Loaves and Fish

This week offered the privilege of meeting  ‘Sunshine’, the founder of Special Friends Day Camp at Warm Beach Christian Camps and Conference Center. One of the summer’s goals was to help Little Miss Sweetness experience a camp. In the past, many summer programs have come with the tag, “Can she provide her own assistant?” While that has not been impossible, it is another accessibility hurdle, both from a human and a financial resource perspective. To be honest, I have usually chosen to muddle through on our own.

So, I was excited this spring to have one organization say, “It looks like she will need a one-on-one volunteer,” and be prepared to provide that. As the scholarship to pay for the program followed from another community agency, my excitement for what she would experience grew. But, for a variety of reasons, that opportunity fell through, and late June, we were left scrambling to fill the void. It was then I e-stumbled onto Special Friends Day Camp. We had to hula our way through a single hoop, and they said, “Come.”  They even fixed her lunch – all I had to do was get her there, swimsuit and horseback helmet and vaccination report in  hand. It was way too easy…

Through the course of the week, as Little Miss Sweetness swam, rode horses, and made a slew of new friends, I hung around just enough to learn that most of the staff were volunteers, and that the director founded the camp six years ago in the twilight zone of raising a special needs child. What’s that have to do with loaves and fishes? Well, for starters, she didn’t raise a special needs child in a vacuum. But that’s her story. A week ago, I was wondering how to cope with the fact that I often feel I don’t have ENOUGH: not enough hands, when the 4 kids were all under age 8; not enough time when there is such a diversity of interests and opportunities;  not enough energy, when each of the 4, plus spouse, have needs that seemingly require my attention, not enough time, period. And not enough will, when there is still a voice inside my head saying, “What about me???” (yeah, on the worst days there are 3 question marks). We haven’t even talked about the fact that outside the invisible box of our own family is a world plethoric with needs; needs next door and down the street, needs on native soil and in a jungle across the planet. Needs that scripture points to with the indication, ‘This matters…’ So I had gone to God with the question of loaves and fishes, and the horrible sense that mine were mold-pocked and ‘fishy’ instead of fresh and filling; and this week I meet the woman, who in the midst of all that similar mess, founded Special Friends Day Camp. With the support of a few disciples at Warm Beach, she brought one special needs son and a pocketful of energy to God, and He blessed it to feed  hundreds of campers and their families. Six years later, she still wears the camp name Sunshine. On her face, where it counts.

I guess the short version (now that you’ve waded through the long) is that I feel stuck in a roiling cauldron of needs pulling at me: 1) from the perspective of being a wife, mother, daughter (of recently aging parents,) and friend; 2)I feel compelled as a disciple to serve and to trust, in both God’s provision and his strength; and 3) to be frank, I feel weighted by occasional discouragement, honest grief, and transient, but momentum-stealing fatigue and distractability – the need for sustenance. BUT…I do like bread, and fish.

So, after wrestling for a couple weeks with the swirling questions of Energy Conservation toward Vital Ministry in the Face of Overwhelming Need, here’s a reflection compiled from the ‘loaves and fishes’ gospel accounts in Matthew 14, Mark 6, Luke 9 and John 6.

The NEED to feed the 5000 did not come at a convenient time. According to the Mark passage, the disciples had been launched in ministry, and had come back to Jesus over-full of all that had happened, such that he called his disciples, “Come with me by yourselves to a quiet place and get some rest.” Mark 6:31 NIV. And per Matthew 14, this was shortly after the death of John the Baptist; a time when Jesus and his disciples would  seemingly have had grief of their own to process. But the needy followed them to a solitary place, and “Jesus had compassion on them and healed their sick.” Matthew 14:14 NIV. According to Mark 6:34,” …they were like sheep without a shepherd. So he began teaching them many things.” Some were sick…some were wandering aimlessly,dangerously…down the street, across the globe. Inconvenient. So many coming and going that the disciples “did not even have a chance to eat.” Mark 6:31  “What about me??” is down to 2 slightly less whiny question marks.

Jesus already knew what he was going to do when he asked Philip, “Where shall we buy bread…” John 6:5.  Jesus had fed the people eternally when he asked Philip to feed them temporally. Admittedly, there are times when God asks us to participate in the spiritual formation and discipling of others, particularly our children. But he does not ask us to feed everyone, in every way. Nor does he ask us to do the task alone. He invites us to join him in making God known, a felt, real presence in the lives of others. And sometimes he tests us, asking, “Who do you say that I am?” And sometimes, like Philip, he walks us through, step by step: masses, loaves, baskets, pieces.

Jesus, God himself, thanks his Father for the bread. Could be wrong, but I don’t think this is just a demonstration for the people’s benefit. You know how when you are trying to be a good example, you occasionally slip up – self control falters, and kindness, goodness and patience go AWOL? That never seems to happen to Jesus.  The One most entitled to “It’s all about me..” is genuinely thankful for bread, and the privilege of serving – on a hillside, and on a cross.. In John 17, he pleads for the chance to share his glory –  as in,  give it away so you can have some, too. Thankful for bread, and the needy who need it. One less question mark in “What about me?”

Jesus had the people sit down. It is not entirely clear how many disciples were there that day to help with crowd control, but I’ve read enough history to know that the crowds of the day could sway. There was only one Jesus, and in every one of the four Gospel accounts, it includes that Jesus instructed for the crowds to sit down. To wait for their hunger to be met, even while others received the same. (Trying to keep this to a small volume, Friend,  so I will leave  the application to you.)  And…just the dot .

Jesus broke the bread.  When the disciples suggested that he make the people go away to fend for themselves, Jesus replied, “They do not need to go away. You give them something to eat.” Mt. 14:16 In their minds, the disciples saw the  escalating temporal need, compounded by impending darkness. From our humanomic perspective, don’t we do the same? My kids are whole eternal beings in the eyes of a loving God, but for them, I can panic about the most mundane things…or not so mundane. The impending darkness has me running scared at times. But Jesus took what they collectively had-meager as it was, organized them in community, (it sorta sounds like church), gave thanks to his known loving Father, and BROKE the bread. In more than 5 thousand pieces. And they were all satisfied.

There are countless times that I have felt broken, crumbled to the end of myself, in caring for special needs, in being a loving wife, in managing toddler x 3. Jesus took the only physical provision at hand-and he broke it. Sometimes it feels lonely to be so ‘only wanted,’ but Jesus took those carefully packed staples, and fed  not one , but thousands.

Passages following the feeding of the five-thousand indicate that the people still did not recognize Jesus for who he was. In Mark 8 and Matthew 15, he feeds the people again, out of compassion. This after healing the lame, the blind , the crippled, the mute. Needs…in my house, out the door, down the street, across the world.  Jesus began to introduce himself, “I am the bread of life. He who comes to me will never go hungry, and he who believes in me will never be thirsty.” John 6:35.   

“They do not need to go away. You give them something to eat.”

See God, please see God in me, even in the broken way, I lift these loaves to thee.

God of the storehouse, will you extend your broad reach of compassion in me, even in the midst of my own need for rest or solace. Will you nurture an unwavering trust that you know what you are doing, a thankful ‘unentitled’ heart, and the courage to ask the needy to sit down, and near me. Will you give me eyes to see the loaves and fishes that you have so carefully placed with the brothers and sisters around me. And will you guard against the mistake of seeing you for merely temporal provision, and missing that You Are God.

Selah

jlf 8/12

 

Holy Ground

After receiving a heartfelt prayer request this morning from a friend, and commiserating about our tendency to try to run the show, fix the broken, and move mountains via our own weakening strength, I am reminded of the import of recognizing when one is on ‘holy ground.’  As a mom, I have sometimes been struck by the audacity of trying to wear too many hats, interchanging them with split second timing. There are days I literally start chuckling to myself at how ridiculous a picture it makes. Flip, flash, swoosh, swish and I end up reeling,  disoriented, from the whirlwind. As moms, we are called to be teacher, nutritionist, counselor, protector, provisioner, driver, friend, mentor, guide, discipliner, #1 fan, and discipler. Yeh,  WHEW!  On such momentary role changes, one often feels ill-equipped for the job. When a child is struggling, for reasons of sin, or genetics, or illness; or is made vulnerable by his own or others’ unwise or malicious choices,  our confidence moves from, “This is just what I do,”  to, “Lord God, what should I do????? As we rummage through our wardrobe for the wisdom hat, or the civil defender hat, or wait, maybe the exterminator’s hat?, we feel the pressing angst to ‘FIX!’ while carrying the weighted fear of “Have I failed, and if so, is it all beyond repair??? At times, the grief hat, is more than we can stand up under.

Joshua 5 recounts an encounter, at a time when Joshua and the Israelites are poised outside the walled city of Jericho. They have  circumcised themselves anew, and celebrated the Passover after crossing the Jordan River, at God’s second walling of the water. They ate, not manna, but the fruit of Canaan. It was a time of celebration, of dedication of themselves, of receiving the fulfillment of God’s promises, of looking forward. At the risk of gross oversimplification,  a moment that encompassed many of the daily commissions that raising children to be disciples of God holds as well; a great mixing of victory, defeat, re-purposing, redirecting, ect. Perhaps there was a bit of an adrenaline rush on that Jericho plain, that at least a few things were going right! And perhaps also the grave realization that a wrong move could result in years of grief and the need for restitution or repair.

Joshua encounters a man, drawn sword in hand. His focus forward-seeming, he gauges the implications for the coming battle, “Whose side are you on?”  Whose side are you on???? I wonder if we too often take a pugilistic stance in the everyday skirmishes of life. ‘Are you for my kid, or against him…you just try and get near him…’ There’s no doubt that guerilla warfare is an integral part our caring for those under our protection and within  our circle of influence. While we may realize we are doing battle, I suspect the recognition  is not with near the frequency at which we are, or perhaps should be engaged (speaking to myself here). But against whom? Often, I think a greater  oversight, is in our spotting of the enemy.

We live under the daily potential to abide, or dwell in the unchanging promise of life and blessing as the children of God. He has  promised his continual presence, as we move forward from last week’s failure, to encounter tomorrow’s battle. We move forward with the hope of victory, the reality of past failures, the grief of remembered long journeys wrapped around us like so much battle garb – and we wonder who is for us, and who against, and how finely drawn are their swords? Caregiving,  by nature, is often unexpectedly laden with Goliath-like odds.

Joshua’s man stipulated that he was neither on the side of Joshua, nor the enemy, and that he was in fact, the commander of the Lord’s army. The commander of the Lord’s army, doing what, exactly? Without hesitation, Joshua falls to the ground in submission to God’s plan, and upon asking what he is to do, is told to remove his shoes for he is standing on holy ground. God’s first command, in that place between history and moving forward, bypasses a focus upon the enemy and calls for Joshua to recognize God in his holiness. As he does so, Joshua submits to God’s chain of command as well. After all, Joshua was a leader in his own God-given right, just as you and I are positioned by God as parents and teachers  and caregivers and mentors. But the tasks are God-given, and the methodology is his.  The enemy question is answered with a, ‘This isn’t about you or the enemy, this is about God, and who He is.’

As we move, history-laden, to encounter tomorrow’s battle, perhaps it is not our shoes we need remove, but our hats  – all of them –  in reverence and hope that much of where we spend our days is holy ground. Take off our hats and preconceived notions, and bow  in recognition that save the promises of God, we are ill-equipped to teach and care and provision and disciple. Take off our hats and kneel in hope that the “Same power that raised Jesus from the dead,”‘ (Eph.1:19 NIV) is available for our need today. Take off our hats and earthly agendas so we can better see that our enemy in hand-to-hand combat is not our child’s friend of questionable influence, or my spouse in his differing viewpoint, or the aloof administrator. Nor is it the Jericho-like walls of the medical system; but rather the one who opposes God’s holy purpose to receive each of our loved ones unto himself in intimate relationship, a  reality that he has made possible through the saving blood of his Only Son.

Somehow, having an unclouded picture of the enemy, and an accurate assessing of one’s own strength diminishes panic. Just after the Jordan River crossing (Joshua 4:24 NIV), Joshua told the Israelites, “He (the Lord your God) did this so that all the peoples of the earth might know that the hand of the Lord is powerful and so that you might always fear the Lord your God.”

It is as if he says to us, ‘I did this – this yesterday victory – walled up this mighty wall of water allowing you to cross, so that you would know whom to fear… where to place your awe… ‘ Take off your shoes, you are standing  on holy ground. Take off your hats, you abide on holy ground.

Riding the Ferris Wheel

part 1…

When our youngest daughter was seven, we finally received a diagnosis of a genetic disorder that explained her developmental challenges. Thus began a new chapter in an old familiar book. Up until then, we had held out a hope that she would somehow, ‘catch up.’ Our perspective on what her limitations meant,  both present and future, for her, and for us as a family, were changing. Our other girls, who were fourteen, thirteen and eleven at the time, saw it pretty plain. As we explained the diagnosis and its implications to them, they asked with youthful candor, “So what does that really mean?”

“It means that for Little Miss Sweetness  to be healed, it would take a miracle.”

“Oh, so that’s not really any different than it has been?” I had to agree, that from either angle, new or old, the fact of the matter was,  we were waiting for a miracle.

In 2 Corinthians 1:1-11 Paul reflects on hardship and comfort. He lays out the premise that when we suffer,  we are comforted by God, so that we, in turn, can comfort others. In the midst of this ‘pass it on’ process, God is called the Father of compassion. I’m not prepared today, to take on the whole question of why suffering exists in the first place, nor to argue blatantly that compassion alone covers over a multitude of sins, but rather just share one of those latent perspectives that cropped up one of the umpteenth times around the suffering>God comforts>U give comfort  ferris wheel.

There have been a few key intervals at which we have prayed for healing. On one of those occasions, one of the girls asked hesitantly,  “If ‘Little Miss Sweetness’ were healed, would everything about her change?” The real dilemma kind of rolled around in an echo, “What do we really want to change about her?” It was a good question; that quandary of which parts are good and which are functionally debilitating. Do we let go of simpleness, and risk losing her characteristic, “Let’s be HAPPY”? Should we resurrect social appropriateness, at the loss of her insistence that even strangers are welcome in this world? How much that we see now, is genetic error, and how much is all-knowing compassion, that the world needed someone to reiterate that God is calling all of us to be his friends; that sorrow and laughter both are to be shared; that forgiveness includes forgetfulness. How much of her is designed to give a God-sighting perspective(John 9)

The ferris wheel may ride through suffering, (more than once around), but if we are able to view it as  powered on its way by compassion, shocking us into awareness, then suspending us for a moment in full-vertigo position, so that we can safely disembark from just the right perspective, maybe we’ll weather the nausea and get through the ride. For some good, but othertimes shortsighted, reasons I have soooo been an, ”Oh,let me fix that for you” kind of person. Perhaps what I should have been doing was mustering the courage to ride along on the ferris wheel as it would sing, again per Paul, “God is near, God is near, God is near…see Him working here, here, here…God is always near.”

Note: It is not my intent to trivialize either your, or your loved one’s suffering. I know it is real. While this post addressed rather lightly, the question of suffering, in Riding the Ferris Wheel  2, I hope to address the fear and pain that go with it. Peace, j

Entertaining the Holy

I’m finally getting around to my Christmas letter. I’m not the only one… I’ve received them from friends as late as Feb 14^th.  But a thought that rolled around during the Christmas season, is now coming to fruition. It’s raw, but real.

Entertaining the Holy

Most of my life’s journey has been travelled at least in view of pleasant landscapes. It has not been difficult to be hopeful or generally optimistic. This Christmas, I feel hope wearing dangerously thin. After twelve plus years of caring for a special needs child, the threat of other trouble on the horizon leaves me filled with doubt as to how we will carry on. Is that my quota – one trouble per lifetime?  After reading countless patient histories listing multiple tragedies per family, I should know better.  And so I find my faith shallow, and my mind wrestling with angels over having to bear more. “Really, is this you, God, standing guard, yet letting trouble fall near?”  I had not realized my hope was so circumstantially defined. Oh, shallow soul that I am, only interested in investing where there are guaranteed returns.

 I did not win the wrestling match, so here I am; chief caregiver, charged with imagining and developing entertainment for one who is easily delighted, but too-soon disengaged. One who may rarely speak a publicly intelligible word or bear a job title. As I wallow in the sloooo-w progress we sometimes make, the calendar marches through Advent, and on toward Christmas, and I am supposed to be welcoming a Savior, preparing to entertain the Holy One….but instead am occupied with doing the same things over and over again, repeating the same simple guidances. 

How, in heaven’s name, does one entertain the Holy, with sufficient reverent pause…in the midst of persistent daily chaos (of my mind , if nothing else)?  Then I am reminded, “Whatever you did for one of the least of these my brothers…  My sweet angel, somewhere in the malformed taxonomy of human achievement, you will be called , ‘one of the least.’  The slowest pace, the lack of speech, the vague response. How slow am I , to realize that I am in the presence of the Holy; the holy intent to love one another, entertained in the daily give and grapple to take one step forward? The holy intent, ‘to bear all things, believe all things, hope all things…”A crushing thought deflates my frustrated agenda-o-meter: this, God, is what you have done for me: repeated the same simple commands, given cues, reviewed directions, gently guided me through the same steps of discipline, over and over again…You have borne my sin, and my propensity to stupidly repeat that sin. You have believed, expanding your breath of faith inside of  me, when mine was too small. You, God, have invented hope.

And you, too, dear one, are saddled with one of the least of these…slow wanderer that I am in the desert of misguided self-importance, here to walk you through your days. In a gross paraphrase of Joshua 5:13-15, the Israelites are poised on the plains outside Jericho, after much wandering to find their spiritual way; poised, to live inside the richness of God’s promise. Joshua encounters the ‘commander of the Lord’s army,’ who gives the message, “Take off your shoes (sandals), for the place where you are standing is holy.”

We too, or two, or six…,are poised, to live inside His promise. And on every occasion , whether the advent of something new, or something reviewed,  in which  we embrace with love, his intent in the struggle, we dance in entertainment of the holy.                                                                                                         JF12/4/11;3/14/12

 

About 4011caregiverstreet

‘Where the rubber meets the road,’  encouragement means truthful dialogue about how to keep traveling when the way is rutted, or the tires are worn. I’m not a caregiving expert, but I’ve been blessed with some real-world  experience via  parenting a special needs child, and working part-time as a healthcare provider. My PT  role involves training and support of caregivers in the physical care of a loved one. I am repeatedly amazed at the impact of a small word of encouragement. Parenting – well, how many hats can one wear in a day????? Truthful for me has to do with honest takes on what one faces, and a belief that God’s word is the bottom line in navigating life. The name 4011 Caregiver Street comes from Isaiah 40:11, which states, “He tends his flock like a shepherd:He gathers the lambs in his arms and carries them close to his heart; and gently leads those that have young.” NIV    Caregiving appears in multiple forms, related to children, illness, aging, special needs, fostering, mentoring; being a spouse or  friend, and the list goes on.  It is rewarding, challenging, exhausting, at times sacrificial,  and often unexpected either at onset(parenting a grandchild) or in practice. It regularly asks us to do that for which we feel ill-equipped , or unprepared(who knew children were so messy!!!). There may be other verses that more directly apply to caregiving as a whole, but God has consistently been gentle with me, as I continue down this unmapped road on worn treads. And He has been faithful to lead every, single step of the way. Always. and gently…  Whether you are caring for a newly born, or a newly-young elder, my hope is that you will find refreshment, hope, encouragement, HELP(like a great idea), and scriptural truth as you sojourn here. I’m guessing that tomorrow’s  ‘great idea’ might come from one of you; please feel free to share your insights and encouragements; they may be just what your fellow traveler needed to hear. 2/2012 J