(I'm a Moderator on a website for rare lung disease. I try to
help steer others to good medical facilities and in spiritual matters of
the cross.) I am no longer which is a long story about satanic
opposition.
A dying mother and wife wrote
to me expressing how it helped her to read my reminder of Christ's
love and ever present help for a believer...like her. I am sharing with
you my reply to her, in case any of you know of someone who needs these
words.
"Thank you ___________ for taking the time
to write such a beautiful letter and for sharing your thoughts and
feelings with me.I'm so thankful that my love of Christ helped you in
this battle.
I, also am coming painfully to the
deeper knowledge of Christ's great plan for His own because of my
husbands sickness like yours and that that plan does not necessarily
mean a long and healthy life. "My sheep hear My voice." ...Remember
that when you come to the end of life, you WILL hear His voice. That is
a tender and awesome truth to remember that I am still learning. (My
husband, John has since this was written died also)
"I will NEVER leave you or forsake you." It's a promise to cling to as you pass through this difficult storm.
"Pray
without ceasing." He desires that intimate communion with us. And you
can do that even/especially with little breath, as your soul and His
Spirit utter the things which you can't speak. (She was laboring to
continue breathing, smothering.)
There are many
years of earthly hardship coming that we see daily in the news, those
who are with the Lord will be spared those things, and those left
behind He will strengthen so that they can endure with JOY.
Stay
in today, in the now, a lesson I've learned, a hard one for there is
no grace in a future that is not here. I am trying not to mourn now, it
is too early, there is no grace. (my John has since died).
There
is no grace in memories either. Whether they contain happiness or
sadness, there is nothing you can do now to change them so there is no
grace to be had there either. Be at peace with that. Your failings and
achievements, neither one matter now. "I could have...I should
have"...are meaningless ashes. "He remembers that we are but dust." We
are not perfect, but saved from sin. "Unless a man be born again, he
cannot enter the Kingdom of Heaven."
Many times this is
a sad and lonely walk, help your family and friends know the JOY you
will have in meeting your Savior and someday soon meeting them again in
Glory too. Not that we, in any way are wanting to leave them, but as
Paul said, "It is gain for me to die."
God says,
"Precious in His sight is the death of His saints..." (We are His
saints, as Paul says, "Greet the saints in Ephesus..".) "Precious in
His sight is the death of His saints..."I really think those are the
words of a Father who finally has His children all home and safe from
evil or harm. It shows His profound love for His own. "Like a Mother
Hen who gather her chicks under Her wing." (Male & female...He
created them in His image).
I will someday see you
there in Glory ________, although we have not met here. We will enjoy
and serve our King forever, and with great JOY.
John Christopher Matthew Warden: born 1/8/53 died 2/21/13
"You are Home"
I asked that the song below be playedafter everyone had been seated. As the church grew silent this song began and it was beautiful...Later in the service our
oldest grandson read this chapter in the Bible, "All flesh is like the
grass"... He had not cried yet, he hid his grief.But our dear teen boy began
to cry toward the end of his reading and when finished he sat down
in the front pew, head in his hands and cried for grandpa..."the word of
the Lord endures forever", and that truth is the only comfort for our
boy and everyone else in this world.
My cousin Julie Bartelt O'Brien
let me know that she likes reading about how I'm doing on this journey
and I love to write so here's an update. It feels like John died years
ago but it also feels like it was only a few moments ago, it was about 2
weeks ago. I keep expecting to turn around and he'll be standing there,
but he is Home, his true forever Home, and for that I'm so glad, no
more needles or air tanks, breathing
pure heavenly air and he's with Christ, best of all he's with Christ. I
said two words when John died, "You're home." (not to him, Christian's
don't talk or commune with the dead) but out loud, to myself. I was
smoothing his hair, I said those two words in awe, surprise and then
felt an instant alone-ness (The one shall be... one?). I took the
cannula off, and then after 3 years, turned the hissing concentrators
off. The silence was deafening... I finally knew what people meant when
they said that! I was in a room, with my husband, and he was dead. I
looked around, felt as though I was in a bubble under the water,
everything looked so distant, so far, far away. Then I was on a hill in
the wind watching the clouds roll by, putting off the inevitable phone
calls I'd be making soon, too soon, wanting to stay near the bed,
waiting for something, I don't know what. "5 minutes ago he was alive", I
thought, "and in the room with me, breathing, blood swooshing." But
just like that- I was a widow. I wandered from room to room always
circling back, looking at his body, then wandering away again, looking
for something, I don't know what. "Until death do us part". A little
while later Pastor was next to me when the parting happened for good,
like a sheet torn in two. I couldn't breathe, it was an explosion inside
of me. More people arrived. I didn't want to see his body taken away so
our oldest son Jon took me for a ride, "Put your coat on", someone
said... My daughter in law and friend sweetly reminded me to put my coat
on." Ok, thank you. I reached up and out of the ocean depths took my
coat and put it on. We drove away. My son said, "Go ahead and drink my
coffee mom, it's still warm". Ok , thank you. "Remember dad loved to
pick berries here, take us to watch deer there, leave the house early to
drive this, the longest back-road, to work." Our boy drove slowly, the
moonlit snowy fields and forest swam alongside of the car, we drifted
around the lake and up the pale white hill... the phone rang, Jon said,
"ok", and he took me home. The sun rose quietly outside my kitchen
window.... So, here I am 2 weeks later, living/worshiping Christ,
serving Him with other believers. John would smile about that, he didn't
want me to wear black widows weeds, garb. My husband (I love that word
and miss it... "There will neither be marriage nor given in marriage".
He is solely my brother in Christ now) was a Godly man who wanted me to
serve the Lord and not look back, his final admonishments. He is Home
and I will go there someday too ♥ I talk to the dogs more than a normal
person should, I say things like. "So guys and gals, what are we going
to do today?" xo, Pam
Abortion! It's a word that doesn't mean anything anymore, it's become an everyday word like, milk or car. But,
this multi-billion dollar "industry" does not crank out cars, shoes, paper products or steel, but cranks out dead babies, one after another, 3,500 estimated daily. DAILY! This is a seedy, filthy, money loving bloody industry and it is the ULTIMATE VIOLENCE.
Please take a http://180movie.com/abortion.phpmoment to listen, to think about the decision you're making, abortion is not the answer. Cry out to God for salvation, for help.
Please don't read farther if you've had an abortion, I don't want to hurt you any more than you have already been hurt. This is written for those who are contemplating it.
Dear One
When I was in 3rd grade my baby brother died. Everyone mourned, even the neighbors and teachers. We all cried, it was such a tragic, heart- rending loss for us. His death was devastating. None of us were ever the same...not ever again. He was born a healthy baby, but died when he was only 2 months old and he had a name, James John. He was never called a "fetus".
We mourned for our Jimmy but who for the unborn aborted baby?
Fetus, what a horribly demeaning name. Most mothers lovingly imagine sweet and meaningful names for their babies before birth...Ian, Sarah, Robert, Karen, Laura...but the aborted child is called, "Fetus", which is a cold and distancing name. When a baby dies we mourn, but when we say that a fetus dies there is no attachment, no precious gift, we just get on with our lives. Fetus and "tissue" are names that are highly calculated by those in charge to be used by the abortion industry because it does not trigger the terrible mourning that the death of a baby does, and in so doing does not diminish their very healthy livelihood. $$$$$$$. They don't care about you, your child, your health, your family, your heartbreak. It's all about the money and God says that the, "root of all evil is the love of money." They must not only love money but adore money, what else would literally drive them to kill a child, a million children? Don't trust them, don't trust what they tell you. I found statistics $1/2 billion and up a year, for abortion.
How could you contemplate this? Remember that you only have the option because someone let you live. Sadly it's legal. Ask yourself, look into a mirror and ask yourself, how can I do this and why? This is a no take-back decision, there will be no do-overs. It is violent and it is final. Youtube has many videos where you can see behind the curtain of sterile loving clinics. You can read about women leaving the clinics wounded and bleeding, while the next in line is helped onto the cold table.
Outside of many supposed "clinics", protesters are on the sidewalks and streets offering help for you and your baby, offering options and answers with all of their might. Sometimes they are arrested while caring more than mother's do.
Just think, this child is made in the Creators own image and also looking a lot like you. Your child is special and needs to be loved and cared for.
You will feel uneasy for the rest of your life, I can guarantee this. There will be a special birthday year after year with no child to celebrate with. You will be haunted by every child's face on a playground...How do I know this? My brother's name and his birthday are etched on our calendars year after year after year, my mom's eyes look distant, searching on that day, longing for the moment that she will be reunited with her son again in Heaven. She also marks the day of his death on the calendar (even if you go on to have more children, you will always remember). We do not forget Jimmy, his name is on a gravestone. (He died when President Kennedy was assassinated, so long ago, that is why I can tell you that you will never, ever forget.)
Instead of practicing your right to choose an abortion you will actually be a willing participant in the "ultimate violence."
I was a single mom, very poor, I had a little boy. I was broke and alone and I had health problems, but I never thought of aborting my baby in spite of any of that. I tell you that because of the irony, because of they way God used his life to enrich mine. I have enjoyed this child all of his life and he is now the one who takes care of my husband and I, (my husband is terminally ill.) Our son and his family are not rich, but instead of choosing to leave us by ourselves, this son, who I raised in spite of hardship, chose to help us, bringing us to his home with his family. He is a blessing. I gave him life and now he takes care of me.
I do hope this makes you feel bad because it's such a bad thing you are contemplating. You should feel bad, because maybe, just maybe, you will not go through with this. Let someone help you, choose to do the right thing, the only loving thing, chose to save your child's life.
Your baby is alive, but her life is in your hands. What will you do?
Luther and Calvin back in the day Sproul and MacArthur today Defenders of the Faith
RC Sproul and John MacArthur are probably two of the most influential teachers/ theologians of our time. Bringing back a fire for God in a complacent world, in a world of born again believers who don't act like it. Authoring book after book challenging the brethren to dig deeper into His word, to follow hard, to leave all the world behind, forsaking all others, to cling to Christ alone, and to know why.
To watch these men at conferences together is an amazing and humbling thing. They are not stuffy or aloof, but down to earth men of God. Granted there are other Christians who write, speak, call people to a deeper relationship with God. Of course there are more preachers/teachers that God has raised up, but these two men of the Lord are the giants of our time causing the rest to dig deeper, pray harder, study harder and teach with more boldness and love.
1 Corinthians 10-17 "Now this I mean, that each one of you saith, I am of Paul; and I of Apollos: and I of Cephas; and I of Christ...some from Chloe's house inform me that there are quarrels among you...is Christ divided?" I pour my heart-Kardia out here. In Christ's love, Pam
Below is a link to a transcript and video from Grace to You Two great friends together. Dr. RC Sproul and Dr. John MacArthur in a discussion about Christian/Catholic unity.
Words really do matter and as a Christian they matter greatly...God speaks to us in His word, the written word, we are told to go unto the nations spreading the word, the Word became flesh, God's word will never pass away...words, I have found a wonderful site that teaches us the meaning of biblical words, it breaks them down so we can easily understand them. I have found the word Kardia-the heart. It's a very special word to me because the last scripture that I said to my husband before his lung transplant, leaned on his chest, whispered to him was "Trust in the Lord with all your heart.." How do we know what the mind thinks, what the ears hear when physically sedated. I do know that Jesus says, "My sheep hear My voice." Does it matter then if you are unconscious, sedated, in a coma, in the womb...are you shut off from the Shepherd at anytime? That's not what that Psalm promises.
Kardia...trust in the Lord with all your kardia.
(I wrote that Psalm in each hospital room from then on, for every hospital visit on the wipe off board. John is now in Chronic Rejection, no possiblity for a 2nd transplant, no more hospitals. He's in Hospice at our home now, but God is still using him, using him, using him.)
Yesterday he was asked to lead a men's Bible study from his hospital bed...using him, using him, using him.
John is having more chest pain now, the heart is getting tired. Kardia.
I am reading, Don't Waste Your Life by John Piper.
"God created us to live with a single passion: to JOYfully display His supreme excellence in all the spheres of life. The wasted life is the life without this passion. God calls us to pray and think and dream and plan and work not to be made much of, but to make much of Him in every part of our lives."
"Most people slip by in life without a passion for God, spending their lives on trivial diversions, living for comfort and pleasure, and perhaps trying to avoid sin..."
Don't Want To Waste My Life...a wonderful song by Lecrae. It's on the right sidebar.
Something of interest, I did the Closed Captioning for the Christian TV show, Wretched, with Todd Friel. My episode is where Todd talks to a young man named Brandon, who is a wiccan. They asked me to do another, but I need a lot of breaks for my hands. I can't wait to do another though. I'm blessed to be even a teeny tiny part of that ministry.
Now, as Todd says at the end of each program...
"Go and serve your King..."
I can't type much, my hands are giving out, but we are in our new "condo" that our oldest son has created for us. Very happy. My appointment with the specialist is Feb. 1st., so keeping that in prayer. Not a lot to say when it's so painful to say it in type. Hope they can help with this pain and swelling in my hands, heels and lower spine...the Lord knows. Update: We've now lived here awhile now and it is wonderful, thank you for praying for us. ANOTHER Update: My hands are lots better due to a pretty intensive drug, but little pain now, although the dupytren's contracture is still there and active, but I can type and play guitar (modified a bit). Very happy and thankful for this.
This is a photo of the Library in Geneva, Illinois, were I grew up, and what I remember when I close my eyes...old oak everywhere, banisters down the stair case, wooden book shelf ladders that slid along the rails, the Librarian in the middle seemed perched high on an oak throne. My heart was knit to the children's area downstairs, marveled that I could take all the books home that I wanted, FREE, FREE, FREE. Trip after trip, loading my wagon, loading my arms. I could never hold enough. The cord, tied to my heart, stretched between the pillow and lamp in my closet to that beautiful stone second home across town. The stores charged pennies and nickles for treats to little ones with mostly empty pockets but the Library gave up lavishly. While mom did errands or went to the little beauty shop down the street, I begged to be dropped off at the...hush...library of dreams. The Geneva Public Library seemed so large and especially so to little eyes and feet. The Librarian who worked in the children's section was always impressed with my reading level, would suggest new books. You had to be 10 or something before you could use the adult sections upstairs. I was fine with that, but like the swimming pool, you eventually want to dive into the "deeper end." Our Methodist church also had a library, I've felt guilty all of my life because I took out, Three Came Home, a war story about missionary family, but never could bring it back, always had to read it one more time... (Sorry Rev. Carter, one of your angels was a thief). I also knew Anne Frank's fears and joys as well as my own. I shuddered at her dieing, she was just a little older than I in her photos. I wondered why would anyone kill little girls like Anne...or like me, my sisters, my schoolmates? I was always scouting for good hiding places, keeping them in the back of my mind, in case they came for us someday. I grew up to treasure, The Hiding Place, by Corrie ten Boom. A Christian sister who was sent to a concentration camp for hiding Jews. I vowed when I was a little girl that I'd hide Jews like Anne Frank if I ever could, so Corrie became a hero of mine. She walked the walk of faith and risked her life to hide Jewish families too. In Corrie's book she said that her father, a dear Godly man said one day, "Pity the Nazis Corrie, for they have dared to touch the apple of God's eye (His chosen people, the Jews)." Her father and most of Corrie's family died in the camps. She was released by mistake, a clerical error. She traveled the world, after seeing man at his worst, bringing God's love to that lost and dieing world, and her message was, "There is no pit that God is not deeper still."
So this is what I'm reading: I'm reading Twelve Extraordinary Women by John MacArthur for our book club at church and How Could a Loving God...?, written and sent to my husband and I by Ken Ham (Answers in Genesis) gift, sent from a brother (Ken Ham) in Christ because we are hurting. If you are hurting, you need this book. If you've suffered loss you definitely need this book. You will be blessed.
Love,
Pam
ps Ken Ham had written to us in the cover but I loaned it out, don't remember to who...so, I bought another one.
I learned today that the Geneva Public Library is a Carnegie Library, even more thrilling because I'm Scotish.
"A Carnegie library is a library built with money donated by Scottish-American businessman and philanthropist Andrew Carnegie. A total of 2,509 Carnegie libraries were built between 1883 and 1929, including some belonging to public and university library systems. 1,689 were built in the United States, 660 in Britain and Ireland, 125 in Canada, and others in Australia, New Zealand, Serbia, the Caribbean, Mauritius and Fiji.
At first, Carnegie libraries were almost exclusively in places where he had a personal connection. This would be Scotland and the Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania area. This would change in 1899.
In later years few towns that requested a grant and agreed to his terms were refused. When the last grant was made in 1919, there were 3,500 libraries in the United States, nearly half of them built with construction grants paid by Carnegie."
I finally was diagnosed, after two years of worsening pain and crippling hands. I have Dupytren's Contracture, and some sort of arthritis in my hands that nobody can figure out.(I am one of the administrators of the new facebook page: International Duputyren's Society.)
We are moving in with our oldest son and his family. We get the downstairs and all the love and care they can give us and we hope to love and care for them too. Blessed? Yes... Happy? No... Joyful? Most definitely! My Joy is found in Christ and not in earthly circumstances.
I want to become friends with everyone who has this disease...so please, if you have Dupuytren's Contracture write me. I'd like to hear from others too. I'll pray for you.
The photo above is swiped from a friend, Mrs. Greg Adams :) I put the saying and scripture on it...hope that's ok Nae.
Love and Joy,
Pam
"He is familiar with our infirmities and acquainted with our grief."
Often, during my husband John's illness, we would travel from our quiet home and business in the north-woods, to huge hospitals and clinics in the big, busy city of Madison, WI. (We also traveled to trade shows when he was well enough. I'm an artist and we sell my art to gift stores. Our last trade show together was in January, 2010 in Dallas, Texas, at the World Trade Center.) While in Dallas I noticed John was not breathing right, having to "catch" his breath, take longer breaks. He was quite obviously sick again. His body was probably attempting to reject his transplanted lung again. We'd done this before, so many times, and usually after a week or so in the hospital, they would get it sorted out and we were right back to living our "normal lives". But this time something was different, very different. John's transplant team could not get the rejection to stop. I remembered a long time ago they had told us, "Somewhere along the road we will not be able to stop your body from ultimately rejecting the lung. It is called Chronic Rejection and it's deadly without a 2nd transplant." In January they hospitalized him 3 separate times, injecting massive anti-rejection medications into his body. But, nothing changed. The cough and shortness of breath got worse. Then, they finally informed us that John did indeed suffer from the much dreaded Chronic Rejection this time. It's the worst diagnosis there is in the transplant world. My knees were weak, I prayed and cried. For 5 years I had feared this, for 5 years I had feared the C word...Chronic. But, I still held on to a hope, they had said that people who reject can get a "2nd transplant". We held on to that, like you would hold on to a child in a house fire. Tightly and desperately, looking for safety. A few weeks after the 3rd and last hospitalization, we were home and talking on the phone with John's transplant-coordinator, Kelly. She said that a 2nd transplant was not going to be possible for him. The fight was over... No more big city, no more travels, hospitals, hotels, treatments or appointments, no more life together...it was as though a huge clock had ticked very loudly. And just with that one tick, a whole new time of "us" began. I swear I actually heard the TICK of the clock...and then stillness. "Be still and KNOW that I AM God."
I'm sorry I can't give credit to the photographer-I don't know where I got this picture
John is in Hospice care at our home now. We went from Home Health Care right into Hospice Home Care. Nurses come and go. We don't live by the "outside" world's time any longer, other than me going to church services. I heard the final TICK of the outside world's clock. It's can be 2, 3, 4 or 5 in the morning when we finally sleep a little. The O2 concentrator makes a sound like chchchchc-POOOOF-chchchchchchc-POOOF. John's nostrils get dry and sore from the plastic cannula in his nose and the constant rushing wind. We have to hook up 2 concentrators for him to shower, bath time is a nightmare for most people with lung disease. Yet he does not lose heart, he cheers me and our children. He says, "I know who I serve, I know why I'm here and I know where I'm going." He said that to the church body once when he was teaching, he then posed this question to the congregation, "Do you?" God has said that "In our weakness He is made strong." I've seen that in John. Faith wise, I watch him literally tower over most people though he's flat on his back in the hospital bed. It's amazing to see, it really is. We want to have the authentic faith that I'm reading about. All the world will eventually suffer, and everyone will eventually die, we are no different. So, how can I be different from the world in this? When I do it for Christ. When I show them His love, when I "seek first the Kingdom of God and His righteousness.", when I show them, as Amy Carmicheal said, that there is a "path through suffering"... and when I am still. Love, Pam
A small group of women from our church are getting together and reading Autentic Faith, by Gary Thomas. I've never experienced a *"book club" atmosphere before (*not sure what to call it), but I am already enjoying and learning much from this book that Cathy chose.
God is faithful...
Some of the notes I've taken from Authentic Faith so far are:
What if life isn't meant to be perfect but we are meant to trust the One who is?
The seasons (of trials) are necessary because we do not walk easily into maturity.
The active Christian life is full of risks, heartache, and responsibilities.
Yes, we experience peace, joy and hope, but it is a peace in the midst of turmoil, a joy marked with empathy, and a hope refined by suffering-Refined BY Suffering-
Learn to love with God's love. Learn to serve with God's power.
Mourning gives us a glimpse of the world as God sees it.
