clothing to horticulture to livestock projects. As a club, we performed service activities for our community and county. We met once a month (in someone's home at first; later at our church), discussing club business, learning something new (from members' demonstrations), and enjoying each others' company.

My club required that every year, we had to do a demonstration (read: a presentation where you teach others to do something) - and for the first few years, we were assigned a general topic that correlated to a project area (food and nutrition, clothing, etc). My first presentation was about measuring ingredients. (I had no idea what to talk about; my mom picked the topic)

I joined in the 4th grade, which was the first year that I could join. My 4-H age (a real thing) was usually an entire year younger than my actual age. (That's a good idea now that I think of it; I will go with that and be 35 a for another 9 months.) When I joined, two of my friends were also new members. Nearly every other member was at least 4 years older than me.

I was a really shy kid. This may surprise some people who have known me because when I am comfortable around people, shy would not be the word that would cross your mind. Opinionated. Loud. But, shy? Yes. One of my strengths (winning others over) also causes me to get anxious about social situations (I-just-want-to-be-liked-what-if-no-one-likes-me?). So, giving a presentation in front of high school students that I looked up to (idolized is probably a better word) could induce a panic attack. But, my mom instilled in me the importance of the great speaking anxiety reducer: practice.

So, I practiced. I gave my presentation with confidence. I learned that I can do this. I was less nervous about speaking. I started creating my own presentations and choosing topics. I looked forward to giving my presentation and sharing my knowledge. I took more 'risks' - and did communication projects with my club (Share-the-Fun) and with a friend (working exhibits). I found success.

4-H taught me that with practice you can master skills. 4-H taught me that everything is scary at first; practice makes it less scary. 4-H taught me that life is about process not the outcome.
(Okay: now let's look at interesting juxtaposition. Ironic that now Extension is so focused on outcomes that states have decimated what made their programs so successful?)

Learning those lessons gave me confidence in my abilities. I became a less shy kid. In fact, when given the opportunity to shine (thank you Deb Hall), I actually sought people out. My WOO strength bloomed thanks to opportunities provided through Adair County Youth Council, Area 4-H Council, SOFA, and State Council.

It was through County & Area Councils and SOFA Planning Team that I learned how to be a collaborative leader. My strength of ideation went into full-force dreaming up day camps, workshops, field trips, and t-shirt design. Implementing these camps and trips allowed me to practice my adaptability strength - and learn to welcome the unpredictable.

4-H allowed me grow into the person I am by fostering opportunities to develop talents. These talents were strengthened through county, area, and state opportunities. FFA provided a platform to exercise the talents in a competitive setting. 4-H is collaboration; FFA is competition. (Kinda like the feminine and masculine energies, huh?) Both are valuable; both teach essential life lessons - but different lessons and through different methods.