Plot twist.
IT BEGINS LAST FRIDAY.
My husband and I spend hours in ER — again — this time, for him. Eventually, the doctor diagnoses Dreamer with a TIA, or mini-stroke. The man speaks kindly and clearly, with seasoned authority, knowledge, and long experience.
I remind him that he recently diagnosed me with Hydronephrosis. And that he recommended a followup ultrasound.
He grins, as if That’s why you look familiar.
“You’re a gift to our family,” I say. “God-given.”
He grins all the more. I glimpse him as a boy dreaming of one day healing the sick.
Then he’s a pro again, referring Dreamer to the stroke clinic, mentioning additional tests might reveal something else.
It’s as if authority reconnects to joy — with a whisper of humility. He’s saying he might be wrong.
ON TUESDAY the stroke doctor poses new questions, orders more tests. She suspects Dreamer endured a seizure rather than a stroke. She wants to investigate possible epilepsy.
And Parkinson’s.
Whoa. Didn’t see that coming.
LATER, THE SAME DAY, a jolt of good news: my ultrasound results come back clean: no kidney blockage. (Thank you, friends, for your prayers!)
I also chance to read Eugene Peterson’s introduction to Thessalonians. This line arrests me:
“[C]ontinue to live forward in taut and joyful expectancy for what God will do next in Jesus.”
Perhaps that word “taut” refers to our latest plot twist, one of those sideswiping events we humans encounter now and then, stress plus relentless, wrenching s-t-r-e-t-c-h.
So, how to rise above circumstances? Sustain “joyful expectancy”?
In Luke 10, The Message quotes Jesus as saying, “The great triumph is not in your authority over evil, but in God’s authority over you and presence with you. Not what you do for God but what God does for you — that’s the agenda for rejoicing.”
Author Brian Doyle jokes he never understood the word “humble” until his wife married him.
Then … they had three children.
“Of course, you do your absolute best,” he writes, “to reach out tenderly to touch and elevate as many people as you can reach.
“But you cannot control anything.
“All you can do is face the world with quiet grace and hope you make a sliver of difference.”
Doyle goes on to say humility is not about groveling or timid, milquetoast resignation or indifference.
“It’s more a calm recognition that you must trust in that which does not make sense … by the measure of most of our culture.
“You must trust that … trying to be an honest and tender parent will echo for centuries through your tribe.
“That being an attentive and generous friend and citizen will prevent a thread or two of the social fabric from unraveling.”
The author then quotes his brother who memorably quipped, “Humility, the final frontier.”
Doyle suggests that we either “walk toward love or away from it with every breath we draw,” and describes himself “… trying to leave shreds and shards of ego along the road like wisps of litter and chaff.”
Here’s an abridged, interactive prayer you might like. First published in 1936, it was written by John Baillie, a Scottish theologian entrusted with numerous positions of authority, and a believer whose prayers breathe out humility and joy.
“Lord, let my first thought each day be of Thee,
let my first impulse be to worship Thee,
let my first speech be Thy name,
my first action, prayer.
For Thy perfect wisdom and goodness:
I praise and worship Thee, Lord.
For Thy love for all:
I praise and worship Thee, Lord.
For Thy love for me, and for the indwelling of Thy Spirit:
I praise and worship Thee, Lord.
For the great and mysterious opportunity of my life:
I praise and worship Thee, Lord.
Let me not, when this prayer is said, think my worship ended and spend the day in forgetfulness. Rather from these moments of quietness let light go forth, and joy, and power, that will remain with me through all the hours of the day.
Keeping me mindful … and truthful:
Faithful … and grateful …
Humble and generous …
Amen and amen.”
Authority, humility, joy. Oh, I have so much to learn!
The last word, of course, always belongs to God:
“This is the one to whom I will look. The one who is humble and contrite in spirit and trembles at my word” (Isaiah 66:2).
Are you moving toward these days, or away from it?
P.S. For all who prayed: our unending thanks. We are able to live in our home again!
For all who wish to pray: For a diagnosis and for our health, hope, and stamina.
Brian Doyle, One Long River of Song
John Baillie, A Diary of Private Prayer
(prayer abridged and adapted by yours truly for this post)
Catch up on our story here:
When you read this . . .
Resilience, under Siege
Photo by Andrea De Santis on Unsplash
Dearest Laurie, Sending prayers for you and Dreamer. And prayers of thanksgiving for this beautiful and inspiring post.
So grateful for your prayers, Judith. Thank you, thank you!
You and Dreamer are showing us what it means to take one step at a time–in faith. I continue to pray for wisdom and strength as you navigate what is ahead; praising God with you that you’re back in your own home!
Dear Nancy, as ever, you lift my gaze. Thanks for also lifting up praise for our homecoming! It’s so good good good to be back.
Blessed by your faith, shoring up mine at key moments, friend. Thank you.
We’re shoring up each other, Laurie!
Dear Laurie and Dreamer ~ I knew epilepsy; I can and will pray for Bill. And for you to experience daily that you walk in Christ’s body, in Him. All He is and has is yours ♥ Discouragement and questions don’t lead away from Love when we are gazing at Him. Much love and prayer in the Spirit for you both in this season, a day at a time.
Oh Nancy, there’s a story there. Thank you for speaking solidarity from experience as well as faith. And for the gentle reminder that honesty needn’t distance us from Love “when we are gazing at Him.”
So so grateful for your wisdom and caring. Thank you.
Oh, Laurie…you have been on my mind and I’ve prayed as the Holy Spirit nudged me.
I’m so grateful for (tele) communication in that way.
Two things–I have copied that Brian Doyle essay and given it to many, many people… Such a powerful one on humility!
Also–when I read this paragraph, “Perhaps that word “taut” refers to our latest plot twist, one of those sideswiping events we humans encounter now and then, stress plus relentless, wrenching s-t-r-e-t-c-h.”
I thought of the word ‘taught;’ pondering all God has taught you through these impossibly difficult times, and for the ways you have shared that with us.
Praising God you are back in your home–what a wonder.
I am so moved by your responses to those nudges. Thank you!
And thank you for setting the homonym alongside Eugene’s “taut.” More layers of encouragement and revelation.
Thanks for celebrating our homecoming, friend! It is such a deep joy to be here again.
Faith , courage , trust . Prayers for you and Dreamer Laurie .
Larry, how great to hear from you today. Thank you! And maybe I hold fast to those three beautiful words: faith, courage, trust.
So grateful for your prayers, friend. Thank you!
🙏🏽🙏🏽🙏🏽
Angela, thank you for your prayers! Wishing you safe journeys, seaward and shoreward!
Thanks for sharing your path. We fondly remember our time together whenever we sing “I love you Lord”.
Currently we’re sailing west across the Atlantic Ocean to Florida. We have a morning 8am Bible study in which we’re reading the gospel of Mark and discussing it without leaving the text.
Tim, thank you for writing amidst your great sailing adventure!
Sending smiles of remembrance for times shared, Laurie
All you can do is face the world with quiet grace and hope you make a sliver of difference
A co-worker, known for his deep religious faith, often the butt of my anti-establishment beliefs about religion, once referred to me as a “humble man”. It put me into shock, but I tried to take it in stride. It was, at least from what I took away from his comment, a compliment. Your quote above gives me another goal to shoot for – as I move forward into the final quarter of my expectancy with a quiet good humor, – to hope that I can still make a sliver of a difference. – And then, after reading an article about DOING in our later years, the question of “How many summers do you have left?” because, around here, summers are all that count. Then, firing back, you hit me with “Humility, the final frontier…” these ideas are now playing dodgeball in my head – Thank you, my dear Ms. Klein.
I too believe it was meant as a compliment, one that does not surprise me at all.
I love this: “as I move forward into the final quarter of my expectancy with a quiet good humor …” Bet I could spin a post or a poem about renaming the road ahead “expectancy”!
Let me know what comes of the mental dodgeball game?
The dodgeball game is ongoing . . . no time outs, no halftime, no intermission.
I have really come to believe that we get what we expect if we look at the big picture. Not that any of us expect ALL of what we get, like mold, TIAs, etc.
HOWEVER,”If one advances confidently in the direction of his dreams, and endeavors to live the life which he has imagined, he will meet with a success unexpected in common hours” HDT(Walden)
I am so moved to read that quote from Thoreau this evening. Thank you. It’s heartening. Hopeful, without fanfare.
Here’s to making another sliver of difference in the final quarter, my friend . . . dodging the stuff coming at us, sharing our sense of humor . . .
Those moments when your life is going one direction and then turns completely the other direction are breathtaking. Hearing the words, “You have breast cancer” were shocking. Thankfully, they were followed by God’s voice saying, “You will be okay”
Oh, Carol, what mercy upon mercy, to hear that assurance with such immediacy! May I assume its past history and that you are well, my friend?
Thinking of you, Laurie. Oh, and that is good news about your home. [hugs]
Dear L.L.,
Thanks for rejoicing with us! And thank you for your thoughts, always dear to me.
Hope you are thriving, my friend!