Disturb Us

"Disturb us, Lord, when we are too well please with ourselves, when our dreams have come true because we have dreamed too little, when we arrive safely becuase we sailed too close to the shore." - Sir Francis Drake 1577.

I lost Jonathon at thirty-seven-and-a-half weeks into my pregnancy in 1977. I was angry with God for taking him before I got a chance to really know him. I have been faithful to God all my life, but this was a pain, a hole in my heart, that would not heal if I walked away from God totally. I was literally on the verge of turning my back on the God I had know from childhood into this terrible time a a young adult. I strayed a lot, but I know He was always with me. During the next year, I had struggled to believe in God. I almost felt I did not need Him.

My second chance was Stephanie, who, in turn, came five-and-a-half weeks early, with a long list of medical problems. I believe I started praying again for her healiing and my sanity. Then we heard a heart murmur. She was to be watched and we were told she would grow out of this murmur. She did not grow out of this murmur; instead, the hole in her heart grew larger.

Stephanie was not yet three years old and the heart doctors told her father and me she needed open heart surgery, to repair this hole. She was taken care of at St. Joseph's Childrens Hospital in Tampa, Florida. Atrial septal defect (ASD) is a common heart defect among premature children, a routine surgery taking four to five hours witha recovery rate of a few weeks, depending on the patient. Our surgeon even told me, he would rather have this problem for his own children than any other heart problem. We felt she was in good hands.

A short, curly, brown-haired, brown-eyed nurse, clad in green scrubs and white sneakers, gave Stephanie the anesthesia to make her sleep. I was able then to dress her in the purple pajamas provided by the hospital. As the nurse pushed the gurney out of the small pre-operation room wer were in, fear began pushing its ugly head in. My heart began to race, my palms became sweaty. I followed the gurney, the nurse and Stephanie into the hall; I was not ready for the operation to begin. The corridor seemed to elongate, the white walls became too white. The nurse's sneakers squeaked on the linoleum. A wheel of the gurney spun endlessly, like they do on old grocery carts. I must have blinked, or something was in my eye, or maybe fear produced the most amazing sight I needed. An angel-black, clean-cut hair, honey eyes, with a soft ivory complexion-sat next to my baby. His impossibly white robe seemed to mute all other colors around it: a lighthouse beacon, shining so bright to bring ships home safely.

Beyond a shadow of doubt, there was a peace in his honey eyes, given to me in this terrible storm. I know she would make it through they surgery and recovery, and knew most of all, she had God's protection. I was able to relax my mind, heart and soul while the doctors repaired her little heart. In less than two hours after she was taken into the operating room, the doctor came and told us she was doing great. He did not have to put a patch in her heart. He was able to stitch the hole closed. She was recovering well from the surgery. Relief flooded my whole being. The promise of healing and protection had been fulfilled.

I feel God brought me to my knees the instant Stephanie was taken into the operating room. I needed Him right then and nothing else would do. Being left helpless to protect and heal my own child was my disturbance. He provided me the angel I needed and this moment firmed my faith in God. It gives me a grounding point for all other trails and most of all gives me peace when there is none.

Goodreads.com/quotes & calvaryccm.com/files/teachings/main/notes/MB446.pdf

Comm 1 paper #1

I love writing. I have always written, whether it has been in classes or just on my own. Writing to me is an escape from daily activities, such as work stresses, children or family in general. I am also an avid reader. I am trying to expand my genres to expand my writing abilities. Though I am a published poetry writer, I feel I lack focus and confidence, perhaps fear rejection too much to become an accomplished and published novelist and communicator.

I feel I need to be more focused and grounded when I write. I can get lost in my expressions when writing, but I can also effectively get my point across. I had to remember that my emotions where not necessary when I wrote a research paper last term on a book called Aphrodite’s Island. It was hard for me to not focus on the unjustly acts of the early European’s and their lack of morality. I would like to be able to take what I learn in this class and use it to finish writing the book I have been trying to complete (along with its sequels) for way too long.

I am a firm believer in practice makes perfect. I just lack confidence in myself as an accomplished writer. I am more of a creative writer. I usually have a basic idea of what I want to write, and then allow the flow of the story, essay, or characters take me along for the ride. Like riding an inter-tube down a lazy river, you are the passenger and the inter-tube is the vessel, you may or may not guide the inter-tube as you please down the river. I am usually harder on myself and rarely allow other people to read my work. (This is not good for any self-respecting author to do if they want to be published.) I do have poetry published on various websites, such as Poetry.com, Writers.com, and Helium.com; I also have a blog (that I don’t use often). I have had offers to join schools that work with writers, to become better trained writers and get good writing jobs. I just don’t have the money to go to any such school.

For me to achieve anything in this Communications class is a stepping stone across the river I am drifting down. I want to learn about myself as a writer and a communicator. I am scared but must face my fear of rejection, the same thing all writers’ face. I am willing to learn about my writing and hopefully what I do learn here will teach me to become a better writer.