Dance

The sounds of birds singing and wind chimes blowing gracefully awaken me as the sun peeks over the mountains to bid me good morning. There's nothing quite like a northern New Mexico sky!
Beautiful mental pictures of each new day, or perhaps you enjoy an equally inviting morning wake up call. Nature can be arresting, calming, and most definitely sparks the creative forces within writers. But, it's not always this way.

I suffer from the effects of cumulative brain injuries, and the last threw a devastating blow, knocking my spine out of alignment and filling my brain with obnoxious, ceaseless noises. Depression threatens my peace, and on the best of days, when the pain is not as cruel, it still tries to wiggle itself into my consciousness and bring fear and loneliness. It's caused by a chemical misfire in my brain, much like that created from other forms of mental illness, and it is indeed cruel and can be quite debilitating. So don't be so quick to judge when you encounter these symptoms or "labels" in others. Honestly, I love all people, and I don't care what "condition" society or the medical world has linked to their names. We are human beings, with feelings and needs just like anyone else in this world.

Sadly, I am so involved with my job that I don't take the time to listen to all the news that is happening in the world. I get a little sick and tired of hearing of "illegal aliens" as if we are infested with lizard like flesh eaters who are annihilating the globe. We act as if we are too "special" or good to help others in time of need. But that's exactly what God expects every spirit-filled believer to do! Jesus is our example, and He spent time with lepers, prostitutes, tax collectors, filthy fishermen with equally unclean mouths spouting vulgar words. But Jesus transformed them all, and He can transform us and change our cold, stony hearts into something beautiful and praiseworthy if we allow Him into our lives.

Across the globe the innocent suffer deplorable circumstances, as we tuck our little ones into bed each night under cozy, warm blankets and hand them a teddy bear to snuggle into a carefree slumber as we read them fairy tales and whisper "I love you."

Compare this with the scenes at the border...children in cages, separated from their parents, and the only thing they have to keep them warm is a solar blanket so kindly offered by their cruel and inhuman jailers. "Don't be so quick to judge," you say, "they're only following orders." I couldn't and I wouldn't. I'd be shoved into a cage beside them for insubordination or shipped over the border into the hands of equally merciless captors, all because I would not conform to evil. That's just my way, and if you'd like to check my job record, you'll discover, I'm not just saying it, I've done it...more than once!

Let's look at this from another perspective...the affluent people who live across the border shouting obscenities at the United States Government, some Americans living in Mexico, when they haven't lifted a hand to "share the wealth" with the less fortunate much less approach the border to offer assistance. I'm sick to death of hearing of multiple homes, another new car in a fleet of many, and endless vacations or spur of the moment jaunts across the nation, only to read the latest post on Facebook condemning our government leaders. Why don't we see that we each can help make a difference if we would be willing to loosen the purse strings. I guess an added luxury is a necessity where food for the hungry or clothing for the naked or reuniting a parent with a lonely, despairing, helpless child is not.

But you don't have to look far from home to find poverty and the basic needs unmet. This week I traveled to a home, two hours from my own. I was met with warmth and welcomed into this dwelling with open arms and a larger heart. The house sits in a community at the edge of town in a small lot of dirt and weeds, plus the neighbors' trash littering the yard. At the sidewalk I have to go around a weed that's overtaken the area. The structure of the home I am told is still good, but the outside appearance of the place is enough to bring tears to my eyes. The screens on the windows are frayed, loosened from the base and blowing in the breeze, the house is peeling in desperate need of a coat of paint, and the gutters sag. Across the street is a church, and all around are neatly manicured homes. Inside the home across the street is another lonely human, tormented from time spent in wars in service to our country, fearsome when he hears a helicopter or a plane cross the sky. But, that's another story.

As I go into the house I see gifts the resident has received from friends who adore her. The house is sparsely adorned and the walls free of any decorations other than a photo here and there, carpet worn and furniture minimal, but sufficient for her needs. As I am welcomed in with a huge smile and warm embrace, I go into the kitchen to put down the things I've purchased. I look around, and my heart breaks a bit more. I see dirty dishes, a small piece of soap and empty dish detergent bottle, filled with water to make the soap clinging to the sides of the bottle last a bit longer. The refrigerator is broken, the oven and two burners are out on the stove, and the water heater has to be coaxed to give a little warmth to the water to bathe each day. Still I am welcomed like royalty into this humble home. It's her birthday in two days, and she's excited to see me. She's so grateful for the little gifts I've brought along. Not much really just things I know that mean a lot to her...note cards and stationary, as I know she enjoys writing notes to friends, giving encouragement and sharing God's love. A couple of little dishes, as I know she loves to give Hershey's kisses to folks who bring her groceries and deliver her mail. And a devotional journal to bring strength and encouragement to her when the pain's too intense or the visits too few or the bills piling up or the landlord demanding his money. She lives in fear of the landlord who hasn't been to see her in well over ten years, who calls only on occasions, and who doesn't seem to mind if something goes broken or unpainted. Interested in the identity of this innocent, lovable, selfless resident?  She's my daughter. She asks so little, and she gives so much, and the crazy thing is that she is content to live as she does. All she wants is to be healed of the diseases in her body and pain that plagues her life. Oh, and she wants to be loved, just as she is, because she's never felt good enough or pretty enough to be accepted. Still, she sees the beauty in all humanity, even when they are unkind to her.

She's judged by those who feel she's made poor choices in life, but the ones who think this way actually know very little about her and don't bother to really ask. It's easier to judge, to make decisions based on appearances. We all know appearances can be deceiving and usually are, but still we fall prey to making them. I help her as much as my paycheck stretches and sometimes further. I've managed to sock away a little money for a future purchase of a home for myself, her, my sons and anyone else who needs a safe haven, but she's still reluctant to leave the sanctuary of the home she's lived in since she was a teenager, when we moved to New Mexico with the dream of a new beginning. Dreams fail sometimes...many times. I see that daily. I wish things were different, but her fear and pain run too deeply. So I wait. My life is always on hold, but that's the way God wants it. For now at least.

I've lived much of my life in pain. As a child I was always sick with migraine headaches and weak from unknown conditions. My mama used to tell me I couldn't do this or that, because I was too sick. I really didn't listen to that as a small child, so I climbed trees, journeyed into the woods, and did all manner of gutsy things against the wishes of my mama. I lived, many times in fear of the repercussions, but I lived nonetheless. I went to school whether I had a headache or abdominal pains or other symptoms that followed at a later age. If I had to lie down in the office for a little while, I would, but I always went back to class. In the sixth grade my teacher told me that I wasn't as smart as my brother, so that shut me down a bit from trying to do better. After my friend was killed in an accident at age 15, I woke up and decided I'd show them, and I did. I graduated from high school with honors, but even so, I still never felt like I measured up.

I had aspirations as a child, but I was always frustrated and backed down, because I felt as if I wasn't good enough or strong enough. After all, I had to obey my parents, and I was being told I couldn't do it or my ideas to help others were silly. I shut down as a teenager, and I lost the pluck I had as a child in awe of the wonder of God all around me. How I'd marvel at the beauty of His handiwork in the heavens and the majesty of His creation. I can still see myself, full of curiosity as I beheld the glory all around me. The illnesses I would much later learn came from immune deficiency disorders that I later passed on to my children, especially my daughter, and the focus problem stemmed from a crack in my occipital lobe at the age of three or four at the hands of an alcoholic uncle bouncing me off his knees into the corner of a marble table. Blurry vision keeps one from being able to see the blackboard in the back of a room, and one tends to lose focus when the brains are rattled at an early age. But, still I showed them! I'm not so dumb after all.

Why am I telling you all of this? I don't know, perhaps in frustration at the senselessness of the things happening around us. Or maybe to open your eyes to how blessed a life can be in spite of the difficulties that surround mishaps or tragedies or the unkind words of teachers and other adults who mold our futures. There is a cure to all of this devastation, and it is within your grasp.

This morning I didn't give into the voice of depression. Rather, I tuned into the voice of my Abba Father who loves me with an everlasting love. I didn't despair over the things I could have done, but I see the things I still can do with His guidance and strength leading me each day as I listen to His voice. I read testimonies of His goodness from people who had it much worse and find a reason to praise Him and give Him glory. Why? Because He's everything to us! He's in every fiber of our being! He hears our cries and sees our tears, and He does answer. He ALWAYS answers. Just listen. It's just not always what we want to hear, but it is the best, because that's all He knows to do...give His best...His all!

So, I put on the music that awakens my praise...God's Great Dance Floor and the other songs from Chris Tomlin's Passion Tour with Lauren Daigle and a host of artists from all nationalities singing How Great Is Our God! I danced and I laughed and I sang and praised until I thought my heart would burst into a world of color and sparkles. Like a child I turned round and round, and I jumped and clapped. The physical pain in my body increased, but it didn't matter. I was alive! In His Presence with a host of believers across the world, every tribe, every dialect praising and worshiping the God of all creation. It's a prescription I recommend as a doctor of the heart and mind. Give yourself as many doses of praise, laughter, and light as you need every day. It works!

This is my life. This is my daughter's life. We go on. We fight the lies of fear, because as the song goes, "Fear is a liar!" Believe it. Don't give into it. Fight it. Love those who persecute you, even if they are supposed to be the ones who love you or give birth to you. Love them and pray they find Jesus. Pray they open their eyes to the cruelty and inhumanity around them. Pray they stop giving lip service and actually DO something. Pray we all do. I want to. I try, and I will keep trying as long as I have breath in this pain-wracked body and my noisy head allow. Ya see I have a lot of fight still left in this almost 68 year old body, and I intend to use my dimming vision to clearly focus on what needs doing. I'm going to speak up and fight for the rights of the disadvantaged. I'm going to reach deep into my pockets and pull out the coins that can help feed a hungry person or clothe the naked or reunite a child with his parent. I'm going to love my daughter and my sons and all the people in my life. And I'm going to dance until my aching body can only wiggle a single toe or finger. And I know that she will be right beside me doing the same.