Month: March 2019

“Can you take my leg out to the car?” Let’s just add that statement to about 100 different comments I never thought I would hear anyone in my family ever utter. To fully explain, let’s rewind a few years. I turned ‘50’ years old in 2014. Wow! That sounds really old when you type it out in sentence form. While the changing of a decade is a milestone in and of itself, there is another profound reason I consider that a milestone year. I lost my dad to leukemia in late 2014. His loss hit me like a runaway train. I knew we were losing him. I sat by his bedside in hospice and told him it was OK for him to go and we would miss him. I assured him we would be alright. I prayed that God would take him home and stop his suffering. But I didn’t anticipate how his loss would affect me physically and emotionally. You see, because of my mom’s ongoing battle with dementia, Dad was the one who knew my name. So the loss of him was deep, as in “deep end of the pool” deep. I stopped sleeping well. I was irritable. I felt anxious, but also felt the need to appear strong. I began experiencing panic attacks. That season of life was very, very difficult. But the enduring lesson I learned during that season was not that time heals all wounds. The lesson I learned was that time simply moves you further away from the pain. You CAN smile again. You CAN live again. Really live.

Every year in December I ask God to give me a word for the upcoming year, a word that will provide focus for me as I look ahead. On December 25, 2015, as I was packing my suitcase in San Antonio, Texas, God clearly gave me my word for 2016. WARRIOR. I felt immediate panic. The word “Warrior’, in my mind, invoked thoughts of battles fought and maybe battles lost. My response to God? In typical Lori fashion I told him, “I don’t like that word. Can’t you give me another word, one that’s not quite so scary? “I think God smiled at me that day, his impudent child. But he stood firm and I begrudgingly marched ahead, head-down with steely resolve, into 2016.

That’s why, sitting in church one Sunday morning in early 2016 when my husband, the Music Man, mentioned some stomach discomfort, I’m surprised I didn’t give his complaints much thought. What proceeded, through December 2016, was a strings of surgeries and complications that confined my Music Man to bed and caused him to lose 100 pounds as he fought his way back to wellness. Honestly, there was a moment during all of that chaos that I thought we might lose him. But God was so kind and so merciful. He healed the Music Man. I realized during that time of illness that God hadn’t called me to be a warrior to fight my own battle, but to be a prayer warrior for my husband. God knew that he would need someone standing in the gap, lifting him up in prayer when he was too weak to pray himself. So I fought and prayed, along with an intimate group of other prayer warriors who joined us faithfully in the battle.

There are a couple of Hebrew words that describe that season of life for me. Those words are “Ezer Kenegdo”. These are the words in the bible that were used to describe Eve when God created her for Adam. These words can be interpreted as helper, or helpmate. But the word “Ezer” can also mean “Warrior”. (Coincidence? I don’t think so.) There are only a couple times in the bible that this word is used in this manner. One is to describe Eve at creation. One is to describe God, in the Psalms, as the warrior who fights for his people. The word “Kenegdo” means coming alongside intimately, “face-to-face and side-to-side”. As a wife, I am trying to learn to embrace this new, alternative definition of Ezer Kenegdo. I’m a work in progress. I fail often. But I take this new-found understanding of these words and my role seriously. By the way…I don’t have any tattoos. I don’t know that I will ever get one. But if I do ever decide to take the tattoo plunge, guess what my tattoo will say?

I wish I could say this journey was now concluded, but the Music Man’s illness brought a recurrence of my anxiety and panic attacks. The name of this blog site is “The Deep End of the Pool” for a reason. I didn’t feel just like I was in the deep end of a swimming pool. I felt like I was in an abyss. The deepest part of the ocean is called the Mariana Trench in the Pacific Ocean. It is over 36,000 feet deep. It felt like I was living there. When my hair started to fall out, I knew it was time to seek help. My doctor listened compassionately as I poured out my struggles and fears to him. He gently said that he wanted to encourage me to start thinking about taking a medication that would help deal with the anxiety. He suggested an antidepressant medication, telling me I may get to the point when I feel so overwhelmed that I need to take something to help me get through the day. “I’m already there,” I confessed. “Please write the prescription.”

I started feeling better in a few weeks, and within a few months, it was like someone had opened the curtains to let the sunshine in. I had no idea how dark life had become. But I was living again. Really living. It felt amazing. I took the medication for about 15 months and then, when I didn’t need it anymore and in consultation with my doctor, tapered successfully off and eventually stopped taking it altogether. Little did I know what we were about to face…our hardest test as a family yet.

The Music Man struggled with a persistent, chronic foot infection for over 18 months. Suddenly, almost exactly 1 year ago, I received a call from him that rocked our world. I had taken our girls to Florida for Spring Break. He was supposed to meet us there, but instead ended up in the ER. His call that morning was to let me know that he had just received the word that the infection had become so advanced that the physicians felt they had no other alternative but to amputate his foot.

Words can’t describe the emotions. Utter disbelief. Shock. Fear. Feeling like this is all just a bad dream and praying that I would wake up. But it was not a dream. It was reality. The next 24 hours were filled with changing flights and getting home to Tennessee to support our guy.

Let me tell you about the Music Man. He is so very brave and strong. His biggest concern during the entire ordeal was making sure our kids knew that everything was going to be OK. He looked the hard thing in the face and did not blink. The definition of bravery is being scared, but doing the hard thing anyway. That is my guy, and I am so very proud of him.

I prayed Isaiah 40:31 with him before they took him away to surgery. “But those who wait upon God get fresh strength. They spread their wings and soar like eagles. They run and don’t get tired. They walk and don’t lag behind.” ~The Message

Three days after surgery, he was transferred to rehab. But he refused to go unless the rehab promised that he could have a pass to leave that evening so he could go see our son perform in his college musical debut. They agreed, and he went. The photo at the top of the page was taken the night of that performance.

A few days after arriving at rehab, I got a call from the nurse telling me the Music Man had fallen the night before. He had gotten up and forgotten that he didn’t have a foot, because phantom foot sensation is real, ya’ll. Down to the ground he went. Because he couldn’t get up by himself, he had to call loudly for someone to come help him get up. But do you know what he did the next day in occupational therapy when they asked him what he wanted to work on for that day’s session? He asked them to put him on the floor and teach him how to get up. That’s bravery in action. I love him.

About 8 weeks after surgery, the Music Man got to bring his new leg home. He named the leg Pancho after an old Willie Nelson song entitled, “Pancho and Lefty”. Pancho has now become a part of the family.

So now, here we are back to present day. This warrior wife has fought battles, the Music Man’s and her own. It is true that she has grown weary at times. But she has also grown stronger and more capable in battle. Ultimately, she is more convinced than ever that God is the true “Ezer-Warrior”. I’m so glad the ultimate battle has already been won.

Dolly Parton.  Her name is synonymous with country music, blond wigs, a big smile, and a couple of other big things. 😉  I must confess that I am not a Dolly aficionado.  As a matter of fact, I didn’t know much about her at all until a recent family trip to Pigeon Forge, TN.  Now I am a bona fide fan.

Dolly Rebecca Parton was born, the fourth of twelve children, in a one room cabin in the mountains of East Tennessee.  Her mother was the mom of twelve kids by the time she was thirty-five years old.  Her dad was a preacher.  Dolly was born into the deep end of the pool.  Her family was so very poor.  They probably could not have sunk much lower based on their economic status.  Because they had no money, her dad paid the doctor who delivered her with a bag of corn meal.  She relates one early story where her mother made her a coat from leftover scraps of material, a coat of many colors.  Dolly later wrote one of her best-loved songs about that coat.  A TV movie was even made based on that song, “Coat of Many Colors”. 

Dolly loved music from a young age.  Although she was not a great student academically, she graduated from high school, loaded up her car, and moved to Nashville the day after graduation to pursue her dream of becoming a professional singer.

The rest, as they say, is history.  Dolly Parton is an icon in the music industry.  But she never forgot what it felt like to swim for her life in the deep end of the pool in that little town where she was raised. 

Dolly could have made her millions and rested on her laurels, forgetting her family and the community where she came from.  But once her dream to make music (and movies) was achieved, Dolly kept dreaming.  She became a savvy and successful business woman and a philanthropist.  She once said, “Many an old boy has found out too late that I look like a woman but think like a man.  It is a great mistake to assume that because I look soft, I do business that way.”

My own children benefitted from the Dollywood Foundation literacy program, which provided a new book, mailed to each child monthly, from birth to 5 years of age.   During our recent trip to east Tennessee, I was struck by the poverty that is still prevalent in that area.  But now, due to Dolly’s insistence that jobs be provided to the people who live in Sevierville, Pigeon Forge, and other local cities in the Smoky Mountains, many local residents have found employment through Dollywood, The Dolly Parton Dixie Stampede, and Dolly’s nearby resort.

We stayed at the resort, which is aptly named. “Dream More.”  Not surprisingly, I spent some time dreaming during our trip. I’ve had a number of dreams during my life.  Marriage.  Babies.  Adopting from China.  Singing.  A nursing career.  Moving to Nashville. But this recent trip has challenged me to keep dreaming.  Dolly says, “Find out who you are and do it on purpose.”  Wow!  Who AM I?  The person I am today is different than the person I was yesterday and the person I will be tomorrow.

We all have had dreams at some point in our lives.  Some seem attainable and some seem like pipe dreams, a mirage, or even a delusional daydream. Maybe you think that your time to dream has passed.  But I am here to tell you it’s never too late to have a dream.    I love what the bible says about dreams in Acts 2:17: ‘In the last days,’ God says,     ‘I will pour out my Spirit upon all people.  Your sons and daughters will prophesy.    Your young men will see visions,   and your old men will dream dreams.’

I have gotten very bold with God as I have gotten older.  Bob Goff has said, “Bold prayers honor God and God honors bold prayers.”  So I have learned to be bold when God and I talk.  If I am praying for what I can accomplish on my own, no faith is required.  But if I pray boldly for things that are well outside of my control, that’s where faith in the abilities of a loving Father kicks in. 

I’ll let you decide which group you fall into based on that verse in Acts.  If you see yourself as a young man or woman, ask God to give you a vision for the life he wants you to pursue.  Or ask him to give you a glimpse of his vision for the world, and jump into his world.  If you see yourself as an older man or woman, ask God to give you a fresh dream, one that fulfills your life and allows you to be everything that he created you to be.

We were all put on this earth for a purpose.  It’s time to think about what that purpose is, and to allow ourselves to dream more.  Because as Dolly says, “Dreams are of no value if they’re not equipped with wings.”

Thanks, Dolly.

The deep end of the pool. Have you been there? Have you visited that place where fear and faith meet? Maybe you jumped in voluntarily, feet first and cannonball style, sending a watery spray that made everyone nearby a participant in your deep dive. Maybe you were pushed, not wanting to find your head underwater, but then you discovered that life had other plans. But if you’ve taken the plunge, you know how it feels. The water is cold. It can take your breath away. Because in that place, that deep place of life where reckless courage is sometimes necessary just to survive the day, holy things happen.

“You write well.”

I have heard that phrase for most of my life. Today I heard someone speak about birthright gifts. She was referring to those gifts that are uniquely ours from the time we were small. I realized that one of these gifts for me is putting words to paper. I have always loved writing – whether it be a poem, a short story, or a strong, detailed report. But finding the courage to be vulnerable enough to write about my personal life lessons and my search for wisdom and community scares me. I think that’s why God whispered to me that He wants me to do it. It’s also the reason that I am choosing to listen to and obey that voice. Sometimes the easiest thing to do is to stop fighting the current. So here I go, back into the deep end of the pool again. This time I am going to try to relax and give myself permission to settle into this place that is so outside the zone of what seems comfortable to me. I hope you make the decision to join me here. There are lessons to be learned at the deep end of the pool.