Showing posts with label healing. Show all posts
Showing posts with label healing. Show all posts

Thursday, 20 April 2023

My Diary of Wrestling through Writing

 

Finding Joy in the Battle

 

Early April 2023:

Writing has many inspirations. It flows from life's interactions with people and experiences mixed with imagination and soul revelations. Often it is piqued by immersion in places where the grace of creation is as tangible as if you had just plunged into the deep dark, chilling pool of a high mountain stream. You are awakened to the world of pleasure and pain, colours and textures, light and shades, tastes and delights, olfactory joys and testing journeys. Your Spirit alive. Made aware. Paraclete's presence. The Shalom of providential nurture. New season's fruits. A brave knowing. Deep calling to deep. Truth's entrusted. Echoes and the Original Voice. Love that calls for the wild. Abandonment to Passion's perspective. The Greatest thing. Giving of Life.



I mentioned in my previous Christian Writers Downunder Blog post (January 2023) about the challenge of having several close family members who had received devastating cancer diagnoses. I used this reality to help punctuate my post about writers having the opportunity to provide the gift of ‘a different narrative’. 

The messages coming from the medical prognosis of our loved ones was that they were sick, very sick, and were facing significant challenges and were emotionally and physically overwhelming.

As I wrestled with all this, I wrote. In fact, I think I wrestled with all these emotions and thoughts by writing. I present here some of my wrestling for you.


19th April 2023:

Days end is a moment to pause and listen and read the signature messages of omnipresent love. A new day starts. Years are chapters in libraries full of wonder.

 

Early March 2023:

This year’s Shave for a cure was the most personal fundraising and advocacy I have been involved in . I went bald to help raise support for Cancer research. Several of my close family members and friends have experienced their own personal battles with Cancer. This has included my Mum, our daughter and my wife’s sister. It has been a challenging season. That is why I chose to shave my head this year for raising support for a cure for cancer.

 


Sometime this year:

Peace!

Our understanding is simply surpassed by the heaven-sent love actuality that establishes, grounds us, perfects us, empowers us beyond any human potentiality.

 

The peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable--if anything is excellent or praiseworthy--think about such things.

Philippians 4

 


 

Earlier in March 2023 :

In 2022 our daughter was diagnosed with Hodgkin's lymphoma. This is a type of cancer that affects the lymphatic system, which is part of the body's germ-fighting immune system. In Hodgkin's lymphoma, white blood cells called lymphocytes grow out of control, causing swollen lymph nodes and growths throughout the body.

…….Our daughter has undergone treatment while pregnant which has been a huge challenge. But she is amazing, responding well to treatments, and our little grand daughter was born in November. There is joy in the battle.

We are so thankful that research, treatment, care and prayer have combined for a good healthy future for our daughter.

However, with no screening programs available and no means of prevention through lifestyle changes, blood cancer continues to be Australia's hidden cancer crisis.

Every day, 53 Aussies are diagnosed with blood cancer, and 16 will lose their life.

BTW our Daughter completed her treatments last Thursday 🙂

 

 

 23rd February 2023 (Our Daughter wrote this):

“Today I had my last dose of chemo. I’ve got my next PET scan next month, which (I hope) will confirm that I’m in complete remission!

Life is full of many battles, and for me this was a big one that I know I’ll never forget.

I’m so blessed to have so many wonderful friends and family members who have been praying and caring for me and our little family over the past 7 months. And to all of the health care workers, doctors and nurses who have been going through this journey with me, I thank you for all of your support, care and positivity. You’ve made the situation that much easier to deal with.

Whatever you’re going through, whatever fight you might be fighting, keep fighting it, because coming through the battle field and knowing that you’ve won is a great feeling!”

 


It was a brave, hope-filled, prayer-like, inspiring narrative.

 

Early in February I had written:

One of the powers of Grace is that omnipotence surpasses circumstances. A simple knowing. In the most horrific of battles .....Joy.

The trick is that we simply need to be still enough to see it, hear it, know it and let this knowing spring forth. Like a seed that takes root, grows and flourishes even in what seems to be the most impossible of spaces.

 

In Mid January 2023 our Daughter was losing her hair as a result of her chemo treatment, My Mum had just undergone major and invasive surgery and I was praying, wrestling with all the internal emotions and writing…… :

When the sky displays colours that make you stop in your sandy tracks......

I want to make sure I pause long enough to not just admire the beauty, but breathe in a fresh resolve that my gratitude is constantly superceded by heaven's providential grace. Even when the going is hard, I can exhale praise through sighs, tears, groans and pain. When the frailty of our mortality is challenged, somehow there is always joy. With each sigh there can be a smile, with each smile a laugh, with each laugh a song, with each song a declarative shout that all is well in my soul.

Another breath, another truth, another day, another mercy. There are joys in our battles, we must notice them through the war haze.

Peace beyond reasoning.

 Fix our gaze on heaven's displays of light. In the darkest night we have the glow of our living, the presence of Love, the personification of justice.

Hope clings like a shawl, the warmth of sunset's awe, knowing that the morning brings the sun again to amaze our senses and show a provision beyond our littleness.

 An omniscient eternal potency of Creator's nearness and care.

 


 

In December 2022 

while I was praying for our daughter (and her husband) and their baby and my Mum in the midst of their health challenges I wrote something I would like to share with you. Something that echoes their challenges alongside the beauty of their womanhood and being “Mum":

  My protagonist, Charlotte, is a 45 year old Medical Relief worker (a character I have been developing for several years). She has been taken captive and imprisoned in a stone and tin shed for 9 months. Why? She does not know. But she is desperate to find meaning in her incarceration.

I wrote as I wrestled:


All the disparity of her captivity came upon her like a heavy wave of anxiety. In crescendos it came with a morose dolefulness, a suffocating depression. That sometimes heightened into desperation. On those days she would wake with her pulse already escalated. Her breathing rapid and shallow and sometimes she would be sweating even though the air was often cold, and she would yell and scream, sometimes she would hit the walls. On one occasion she had given in to this angst curled up foetal-like on the floor and then thrashed around like a toddler in torment.

When she had calmed herself through her tears, she tried to remember times of freedom.

The day she remembered was her birthday. The emotion she experienced was elation. It was relief. She remembered her birthday all those years ago as she sat in an aircraft cockpit beside her pilot directing his concern for where they would land. Their payload were the rescued souls of her tribal friends. Hunted. Now refugees. Seeking safety. A new space to live. Redeemed and about to remake their lives in a valley that had been purged of peoples. It lay quiet, secluded, unknown to the outside world. A space of healing and a new start for them. And she realised this was in her favour to. The flat fields of rice below were wet, very wet, sodden. Streams were full. Overflowing. The large columns of dark clouds above were pregnant with flooding offspring.

Her memory moved to years before as she breathed deeply of the smell of the wet season beginning in earnest. She was remembering walking in one of those villages. The village she would help rebuild and repopulate with new families.

 

Children ran up to her and around her. The dirt track was muddied, pot marked and slippery. The children weaved around her, carefully jumped over puddles, and eagerly called her name. Those who dared or were pushed by their jovial friends touched her fair skin. They pretended to walk like her flicking their dark locks of hair to make fun and show attention to her long blonde hair. The smallest of her new friends was pushed into her by one of the more boisterous older girls. The little girl had begun to sob until Charlotte had smiled at her, taken an ink stamp from her bag and stamped the love heart icon on her own hand. As the little one reached out her hand, she stamped her hand too. They then walked hand in hand through the village to the little girl’s hut. What ensued remained a vivid blessing to her senses.

 

The little girl's mother had met her at their hut entrance. She had reached out her hand in greeting. But to Charlotte’s surprise had bypassed the rudimentary western greeting of a handshake and had moved closer and more intimately to place her hand fully on Charlotte's lower abdomen. In her simple English the mother had spoken to Charlotte's umbilical region through her hand.

“Your womb will be blessed !”

The beautiful young mother had then seemed even more so to Charlotte. Aglow in what seemed a prophetic, mystical glow. She was a small lady. Her sinewy form showed tender nurturing softness despite the years of hard work she had accomplished already in her short life. Charlotte reasoned that she was probably her age but had already born several children herself. The mother looked lovingly into Charlotte's eyes and smiled a well-attended pretty joy that spread from her mouth to her cheeks to the creases at the corners of her eyes, from her temples to her ears, and wrinkled her graceful neck and collarbone.

“You are going to be mother to many children.” She said.

The authority she announced this statement with shook Charlotte to her core. She felt something had happened in her innermost being. It was unsettling. Almost amorous. Like she had just been touched internally.  She reasoned back then that it was a simple hormonal flush. It seemed cold and warm all at the same time. It was as if electricity had flowed into her organs. She had released a sigh back then, all those years ago when she was just a 20 something thinking how she would love a child, but one day. Maybe. 

If only she was able.



In my Christian writers post at the beginning of this year I had written :

As writers we have the opportunity to provide the gift of ‘a different narrative’ that blesses others with sustainable and engaging hope-empowerment: One about changing the world. After all, core to our faith existence is ‘good’ news.

 

 

On Good Friday this year I wrote :

Just as children reflect, grow and flourish in the love and life they receive in the nurture of their family. Just like how little Lilliana (our Grand daughter) is loved by her Mummy and Daddy, an astounding testament of poured out, sacrificial love through the battles for health to bring life. I pause today to be grateful for Saviour's love. May my life and living be an abundant testament of this Love. May my living be a shalom of established, radical, justice-bringing, humble, kindnesses. May I be like this little bundle of blessing: simply bringing joy in our lives.

 


I love telling stories of how our community and others are addressing issues, the ways being attempted to fix things, the change being made, and stories about the people being helped and helping others. The truth is, how we tell a story has the ability to either give or take power away from us, our view of reality and therefore, who we become.

 

 

On March 30th 2023 (Our Daughter shared more of her story):

 

“For those who are curious, I got my results back today from my PET Scan, and they confirm that I’m in remission!”

 

As my wife and I sat in the glow of the closing day our daughter's message washed over us like the waves caressing the rocks at the Mooloolaba Spit. 

Our  sunset walk will forever be memorialised not for the beauty of day's end , and not just the end of the battle, but that a joy-filled new season of life is assured



My response :

 "Simply so thankful. And LOVE YOU. and so thankful for and Love you ALL.

All Creation may be groaning, here in you is a JOY and Grace that is Simply an astounding testament of embracing through battles. Standing apart is never alone. Together with each of you as a family. All of us as family. Friendship enlivened to a resurrection hope. A redemption realised. A strength emboldened. Together in a war. We stand together. We would no matter what . The family of dolphins that just rose here in the sunset testify too. Kiss of Heaven. Creator's breath. Healer's touch. Saviour's love. All our love. Thankyou ."

Shalom

 


Now faith is the assurance (title deed, confirmation) of things hoped for (divinely guaranteed), and the evidence of things not seen [the conviction of their reality—faith comprehends as fact what cannot be experienced by the physical senses].

Hebrews 11:1

Thursday, 9 April 2020

The Lamb that was Slain

This Easter will be like none we've experienced in many decades, but one thing is certain: The DIVINE MESSAGE of love and hope it commemorates IS eternal, from yesterday, for today, tomorrow, and forevermore. 

As per the admin team's consensus, it was my intention to search for an appropriate 'Blast from the Past" and post that link in the Facebook Group. However, as I found and read the following words and poem - written by our current CWD group co-ordinator, Jeanette O'Hagan, and first posted on Thursday, 10th April, 2014,  as a blog titled, "The Bunny and the Lamb" - I felt it more appropriate to post a portion of it here, scheduled for today, so that all our blog subscribers could receive it afresh. 

xx Mazzy Adams



Image by congerdesign from Pixabay

 
Six years ago, Jeanette O'Hagan asked the question: 

"I wonder what Easter means for you?"

She went on to say:

"For me it is a time of reflection and wonderment - that the incarnated divine Son would die for me. It tells me how much God loves and values me. It reminds me that I have new life through Jesus, that He can and will mend the brokenness inside of me and that He is a present and powerful.

Easter is an intensely personal. It is both sobering as I think of Jesus on the cross on Good Friday - and exhilarating as I remember that He is Alive - that He has conquered sin (human brokenness) and death itself.

Easter has cosmic as well as personal implications.  It is the turning point of the Story of God and therefore the story of our world. Through the eyes of faith, we can see that Easter is the very crux of history. The Bible tells us that story. Yes, it tells many other things about history, morality, worship, spirituality and reality but running through its pages is a love story - God's love for his broken creation - for his broken people. 

It is a simple story - the eternal triune God created the cosmos. He created humans to care for his creation and to be his friends. But the very first humans rebelled against God, deciding to go their own way so that now they and their world became broken. Instead of destroying us and starting again, God decided to rescue us - through calling a people to show who He was and what he wanted. And then He came, the incarnated Son who died in our place. On the cross, the Son won a decisive victory against death and all evil. He has entrusted his people who believe and follow Him with a mission - of not just living lives worthy of Him in faith and love but of taking His message of freedom and love to the furthest corners of the earth - and to the person next door. One day He will make new the whole cosmos and make a home for His people. 

Easter is not just for me or you - it's for everyone.


The Lamb That Was Slain

A flower nodding in the crevice of a rock
New growth after rain.
The sun’s blushed fire climbing above the horizon
A Lamb that was slain.

Praise God who brings beauty, life and hope
In the midst of the world’s cloying darkness.
A world reclaimed at Golgotha, Skull Rock
By the Lamb that was slain.

Before the sun’s fire ignited and
Craggy cliffs rose above the ocean waves,
Before humanity’s ancient parents stumbled
And brother shed brother’s blood,
Father God planned a people reclaimed.

A new perspective, a life regained
Admitting failure, weakness and pain.
We take on His life, walking in faith
Receiving the Spirit’s renewing fire
Sent out by the Lamb that was slain.

The Lamb’s restored people join hands
In prayer and praise.
An emaciated child is given bread and hope
Broken lives are knitted together again
And a message of love and new life spreads like soft rain
Hands, Feet and Heart of the Lamb that was slain.

Earth trembles, nation wars against nation
Tribal enmities ignite, hate inflames
Tall towers and silvery screens pursue greed and fame
The lamb’s people divided, too often lead astray
Awaiting the coming of the Lamb that was slain.

Fruit redolent on the healing tree
Life giving water flowing through brilliant bridal city
Father’s noon-day light shining on pearl and diamond
Spirit healing, tears wiped and death disappearing
The Lamb as Lion victorious reigns.

Praise God who brings beauty, life and hope
In the midst of the world’s cloying darkness.
A world reclaimed at Golgotha, Skull Rock
By the Lamb that was slain."

(Jeanette O’Hagan ©2002, 2014)



Image by Jeff Jacobs from Pixabay

It is my earnest prayer that Jenny's words will bring comfort and encouragement to you anew as we spend this Easter in the quietness, solitude, and safety of our homes. Let us all lift our eyes and our hearts toward the Lamb of God who was slain from before the foundation of the world; he who poured himself out for our salvation; the risen Lord who daily rises as the Sun of Righteousness with healing in his wings. 
Mazzy.



Monday, 21 August 2017

Cheese Hunting




I recently read one of those Facebook memory posts. You know the type. Here's something you posted two years ago; why don’t you repost it?
I chose not to repost. Not because it wasn’t relevant. It was very relevant. In fact I could have written it this week. I didn’t post it because a) no one would want to hear it again and b) I found it confronting.
Ever feel like the cliché ‘going around the mountain one more time’ applies to you? Well this was that kind of moment.
In the post I asked for prayer because of health and work frustrations – frustrations almost identical to those that pushed me to tears this week. Now prayer is good. It is one of the most powerful forces on earth and essential to our relationship with our loving God. It is also a way we can help one another. Writing, while lots of fun, can be a lonely business and online communities like CWD can be a place of invaluable support. Life throws a plethora of plot twists at us and many in this group have asked others to stand in the gap while they negotiated a difficult chapter in their life. Asking for prayer is good. What isn’t good is that my situation hadn’t changed at all.
Who wants to read a story where the protagonist makes no progress and continues in the same story loop chapter after chapter?
Now there are some things that we can’t change. Health issues are often beyond our control. I believe our God longs to heal us but I also know that healing is a mystery. I’m still believing and still trying things. Like many others in this community, I’ve known God’s strength and sustaining power – but I haven’t seen the breakthrough. Yet.
But what of career? The day job issue is a biggie for us creative types. We often need it to make ends meet and it can give us a sense of satisfaction and social connection – yet it can work against us too. I still work part time in a physical profession and have experienced niggling injuries and other issues that make it hard to be creative in my downtime. Much of my mountain circling has involved this cycle of frustration.
Now this frustration is understandable but to still be in the same position two years down the track and not having made changes? That’s not as understandable. If you never make changes how do you expect things to change?
There is a popular motivational book called ‘Who Moved My Cheese’. The story features two little human characters, ‘Hem’ and ‘Haw’ and two mice, ‘Sniff’ and ‘Scurry’. The mice and humans pair up and eventually find lots of cheese (a symbol of happiness and success) at Cheese Station C. When the cheese runs out Sniff and Scurry head off to look for other cheese but the two humans stay behind getting grumpy with each other. Haw wants to look for more cheese but Hem finds his old routine comforting and he’s afraid to try anything different. All he wants is for the cheese to come back. Of course it doesn’t. Eventually Haw sees his own fear and writes on the wall, ‘what would you do if you weren’t afraid?’ Haw heads off and finds crumbs of cheese. He takes them back to Hem who (spoiler) refuses them. Eventually Haw finds a new supply of cheese. Then he hears a sound. Could it be Hem looking for cheese?
So… the call to action? Well I’m not brave, but this post is about me joining Haw in writing on the wall, ‘What would I do if I wasn’t afraid?’ I’ve got some thoughts and I’ll keep you posted as to what happens but I’m determined not to be in the same position by the three year anniversary of that original post. If I am then please feel free to hit me over the head with a very large round of Camembert.
But if I’m in this situation now then there must be others who are stuck too. Are you scared because someone has moved your cheese? Or do you see the signs that your cheese is running out and you don’t know what to do? Let me know in the comments below.
Maybe we can go cheese hunting together ☺?


Reference: 
Johnson, spencer, Who Moved My Cheese?: An Amazing Way to Deal With Change In Your Work and In Your Life. New York : Putman, 1998. Print.

Check out the YouTube video 'Who Moved My Cheese?' https://youtu.be/16hxCB1Dvd4






Sue Jeffrey was born in Scotland but moved to Brisbane, Australia with her family when she was just a wee lass. After a childhood spent reading, drawing and accumulating stray animals, Sue studied veterinary science and later moved to Adelaide where she worked as both a vet and a pastor. After a sojourn of several years in the Australian Capital Territory, Sue returned to Adelaide with two dogs, a very nice husband, and a deep desire to write. Sue has a MA in creative writing and her short stories and poems have appeared in several anthologies including Tales of the Upper Room, Something in the Blood: Vampire Stories With a Christian Bite, Glimpses of Light and A Chicken Can Make a Difference. Sue won the 'Short' category in the inaugural Tabor Adelaide/ Life FM 'Stories of Life' award and her e-book, 'Ruthless The Killer: A Short Story,' is available from Amazon.com. Sue also paints animal portraits
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Monday, 22 June 2015

CALLED BY NAME - Mazzy Adams

One of the great joys of having children is the fun of choosing their names; at least, it becomes a joy once you get past the wrangling (as in ‘will Great Grandpa Gatsby ever forgive us for calling our son Scott Fitzgerald G.?’).  

When my husband and I chose names for our children, we opted for meanings which represent our prayerful desires and prophetic blessings for them, believing that every time we call them by name, our prayers and blessings are reiterated. How delighted we are that our adult children embody the very blessings we bestowed.

Name choices are significant for writers too. Character names, book names – we have to choose names more often than the average Jo. I have written stories with characters that seemed to name themselves. Other times I’ve gone searching for the ‘right’ name. Often my choice is influenced by the meaning of the name.


Sometimes, we rename ourselves. There are numerous blogs and articles on the subject of authors’ pseudonyms and the reasons for them. I was happy publishing under my own name, until I wrote THAT story; one that had to be written; one that begged to be published; one that spoke to the power of God’s grace to heal victims of physical and sexual abuse; one that spoke of the overwhelming responsibility every adult has to protect our children from predators; one that challenged the wall of silence that has kept many adults, myself included, isolated in a room of pain, filled with unspeakable memories.  If only that story was fiction. But it wasn’t. It was the all-too-true story of my childhood.  

Writing THAT story was also a turning point for me; one that brought healing as I wrote it, and more healing as I shared it with my siblings. So, did I really need to publish it? As I prayed and agonised over that question, the answer was a clear yes. Not because the world needed another story about abuse. But because there can never be enough stories about the power that positive action, repentance, forgiveness and reconciliation have to overthrow evil and release healing, wholeness, and goodness again. You see, the man that abused me as a child, died the same day he truly repented of his sins against me; in his place, I received a loving father who would also be a wonderful grandfather to the very end of his days. For that reason, when my story, Releasing Rainbows, was chosen for publication in the inaugural issue of Snapdragon, A Journal of Art and Healing, I used my pseudonym.  



I prayed much about that name choice too.  After all, God’s an old hand at name-changing: Abram/Abraham, Sarai/Sarah, Jacob/Israel and Simon/Peter all had name changes at his instigation. In each case, their names were changed to reflect God’s calling and plan for their futures. God had a bigger vision for them than they or their parents had had. He wanted to call that future into being, and keep calling it in until it blossomed to his glory.  With that in mind, I chose the pen-name Mazzy Adams; Mazzy which means ‘precious’, and Adams to represent all humanity; a new name to call into being a specific hope and purpose: to write stories which will bring blessing, encouragement, healing, wholeness and goodness to every precious person that reads them. After all, God is in the business of making people new again.     

How do you choose names for your literary characters? Do you consider the meaning and blessing (or curse) inherent in those names? Have you thought of using a pen-name, perhaps one that speaks God's calling into your work? God himself is known by many names; each represents his perfect qualities present and active as his name is uttered. Great Author of Life, will you please write your perfect desires into our literary lives too?



If you would like to read Releasing Rainbows by Mazzy Adams, it can be found in the inaugural issue of Snapdragon: A Journal of Art and Healing, an online journal filled with dynamic and uplifting poetry, images and creative non-fiction pieces that reflect the healing journey.  http://www.snapdragonjournal.com/store/p3/The_Inaugural_Issue,_March_2015.html  


Wednesday, 7 November 2012

Soothing Raw Nerves

Earlier today my youngest boy decided he would attempt to ride my husband's bike; needless to say, things didn't work the way he planned and he ended up squished under several kilo's of bike frame, tyres and greasy chains.

I performed my motherly duties - cleaned the cuts, wiped away tears, soothed with ice cream and sprinkles - and carried on with the day's tasks. Before long he was giggling and laughing; that's when I noticed it. The second tooth along the bottom of his sweet little jaw-line was no longer cute and square-shaped, but had been broken, making it sharp and fang-like! As I made closer inspection of the injury I realised - due to the tiny red dot I could see in the centre - that the break had indeed exposed the tooth's nerve.

Thankfully for my little shark-boy it doesn't seem to be causing him any pain and can be treated with a simple dab of fluoride toothpaste; often this is not the case. Leaving raw nerves exposed can cause sudden flares of intense pain. We then start to avoid using the injured body part out of fear, becoming less able to function in the process. To become free of this cycle we need to treat the cause - the raw nerve.

And isn't this just so much like life? We decide to give something a try and it doesn't come off; buying a house, a career change, just getting through each day is a challenge for many of us. Quite often we end up like my boy, squashed under a mountain of hurt, rejection, failure and many other things; sometimes the crash is minor and we get up and brush ourselves off, but at other times it damages us and exposes a nerve or two. We begin to avoid the things that make us hurt; taking risks, daring to try again, anything that would bring on the pain.

I am convinced that God has more for us than a life lived cowering behind the raw nerves of our souls. And I believe that he will use us - unashamed Christians who write from the perspective that God loves each individual in this world - to share the very best balm of soul-healing to all who read our words.

We read in Proverbs 16:24,

Gracious words are a honeycomb, sweet to the soul and healing to the bones. (NIV)

What an absolute blessing it is to be appointed a writer for God! And in a world that is full of lies, deception and false hope, his Word of truth is needed all the more. 

Be encouraged today as you write; trust that God will use the talents he has chosen to give to you to bring his supernatural healing to someone . . . somewhere . . . somehow.

Blessings,


Helen