Using The Automatic Function

Anyone who knows me, knows I love photography.  I've loved it for years, and it fits perfectly with another hobby of mine, scrapbooking.   For years I used the “automatic” function on my camera until this last year, learning different settings outside the box.  I’m still learning and have disasters, but luckily we’re in the digital age, and I can simply delete them.

It’s been the same in my spiritual walk.  I’ve been a Christian for many years, functioning on automatic.  Using my head knowledge, patterns and paths, that end up with me being frustrated, wondering why it seems so difficult to have that peace, that knowledge that Christ is in control, and really when you get down to it, wanting to knowing the will of God in my life.   That’s because I've been functioning in automatic.  I know all these things in my head and believe them al, but God knows, that with patterns and principles comes automation.   Automatic responses, automatic prayers, relying on human wisdom,   all things we can do without really having that deep relationship we desire.   God will not allow us to run on automatic.  He likes to mix it up, keep us on our toes, and keep us from running on our own steam.   Teaching us all the while to lean, trust, believe, worship, and rely – on Him only.

My reward?  Freedom.  Yes, the freedom from worrying, not knowing His will, stressing about the future, the past or the present.  I’ve learned freedom.    Imagine asking God to know His will in any circumstance.  Imagine, still not knowing for sure what His will is despite prayer and reflection.  Then imagine the reality of this.  Does it really matter?  I’m not being flippant.  Knowing that His will is always best - does it really matter if we know it up front?  If God is in control, does the result matter?  He has promised to COMPLETE the good work He started in us.  (Jeremiah 29:11).  Does that mean we shouldn’t pursue His will, stop doing His good works, and just go with the flow?   No.  He just wants us to pursue His Presence.   In all we do.  In all we say, in ALL that comes and goes in our lives.

Does it mean I never worry or become obsessed?  No.  But I’m glad we’re in the digital age.  Just like the many photos that I’ve deleted, true repentance and trust bring forth forgiveness and my sins are deleted.

Chris Tiegreen says, “Take pleasure in God’s variety.  Use it as an opportunity to pull away from the automatic setting, and the practicing of religion, and use His variety, to draw close to Him”.

In this Christmas season it’s easy to get caught up in automatic mode.  To get lost in the traffic,  and rely on our own steam.   Turn your dial to manual.  Learn to listen for His voice. Learn to trust when you don’t hear it, and immerse yourself so deeply  into His presence, that when His Presence moves, you do too.

Shalom
Blessings, from our house to yours.

The 5 Stages of Grief.

They say that there are five stages of grief.

1. Denial
2. Anger
3. Bargaining
4. Depression
5. And Acceptance.

I wonder if they are always in that order?  And how long does each stage take?  I'm just wondering because I seem to be jumping back and forth between a couple of them and skipping out on at least one of the stages completely.  I mean is that allowed?  Is there a rule book I should be looking through to get this right?  Maybe it's because I'm grieving more than one thing at a time?  Or here's one - I'm grieving properly through the stages for one thing in my life, but not for others?  Where do I go for that?   

Hmmmm.  Seems like a heavy subject for today, but really it's not.  Truly.  I really have these questions, swirling around in my head, when I know I should be sound asleep, but the sound of my husband's breathing is just a little off rhythm tonight so I can't fall asleep to that.  And my brain has a gazillion ideas for my next scrapbook idea, but I know if I get out of bed and start it, I'll wake up tomorrow morning and look at it and say, "What was I thinking?"

So I'm grieving.  I'm missing my Dad so much.  He passed away last July and there was still so much I wanted to tell him, to ask him, and just everything. So,  I'm not in denial.  I'm definitely angry, but not at him.  I'm really angry at me.  Is that right?  Am I grieving right?  Am I supposed to be mad at him or me?  At any rate, I'm still mad. For many reasons that I don't need to get in to, it just frustrates me.  Bargaining?  Not sure about this one - what do I do?  Make a bargain with God about, what?  Still unsure on that one.  Might have to research that one to get it done properly.  Depression.  Well hallelujah,  I've got that one down pat!  I in no way am making light of depression, really I'm not.  It's been a tough battle, one I'm still struggling with, but what good is depression without a little humour thrown in, right? (Insert laugh track here).  Then there is the tough one.  Acceptance.   Can hardly swallow and get that one out.  Of course in my head and even in my heart I know he is gone and with the Lord in glory, I know that and I can accept that.  What I'm having difficulty accepting is that he is still not here for me.  Selfish right?  I know that. Totally selfish.

But isn't that what grieving really is all about?  Selfishness?  Think about it.  The person is gone, no more pain or suffering.  They're with the Lord's Jesus, meeting all the grandchildren, that you haven't even met yet through either miscarriages, early deaths or still births.  What glory, what joy for him!  All of history revealed!

This is what helps get me through my selfishness.  At least for this loss in my life.
One of the most important ones.  There are several much less important losses that I'm going through right now, that in no way compare to the loss of my Father.

Just before my Dad passed away, all the children and grandchildren came to say their good byes.  And even though this was exhausting and took it's toll on my Dad I could see the joy in his eyes each time he held a baby that he hadn't seen for awhile, or hadn't even had a chance to meet yet.  Or his 3 year old grand daughter who lives 3 hours away,  that he had not gotten to see very often,  who insisted on singing and dancing for him like he was the King of England and she was a diva performing (because she thinks she's one in real life), her performance had to be perfect.  I saw the tears after everyone had left, when I thought for the first time that my Dad, was maybe getting the full impact of what was happening.   What was truly happening.  He was leaving.  And as much as he wanted to leave, that's as much as he wanted to stay.  Boy, what a tough choice.  Even though the choice was ultimately not up to him, it was there, staring him full on in reality.  What courage and strength it must have taken to keep his brave face on.  No crying was allowed around him.  We had to be strong for Mom.  That was his rule.  (I sucked at this rule), I suspect that it was the rule for him at times too.  For the times he held his grandchildren and knew would be for the last time.   Or for the diva's who did their dances and singing that he would not hear again until glory brought them together again, and of course for the beautiful music and singing from Jessica and Wesley that he would not hear again until they met again.  Then there was Jessica's wedding. The wedding that she had changed the date for, and had changed the venue for to be closer to him so he could be there, only to have him pass away sooner than expected.  That was so difficult for us, because we knew what joy it would have brought him to be there, not just for him, but for Jessica too.

You might think it's morbid for me to be writing about this, but for me, it's therapeutic.  There's something refreshing about writing about it, sharing it and just releasing it.  Letting people see that it's okay to grieve, even if you don't don't do it in the right order.  (Insert laugh track here).

Since my Father's death, we've also done something wonderful.  We've found family. Family we didn't really know existed.  My brother Darren gets the credit for that one. He tracted them down.  Family we now keep in contact with through facebook.  Actually, I can only speak for myself.  I guess for me, it's part of the healing.  Writing back and forth to Ilona Nemeth and Edi Rosta who are both related to my Dad. I write almost daily to Ilona.  In some small way to me it's like having a part of my Dad back?  Is that wrong?   Again with the questions.  I'm not sure.

But I'm sure of one thing;  I want them to know who my Dad was.  The Husband, Father, Grandfather, Uncle and Godly man.  My Dad.  Our Dad.  The man whose honor it was to be his child.  Imre "Jim" Rosta.  And I will.

So this is what I've come up with about grieving;

Grief?   The five steps?   Don't worry about the steps, or what order they fall in.  Their different for everyone.   Love your family.  Tell them you love them.  Have no regrets. There, have NO regrets.  THAT is important.

Grieving?  I'm 100% positive that we (meaning Dad's family), were not the only ones grieving during that time.  Although my dad knew where he was going and was prepared for his place in glory,   I saw it.  The grief.  The grief of knowing he was leaving us behind, for however length of time that would be.  I'm not saying he wasn't ready and willing and in some way excited to go, I mean who wouldn't be?  But I saw just a twinge, the slight tears, (although I'm not sure Dad would admit it, because of "the no crying rule".  The sadness of knowing he wouldn't see his great grandchildren grow up, his unmarried grandchildren get married, and most of all he wanted to see his family, all of his family to serve the Lord.  I believe that will come to pass. See, one thing my parents did faithfully, is pray for their children.  Not only their children, but grandchilfren and great grandhildren.

Grief can bring families together.  It can also destroy families.  I pray, what my Dad and Mom would have prayed and what my Mom continues to pray;  for us to heal, draw closer, love each other, and love The Lord Your God above all.

And Dad, I still miss you.

Where Did We Go Wrong?

Our society in North America seems to have taken a turn for the worse somewhere.

I'm talking about the "systems" we have in our society that are in place to "protect" us in our hour of need.  You know the ones, disability insurance, worker's compensation, EI, Welfare, CPP disability, etc.

Now we've paid into these systems, through our work places, or through government programs and they are supposed to be our safety net when life, real life happens to us unexpectedly.

But this is fantasy.  It seems like only the select few are the "chosen" ones.  I know from experience.  I myself ended up having to submit two separate claims to WCB, both injuries were the result of work, they were both turned down.  They give you 30 days to appeal.  Because I didn't have the energy or the money to hire a lawyer, I didn't bother to appeal.  I think they count on people like me.

I know someone who used to work for WCB in a professional capacity.  When we discussed my injury she asked me why I didn't appeal, I told her I was in no state of mind to do so. After all when you are in chronic pain, trying to work through it for years, depression takes over and you just try to get through your day.  She then proceeded to tell me that WCB has a mandate for its professionals that work with the injured, that they are to get the injured back to work within four weeks whether they are ready or not.  She just shakes her head now, when she looks at how long of a process it really takes to get patients well.  After all, when patients go back to work too early, isn't it reasonable to assume that they will re-injure themselves and take even longer and use up even more resources to get well?  Now I'm no medical expert, I'm not an expert in any area actually, but REALLY?  They can't see this?

I belong to a number of fibromyalgia groups on Facebook.  In these groups we don't just talk about fibromyalgia,  but about life and things that bring on our flare-ups, encouraging one another and things going on in our lives at any particular moment etc.  I have a friend named Nichole. (I have her permission to use her name).  She is a single mom with a wonderful little boy named Tyler who is seven years old.  Tyler is adopted.  Unfortunately he was a crack baby, meaning he was addicted to crack because his biological mother was a crack addict.  He's had health issues in his life, but has been relatively healthy.  Unfortunately, recently Tyler ended up in the hospital because he was having problems breathing.  To Nichole's horror, Tyler requires a lung transplant.  Just like that.  From playing like a normal kid, to requiring a lung transplant.  Nichole has Tyler at home now, with tubes sticking out of everywhere. Tyler is allowed to play "carefully" on his bed.   Nichole wanted to invite some of Tyler's friends over to make him feel better and encourage him, but their mothers declined.  THEY DECLINED.  Really?  Were they afraid it was infectious?  Ok I digress.

Nichole applied for SSI AND SSD which were both denied because she a) made too much money and b) Tyler could still function "normally".  I guess if you consider it normal for a 7 year- old to be bed ridden so that he doesn't overdo it, then Tyler meets those conditions.  Now Nichole lives in the US so I don't know what the criteria is for meeting the qualifications for either of these disability plans are, but surely a child with one lung who is bedridden , waiting for a lung transplant and is autistic would qualify?? You would think so.  And Nichole makes too much money to qualify for Tyler to get SSI.  That would be her whopping cheque of $1214.00, that she gets on disability.  Wow!

Then of course there are the medical bills, which so far add up to $68,0000 and something.  This is where I ask, "where did we go wrong?  Where do our priorities lie?  Obviously not with the people who have worked hard and deserve the help that they have paid into, or even if they didn't pay into it, doesn't humanity deserve our compassion, or our help giving more than this?  Nichole mentioned it took less than three weeks for Tyler to be refused these benefits.  Less than three weeks to for someone to determine someone else's future.   Now that's power.

Back to Canada.  I know a young man.  He is a hard working young man who moved to British Columbia from Alberta three years ago, because for the last 10 years he had been on call 24/7, was burnt out and was beginning to have chronic shoulder and back pain from operating the heavy machinery that bounced him around while he worked in the oil fields.  He was hoping to find a different line of work that would allow him to sleep regularly, so he would not have to be on call 24/7, and would not be as hard on his back and shoulders.  He did find menial work with a buddy of his working construction for a whopping 15-17.00$ an hour.  And when that dried up, he literally put out 100's of resumes and was not able to get an interview let alone another job.

He finally went to EI and battled with them to get insurance.  The only reason he was finally able to qualify for sick EI, was because he was getting medical investigations for his painful back and shoulders, which revealed an unfortunate diagnosis of MS. He has nine lesions in his brain and two on his spine.

He is an amazing young man.  The reason I say this? Is because he was more upset at having to apply for welfare,  than the fact that he was diagnosed with MS.  It's very humbling.  Not applying for welfare itself (which has an impact on your self-esteem anyways), but the people who make you feel like a failure when you apply.  Like you are some low life not willing to work, wanting a hand out.  A handout for the whopping $ 620.00  they give you each month.  This infuriates me.  I know these people deal with many people who do abuse the system.  But does that give them the right to mistreat anyone? Including the abusers?  Does it come out of their pockets?

Ok, I digress again.  Where did we go wrong?  What do we have to do to help our sick, our impoverished,  our elderly, our widowed?  Where do we begin?

First off - NEVER   give up trying.  That is what I'm learning.  Many people with invisible illness' s have to apply 3-4 times before they get approved.  Some hire lawyers and only have to pay if they win.  Go to your government representatives, e-mail them, or better yet show up in person, so that it's harder for them to turn you away.  Do it for the little Tyler's, for the people who can't speak up, or for those who are just too exhausted to speak up.

Okay - it's a start, and we have to begin somewhere.  Just do it.