May 12 2022 Day 341 Philemon 1

Perhaps this is the reason he was separated from you for a while, so that you might have him back forever, no longer as a slave but more than a slave, a beloved brother—



Paul’s on chapter letter to Philemon is about a runaway slave, persuasion versus compulsion, reparations, and reunification. At the time, slavery was common practice, as was executing runaway slaves. Paul has met and become a father figure to Onesimus, a runaway slave of Philemon. This brief letter is Paul’s attempt to persuade Philemon to accept Onesimus back, without the harsh penalty of execution.

Paul writes that he’d rather persuade Philemon to do the right thing, rather than keep Onesimus without Philemon’s consent. I would do well to remember that, particularly with my loved one. As it turns out, I truly cannot compel them to do much of anything, as a grown adult. I can turn natural consequences into unnatural coercive penalties, and I have tried that approach. In my head it feels like it’s a natural consequence, but if I examine my motives, I just want to bend their will to my way. Never mind that they’re an adult, able to make up their own mind. That whole brain disorder makes me think otherwise sometimes. But as Paul wisely points out, persuasion is always better than compulsion. We just have to be willing to have our persuasive arguments fail; by returning Onesimus to Philemon with arguments of persuasion, Paul risks Onesimus’ execution if Philemon is unconvinced. Such is the risk of persuasion.

As a way of trying to convince Philemon, Paul agrees to pay any debts owed by Onesimus. In this different era, where slavery is not customary or accepted, I struggle with the notion that reparations are due because of a slave’s actions; I’m far more comfortable with the notion that reparations are due because of the slave-owner’s actions. But at that time, Paul’s offer was generous and hopefully convincing. He’s offering to repay the debts of a person, to free that person. Um, sort of like Jesus.

Finally, Paul argues to Philemon that his separation from Onesimus was perhaps a set up so Onesimus could return as brother, rather than slave. This would allow reunification without the horrible power differential that existed before.

This morning, I’m thinking about relationships that change into something better. With my sick loved one, I believe we are slowly turning our relationship from one with a significant power differential (parent), to one of more collaboration (caregiver). We remain to parents to be sure, but hopefully we’re able to be reunified without that power differential.

Apr 21 2022 Day 327 Ephesians 3:1–4:32

I pray that you may have the power to comprehend, with all the saints, what is the breadth and length and height and depth, and to know the love of Christ that surpasses knowledge, so that you may be filled with all the fullness of God.



In my current world of rehabbing a 100+ year old house, I’ve been measuring things, a lot. Quarter round, shelving, doors, floorboards, plywood. In my current world, things have three dimensions. I think it’s not coincidental, that Paul uses four dimensions to describe God’s love. That covers everything we know, plus some. I’m not sure which of Paul’s measurements becomes the magical fourth dimension. But from a quick internet search, the fourth dimension is something in the space-time continuum. It’s safe to say it’s something I don’t understand. But God loves me even there.

It’s certainly coincidental that the accompanying reflection for this section of the sequential reading of the Bible is from Madeline L’Engle. In addition to being a worthy theologian, she wrote the novel, “A Wrinkle in Time”, which has something to do with the fourth dimension. Note to self: reread A Wrinkle in Time.

In the reflection, L’Engle writes about her son and his to-be-expected tantrums as a toddler. He’d misbehave, and then run over to his mother. It was as if he was being horrible, knew it, and also knew he needed his mother’s love precisely when he was least lovable. She’d hug him and hold him until the angry beast left and her son was there, reaffirmed of his parent’s love, precisely when he needed it.

She writes that it is the same for her and God, “When I am at my most monstrous, I am most in need of love”. She continues, “I am not lovable when I am enraged, although it is when I most need love”. It’s when she lashes out, shakes her fist, and strikes out in anger and fear that God holds her tight. God loves us even then, even when our monstrous behavior means we are very hard to love.

I am very grateful for her analogy, both because of what it says about God’s love, and about a child’s lashing out. My adult child with the significant brain disorder of schizophrenia frequently lashes out, and is frequently unlovable. At those moments more than any other, we need to hold them, to make sure that they know they’re loved even at their worst. Certainly we fail sometimes as parents to do that, to hug and hold and show love, because we are not the ones with unconditional, irrational love.

But when we cannot show that love, because their behavior is so bad, or we cannot get close enough to the cornered beast they’ve become, I need to do whatever I can to make sure they know that even then, God loves them. God is the one with irrational, unconditional, unwarranted love, both for my loved one and me.

Dec 24 2021 Day 260 Mark 4:1–5:43



He replied, “My name is Legion; for we are many.”



Jesus heals the demoniac in Gerasene. The man lived in the tombs and no chains could restrain him. Night and day, he howled and bruised himself with stones. When asked his name, the man replied that his name is Legion, for we are many. A legion was a unit of soldiers in the Roman army, anywhere from 3,000 to 6,000. Jesus demands that the spirit leave the man, the spirits enter a herd of pigs who launch themselves off the cliff.

When you read this story, you have a better sense of the torment of this man. When you live through the torment of this man, you have a better sense of this story.

For the past three long years, my loved one has battled schizophrenia and severe bi-polar disease. These are brain disorders, not unlike Parkinson’s or Alzheimer’s, and yet they have vastly different connotations. We feel bad for people with the latter diseases, and scoff at those with the former. If not scoff, certainly we don’t afford people with schizophrenia the same sympathy.

My loved one hears voices, sees things, and has delusions. The delusions are things that they believe that aren’t consistent with my understanding of the world. They believe they’re married to a famous rapper. The voices and visual things are hallucinations, things they see, hear or feel that I don’t. Most of their voices are friendly, including one of the famous rapper to whom they’re married. We’ve been out to dinner where we had to leave a chair for their husband, or moved where we sat in the car, to make room for the rapper. There are times our loved one wishes they could have some peace from the voices, and there are times they are lonely because the voices have been temporarily silenced.

The voices make them distracted. There’s a YouTube audio of a simulation of what it’s like to have audio hallucinations. I would commend you to put headphones on, and try to make it through. It’s very distracting, and troubling, as the voices are unfriendly and telling the person they’re garbage and don’t know anything. There’s also a video on YouTube of Anderson Cooper trying to do some basic tasks while listening to the audio simulation. He cannot follow simple directions. It’s startling and depressing. And it’s no wonder that people with unmedicated hallucinations are so aloof; they’re deeply engaged in an involuntary world in their head.

Our loved one will occasionally look towards where they’ve heard a voice, as if they’re looking at someone to respond. It’s a clinical sign of hallucinations that helps healthcare providers.

And like the poor man in the story today, our loved one has referred to themselves in the plural, saying ‘we are hungry’, or referring to themselves in the third person, because it’s one of their voices that’s responding to us. Knowing about Legion, and his explanation that ‘we are many’, when my loved one did this the first time, the hair on the back of my neck stood up. I knew they were responding for the many.

Of the past three Christmases we’ve shared with schizophrenia, two involved significant crises and long term hospitalizations. One involved running through Portland without clothes because the voices told them to. One involved catatonia, such slow motion and cognitive distance they could not safely cross the street. Between the two Christmas crises, they experienced three months of inpatient psychiatric hospitalization. Last year, we made it through Christmas although the stress makes things harder for them. 2021 involved at least four hospitalizations, of at least 45 days, although it could be more. It’s hard to remember sometimes.

After a tumultuous trip to Pittsburgh, our loved one has been stable-ish. We have been able to again share Christmas traditions with them that have been shelved for the past three years. I don’t think we’re done with the crises, but for now, there’s peace.

The man from Gerasene may have had demons. He may have had a significant brain disorder. Or maybe the two are the same thing. I read this story with a deep sense of sadness about the man’s lost years and the community’s shunning of him. I read this story with a deep sense of sadness about my loved one’s lost years and the community’s shunning of them.

Nov 24 2021 Day 236 Zephaniah 1-3



For I will leave in the midst of you a people humble and lowly. They shall seek refuge in the name of the LORD.

Zephaniah, Zephaniah, Zephaniah. Just when I’d thought I’d warmed up to the prophets, or at least to Habakkuk, along comes Zephaniah with another dire, Eeyore-like prophecy.

In my mornings, I wake up around 5:30, read the appointed section of scripture and plan to write. I have a beautiful candle that I light, to signal to my husband to let me sit in peace. More importantly, I use the candle to signal to me to be quiet and stay focused. I sit with a cup of coffee, read, think and write. It takes about 40 minutes, and it’s a beautiful way for me to start my day.

Alas, this morning, it didn’t happen. My loved one came down at 6:15, with a cup of coffee in hand. Apparently, they’d already been down and visited my husband for a cup of coffee at 5:00. And boy, were they chatty. It turns out they’ve been up since 1:00, watching movies and interacting with the voices in their head. Perfectly happy, mind you, but very much awake and chatty.

Today, the plan was supposed to be that after the morning gym and shower, we’d wake up our loved one, have breakfast, then all head to the airport to pick up our son who’ll be here until Sunday. Our loved one has had a flaky sleep schedule, so we were trying to have them sleep until it was time to go to the airport. This will be their first time to the airport since the crisis episode in Atlanta, when we were all pulled off the plane.

Since 1:00, they’ve visited her husband at his house in her head and watched movies with her husband. They talked with someone on the phone from 2:00AM – 4:00AM (for real), ate food, talked to her husband.

Since they’ve come down to see us, we’ve talked about past crises. At one point, they ran away while we were living in Portland. They were very hungry, so they stole chocolate and a soda, because otherwise, they’d starve. We explained we would always feed them, and were reminded that at the time, they believed we were raping them, so of course they wouldn’t come home.

We’ve heard about the myriad of voices they have in their head. The main voice is the voice of her husband, a famous rapper. There are other voices that are sometimes talking as well. Mostly the voices are friendly, but sometimes the voices are loud when our loved one is trying to sleep or rest. Incessant, sometimes.

We’ve heard about their music. They make music using Garage Band, and while the beat is good, and their ability to keep up with the beat with lyrics, in my assessment, the music wouldn’t warrant a recording contract. But last night, they sent their music to a couple dozen legitimate artists and recording companies.

Now we’re hearing about the order of the music that they’re going to play when they have their stage show. They’ve found a venue in Pittsburgh to rent, and now they’re figuring out how to sell tickets online. Originally, the tickets were going to be $96 because that’s what famous people charge. Now, the tickets are down to $36, at our urging. Start smaller.

Now, we’re trying to figure out our day’s timing, with the no-sleep loved one. In addition to wanting to have toasted bagels made by my husband, they want to make baked potatoes for lunch. And we have to pick up our son at 10:45, and then get them to a shot appointment for a long-acting injectable anti-psychotic at 2:00.

All the while, Zephaniah is beckoning me. But today, I was graced with 50 minutes of stream-of-consciousness from my loved one with the significant brain disorder. Instead of insisting on quiet so I could spend time with Zephaniah, I enjoyed the time with the family. Today, you got to spend time with the stream-of-consciousness with my loved one too. See you tomorrow, Zephaniah.

Nov 20 2021 Day 233 Micah 5:1–7:20

Do not rejoice over me, O my enemy; when I fall, I shall rise; when I sit in darkness, the LORD will be a light to me.

There is a well-known, and oft-repeated phrase from Micah that was also in this morning’s appointed readings. Do justice, love kindness, and walk humbly with your God. That has always warmed my heart. Reading it in context, it’s even better. The people are trying to make amends with God after more bad behavior. Whatever can we do, they cry. Can I give 10,000 rivers of oil? Calves a year old? My firstborn child? No. What God asks is that you do justice, love kindness, and walk humbly. It’s in response to our desire to assuage our conscience with things, that God responds that we need to believe, love and act differently. Yes! Simple, but not easy.

But this morning, I was struck more by a bit that follows that powerful command. When I fall, I shall rise, when I sit in darkness, the Lord will be a light to me. This resonates deeply with me, because of falling, rising, darkness and light I’ve experienced in the past few years. It’s not that I want to fall, or be in the dark. But how wonderful to be reminded that when I fall, I will rise. And when I’m in the dark, God can be my light. Notice that it’s not that God makes the darkness go away, but rather God can be my light in the midst of the darkness.

The greatest darkness in which I sit now relates to the health, safety and happiness of my loved one with the significant brain disorder. I don’t know how that will resolve. I don’t see a graceful way out of the darkness. The disease is permanent, even if its symptoms decrease. The effects of past hospitalizations and psychoses is irreversible. The meds are dangerous, with a list of side effects that should frighten anyone. And the less-than-stellar choices my loved one is making now are risky. And having said all of that, God is with me. God is with my loved one, in that darkness.

We are in a period of relative stability and normalcy and it’s wonderful to see glimpses of the person pre-disease. And we know there will be subsequent crises and hospitalizations; it’s the nature of the disease. But at this moment, it feels like I have risen from the last fall, and the darkness isn’t that dark.

In all our lives, there are periods of rising, falling, darkness and light. To hold on to the image that when I fall, I will rise, and that when it’s dark, God will be my light is deeply comforting because those harder times will come. Holding on to the knowledge of God’s presence and persistence in my life is just what I need. This morning, I’m thinking about falling, rising, darkness and light.

Day 218 Ezekiel 38:1–42:20

He brought me, in visions of God, to the land of Israel, and set me down upon a very high mountain



During the 25th year of exile, God brought Ezekiel to the place of the Holy Temple, eventually restored in Jerusalem. The next many chapters of Ezekiel recount the precise measurements of the outer court, window recesses, placement of cherubim, measurements of the nave, inner sanctuary, altar, etc. I must admit I glossed over some of the descriptions, as they recounted the east side, north side, south side, inner and outer sanctum, and seemingly every window placement. But clearly it is a grand restored Temple, and the descriptors are intended to illustrate just how precise and grand it is.

This section follows a prophecy about another bad ruler and his kingdom, that God will destroy, so the ruler knows that God is Lord. The bad dude is Gog, and I must admit that I thought it was a typo, or maybe a dyslexic combination of the God/dog jokes. But no, Gog was a bad ruler.

I mention all of this to indicate that I was skimming, and reading without much depth. Long descriptions of cubit-measured temples, and ancient rulers I’ve never heard of can do that to me. And again, in the midst of that skimming was this little clause that precedes the walk-through of the new temple. He brought me [from my place of exiled captivity], in visions of God, to the land of Israel…. Isn’t this ancient time teleporting?

I’ve never heard of a more modern-day credible faith-based teleporting experience. Maybe they exist, and I just don’t know. All I’ve heard about are examples that sound like something from Star Trek.

I’ve had experiences where I’m transported, frequently in dreams, and they make no sense. But they definitely seem real at the time.

This morning, I’m thinking about significant brain disorders like schizophrenia. People, like my loved one, experience hallucinations where they are transported to very real places. These visions or experiences happen when they’re awake; they don’t have the luxury of ‘waking up’ from the dream, as I do. Our loved one can talk about experiences and places in very real terms, that didn’t happen, at least given my knowledge of their life history.

I am not suggesting Ezekiel was hallucinating. But if I’m willing to believe his other-worldly experience, why am I so quick to dismiss my loved one’s? Who am I to say that the fantastical experiences didn’t happen? This morning, I’m thinking about the very small difference between holy experiences and hallucinations, and wondering why one is culturally acknowledged as plausible, while the other is not.

 It's been a while for a mental health update. That is actually great news, as it means that things have calmed down a bit since our last crisis. 

First of all, I've been schooled on the vernacular. There are many advocates in the field who've walked away from the idea of 'mental illness' or even mental health. 

Schizophrenia and bi-polar are serious brain diseases, not well understood, and mostly only managed rather than cured.  They affect the brains of the afflicted, and renders them not like the people they once were, although they look the same. 

Parkinson's, Alzheimer's and Lou Gehrig's Disease are a serious brain diseases, not well understood, and mostly only managed rather than cured. they affect the brains of the afflicted and renders them not like the people they once were although they look the same.

If you describe Parkinson's, Alzheimer's, schizophrenia and bi-polar, they are strikingly similar. And yet.. We would never say that someone with Parkinson's has a mental illness.  We would never wait for a person with Alzheimer's to actually harm someone before we hospitalized them for their own benefit. We would not allow someone with Alzheimer's to deny treatment, because we would have compassion on the fact they don't know they're sick enough to need treatment.  

When someone with Alzheimer's gets lost on the streets, the police are sent to find and return them to care. When someone with schizophrenia gets lost on the streets, the police are sent to arrest and jail them. 

So, my loved one has a serious brain disorder. Words matter, and I will fail and refer to mental illness, but know that I would never refer to my mother-in-law with Alzheimer's as having mental illness. I will try to do better.  

My loved one with a significant brain disorder has been home in our new community and house for two months.  They've been med-compliant for two months. Their meds have changed a bit, with a higher twice-daily dose of a mood stabilizer to address the bi-polar manic symptoms, and a monthly long-acting injectable antipsychotic for the hallucinations and delusions. Our loved one is finding the side effects much easier to tolerate, as well as finding the meds more helpful, particularly for the manic episodes. To be clear, manic episodes are not necessarily excessively happy. They're just excessive- really really excessive.  Our loved one is also a little resigned that life seems better for the rest of us when they take their meds.  It helps that our loved one lives on the second floor, has enough autonomy to largely make their own decisions, and that I bring up the meds twice a day. They've not declined or argued to take them even once.  This is a huge win/win.  This is not likely to be a permanent improvement. The nature of the disease is that it is cyclical, and the efficacy of meds changes over time. We will likely face another crisis and hospitalization, but for now we have a med-induced truce.  

This is probably the most stable we have seen our loved one in over five years. One of the interesting things about schizophrenia is that there are two kinds of symptoms, those that add to the personality - like hallucinations and delusions, and those that take away from the personality - like loss of executive functioning, impulse control, normal social interactions. The symptoms that take away parts of personality can occur for five years or more before the noticeable additive symptoms. For our loved one, we observed what is referred to as a psychotic break in December 2018. But in hindsight, the symptoms that removed parts of their personality had been present for years before that.  To us, it looked like normal teenage bad behavior, if not a little excessive. It's probably been nearly 10 years where their behavior has been affected by this disease. And now, with the new-found med-compliance, things are much more like they were before.  It's lovely. And unfortunately, not permanent.  

This is also the first time in at least three years when our loved one has been able to go out, meet real people, and socialize. In the recent past, our loved one's interactions have largely been with people online, with interactions with our loved one's 60,000+ Instagram followers (truth). This social media presence has further supported our loved one's belief that they are famous, which in a way they are. But now, they're able to also go out and meet people.  For this, my husband and I are exceedingly glad.

The greatest challenge is that now, we're living with a young adult who is able to make their own decisions about when to go out, who to see, who to bring home, and how to behave. For many years, we had to deal with a social media presence that we didn't necessarily love, but now we have people coming in the house. Now our loved one goes out late at night, and like all normal parents, we worry.  We've had to have conversations with our loved one about how we're learning how to peacefully coexist, and love and support them, and about any boundaries we need to place for us.  But like all adult children, our boundaries need to focus on us and our needs, rather than on our expectations of what they'll do or not do. We can certainly tell our loved one what we hope they'll do or choose. And we can tell them what we expect, as they're behavior affects us. For example, if you miss an appointment for us to take you to the grocery store, we'll go again when it's convenient for us, not necessarily when you awaken. 

It's definitely a challenge to remember that they should be allowed to make their choices, and that we don't get to rule their life. We've actually had a great conversation about how we're learning to live together in this new house and community, so we all need to have a little grace as we figure it out, both us and them. 

So for now, the significant brain disorder is at bay. So now is the time we're working with them on normal young adult things like budgeting, and shopping, etc.  At some point, the illness will rear its ugly head, and we'll be back in crisis mode. For now, peace.  Or at least peace-ish. 

Oct 2 2021 Day 193 Isaiah 49:1–52:12

Who among you fears the LORD and obeys the voice of his servant, who walks in darkness and has no light, yet trusts in the name of the LORD and relies upon his God?

This is an interesting concept, that we can trust in the Lord and rely on God and still be in darkness. Personally, I rather like the notion that to rely in God means that my path will be illumined. Alas, it is not always so. Trusting in God does not mean darkness doesn’t come, or that we can quickly pass through that darkness. It does mean that we are not alone in the darkness.

The accompanying reflection is from Richard Foster and he suggests that this darkness comes to all of us at one time or another. We feel lost and we don’t know our way. Even if we did know the way, it’s dark and we can’t see anyway. He suggests this is another way to think of the dark night of the soul, a time where we feel distanced from God, and out of sorts. We have such a shiny happy culture that no one is comfortable with this sense of distance or darkness. We who go through it want to rush, and those around us suggest we should snap out of it.

Foster argues that we should rather abide in that darkness, with our trust and reliance in God. God will carry us through, in God’s time. Until then, we are to be in the still and silent darkness with a deep faith in God. Maybe these dark times are a way for all of the shiny busy things in our lives to be stripped away, so we actually can be still and silent. I like the notion of stillness and silence, and struggle to actually find any in my life.

I’m thinking of the late night awakenings, when I cannot get back to sleep. I don’t like that silence and stillness. Tomorrow, I have things to do, places to be. I cannot just lie awake now as it will ruin my plans for tomorrow. Um, maybe that’s just a mini opportunity for stillness, silence and resting with God. This morning, well rested, I can imagine that next night-time awakening, I’ll contentedly lie awake and pray and be grateful for the time. But in the midst of that little mini-darkness, it is really really tough to rest in anything. If I cannot manage to abide in that relatively brief darkness, it’s hard to imagine contentedly resting in God for a whole dark season. And yet, that’s what we should try to do.

My loved one is doing amazingly well, medically. For the past 6 weeks, they’ve been med-compliant, and connecting with us in ways we haven’t for probably 10 years. They are very grateful for our new town, where there are more people who look like them than look like us. This has not been true since they were a baby. They are making friends, and navigating our neighborhood quite well.

The good part of this is their increased independence and decreased reliance on us. The hard part is their increased independence and decreased reliance on us. They are now making life choices that more closely reflect what a ‘normal’ wild child would do. With their past 4 years being very ill, they seem to be also catching up on some of that wildness. And through it all, they are immensely happy.

I would love to be able to control and regulate their every move, their every friend, their every choice. We have done that to some extent for the past four years, and they were definitely not happy. The insidious illness would make it difficult for anyone to be happy.

I’m faced with the Sophie’s choice of my loved one’s safety and their happiness. And I feel very much in the dark. I’m slowly realizing that happiness is the only real choice. First of all, they have not been genuinely happy for so long. And the nature of this illness is such that their time of darkness and likely hospitalization will come again. This happiness is fleeting for them. More realistic though, I’m realizing I cannot actually do much to make a young adult safe. I cannot control their actions, their comings and goings, their friends, their choices.

My husband and I are struggling to remember how to support someone who’s defiant, less than safe, and happy. In this darkness, all I can do is remember that God is with me, and with my loved one, enjoy this time of happiness, and try to stay out of the way.

How do you define risk of self to harm or others? Words matter.

Whew. What a whirlwind few days, and what a difference location makes. 

Our loved one was hospitalized in the local psychiatric hospital five days ago. Two days ago, we had a hearing to see if they would be kept longer than the original 5 day hold.  

The directions we received to prepare for the hearing were spectacular. We were told to identify all instances where our loved one was a danger to self, danger to others or unable to care for themself for the past 30 days. This may not sound like a big deal, but it's huge!  The national standard is that someone's civil liberties can be curtailed if they are at risk of harm to self, others or unable to care for themselves. The problem comes in defining what precisely that means. It may seem like splitting hairs, but it really is a huge deal. 

In Oregon, risk of harm to self or others, or inability to care for oneself has been defined by the courts as needing to be imminent, meaning that the person is about to be a risk of harm to self or others, or about to be unable to take care of themself.  How, precisely, are we to prove that our loved one is in the future, about to be a risk of harm to self or others? 

The fact that the test in Oregon and many other states points to a yet-to-occur action is absurd.  Innocent until proven guilty is looking at action that's taken place in the past. But for people with significant mental illness in these states, past action has no bearing on this test. The fact that our loved one was hospitalized numerous times, threatened our life, ran naked through town in winter weather, stole a hammer to kill their spouse - none of this was relevant to hearings. What we had to do was to prove that they were at imminent risk of harm to self or others.  It's absurd that the standard to get protective medical care is based on my crystal ball. it's even more absurd that I was asked to predict the behavior of someone with significant mental illness.  

Compare that with Pennsylvania, where the standard is based on the past 30 days of behavior and activity.  I can absolutely demonstrate that my love one was a risk of harm to self, others or unable to care for themself based on the previous 30 days of behavior.  

In Oregon, a bill was proposed last year to clarify precisely this issue, to specify that the standard that judges should consider is the past 30 days of activity, not the potential of imminent future harm. The bill was killed by being sent to a committee from which it never came out.  

At the hearing yesterday, the psychiatrist recommended that our loved one remain committed for 20 days with inpatient and/or outpatient care. Our loved one agreed, in large part because they trusted their doctor. 

Over the next 20 days, we'll work with the care team to provide the least restrictive, most supportive and most appropriate services for our loved one. I expect them to be released within a week-ish, and we'll begin to take advantage of another great difference in the systems.  Pennsylvania has a more robust mandatory outpatient treatment system, which provides our loved one with more structure and accountability for their recovery after release from the hospital. It also provides my husband and me more support in the job of caregiving.

In the past 30 days, our loved one has been in a facility 75% of the time, between jail and two different hospitals. They are a risk of harm to self or others, and most definitely unable to care for their own basic needs.  Thanks to the standard that allows me to demonstrate that, rather than predict it. 

  

And it started so well

 

As we were flying to move from Portland, OR to Pittsburgh, we had a stop over in Atlanta, that for our loved one, turned into a 2 week psychiatric hospital stay. Sunday, Aug 15, my husband and I made the 11 hour drive from Pittsburgh to Atlanta to pick up our loved on Monday morning. 

By 9:45, we were all in the car, ready to make the 11 hour trip back. Things started so well. They were very happy to see us, and full of stories about their husband, their friends they'd originally met in Africa but were in the hospital in Atlanta, and the other fantastical stories. I'm reminded that this state of psychosis is likened to dreaming, bits of reality, aspirations, fears, present, past, and future all muddled together with no logical connections. 

Not sure when things started going south, but they definitely did. They refused to get back in the car at a rest stop in West Virginia in part because I refused to help them hold their male private parts when they pee (they don't have any), and talked non-stop for 12 hours. The talk started chatty enough, but turned rancorous, for no reason apparent to my husband or I.  Several times they threatened to jump out of the car, unbuckling their seatbelt. Meanwhile we were driving through nasty rain, and equally threatening flash flood warnings that followed us through the dark, windey and unfamiliar roads of West Virginia and rural Pennsylvania.  The low point was when our loved one threw a hot piece of pizza at my husband's head as he was navigating all of this treacherous driving. We swerved momentarily, pulled off the highway, tried to get everyone to calm down, and continued on. At that point, we still had nearly 3 hours of dark, rainy driving to go..  

As we got closer to Pittsburgh, the rain stopped, and the worst of the vitriolic chatter had ceased, but it was nearing midnight. We tried to get everyone settled down, as my husband and I headed to that kind of sleep where you're too wired, but know you need to try.  Within an hour, our loved one came in the bedroom and asked for us to come join them in their room, because they saw the boogey man outside.  The fear in their eyes and voice was real.  My husband wonderfully sat on the bed with them for another hour to try to get them to calm down and go to sleep.  Alas, no.  Another hour later, they returned and wanted us to take them to the store. Um, no.  

With earplugs, we finally got a few hours of sleep. They returned to our room at 6:00 promptly to ask if we were getting up and could we get them coffee. I decided to take the morning shift, since my husband had taken the night shift. I made us both a cup of coffee, and then decided we should go out to breakfast to  give my husband a few more hours of sleep. We ate breakfast, picked up some medicine, and returned home.  The whole time, though our loved one remained agitated, and had confused thinking. To be clear, this is not the same as slow, stupid or conniving.  During breakfast, they talked about how they were a "hermaphrodite", and were upset because they were "lactating" (being pregnant in their mind). Their thoughts are confused, and disconnected from my reality, but 100% real to them, not manipulative or slow.   Their agitation this likely due to the underlying illness, new circumstances and no sleep for at least 18 hours.  

I made a call to the local crisis line and asked for resources. Not unlike ERs that are used for primary care, there is a psychiatric hospital in town, and its ER is frequently used for intake for primary care.  We were supposed to get them connected with a local physician this week anyway, so they agreed to go to the ER, to get assessed and then connected with a psychiatrist.  

Their agitation continued, and they started yelling at the hospital.  After several hours, a petition by the hospital staff to the courts, a physical and psychological assessment, they were again admitted to the hospital involuntarily for seven days.  Later this week, there will be a hearing to determine whether they will be required to stay longer.

We got them to Pittsburgh, and within 24 hours of arriving got them connected with top notch, responsive services.  We'll continue to unpack and now have a little breathing room to get their space set up so it's ready upon their release.  

And now, we sleep.  

What a difference a day makes

 Yesterday, my husband and I headed to the town where our loved one was being held in jail. They'd entered the home of strangers, believing the house was theirs.  They'd also stolen packages off of porches, but did not get arrested for that. Desperate times call for desperate measures. 

There was a slight chance that the arresting officer would be able to cobble together enough evidence that our loved one should be involuntarily transported to the psychiatric hospital; the officer had to believe that our loved one was 1) risk of harm to self (suicidal), 2) risk of harm to others (homicidal) or 3) unable to meet basic needs (at imminent risk of death by self neglect).  This information was not likely to come until later in the afternoon so we began a long day of waiting.  Thanks to some friends in town, some of that time was spent sipping ice water in the shade and watching them revel in their two little boys. 

Alas, the officer did not feel our loved one met the high bar for involuntary transport; the bar has effectively been raised, in my opinion, by over-zealous civil liberty rights advocates, and an over obliging judicial system, which has rendered the involuntary commitment laws toothless. 

Thanks to the prosecuting attorney, we were notified that he would be dropping the arrest charges, needed to get a judges signature, and then our loved one would be released to the street.  And so we waited some more. 

By 3:00, our loved one walked out of the jail, and spotted our car. My husband went over to talk to them, and we were not certain whether they'd come with us, or choose the path of abject homelessness.  They first agreed to get in the car so we could take them to get a pack of cigarettes. For any critics (including my inner voice) who question the choice of cigarettes, it absolutely is consistent with the concept of harm reduction.  If you can't eliminate all risk, chose the path with the least harm inflicted. Cigarettes are more harmless than homelessness.  

Our loved one and my husband stood outside the convenience store, while our loved one smoked several cigarettes. They were not making any sense. My husband likened it to a stream of consciousness dream state. People you know, mixing with celebrities, mixing with monsters, in one setting and then jumping to an entire new scene.  Mostly the monologue was happy-ish. There was talk of the president, Trump, God, our loved one's husband, the husband's new girlfriend, real childhood scenes, warped with accusations, or grandiose notions of power. My favorite was that the toilets in jail were very powerful. Our loved one got a muffin, and flushed the whole thing down the toilet to feed their goldfish. 

Finally, they agreed to return to Portland, and the stream of consciousness conversation continued for the two hour drive, plus a cigarette stop.  We stopped for take out and came home to eat on the porch, where the chatter continued. 

They crashed around 8:00, and were quiet until about 1:00am, when they got up, sung, made food, walked in and out of the house, came in to ask us what time it was, took a shower - constant motion until we finally conceded and awoke at 4:45am. They came out and asked if I'd make them a cup of coffee. The three of us went outside on a rare warm Portland morning, drinking coffee, and they continued the monologue. 

Before yesterday, we'd hoped our loved one would be hospitalized, stabilized, and we'd move our stuff and selves to Pittsburgh during that stabilizing respite. That plan is out the window.

Our loved one so dislikes Portland, that they're willing to move to Pittsburgh, if we go NOW.  So plan C (or is it D) is to pack three carry on bags, and a cat-filled cat carrier, and book flights for early next week. We had significantly downsized when we moved to Portland, so we would have needed to purchase some basic household items anyway. Now, we'll probably order over the weekend, for pick up when we arrive so we have some basics. Things like a couple mattresses, sheets, some cookware, a TV to keep our loved one entertained. My husband will return a few days later to Portland and complete the house pack-up. He'll fill and send off  the self-pack trailer, and head off in the car by himself.  

That's the plan as of 7:45am.  Could change 5 times before the end of the day. 

For now, I'm extremely grateful our loved one is back, and safe. Our move will be significantly less orderly than we'd originally imagined, but with God's grace, we'll get there. Thanks to everyone for the good thoiughts and prayers. Keep it up.  It ain't over yet.  

Jul 29 2021 Day 155 Psalms 137:1–140:13

You know when I sit down and when I rise up; you discern my thoughts from far away.

Ah, music. Music has the power to turn words into prayers. When I lived in Eugene, I had the great honor of singing with the Greater Eugene Sacred Choir, a multi-denominational choir with great compositions, instrumentation, and fellow singers. We sang a song set to Psalm 139. I’m sure it said that in the header of the music, but I could never have told you where the lyrics were from, without the music in front of me. Today, when I read Psalm 139, I was flooded with warm memories of singing those words. Never again will I forget that Search me o Lord is from Psalm 139.

And what words they are! Search me O Lord, and know my heart. You know my coming and going, my sitting and standing. God knows all. God knows my heart. God knows my joys and sorrows, my stated, as well as my true intentions. Before words are in my mouth, God knows.

To believe this is both comforting and frightening. For God to know everything, I must believe that God knows all the dark and twisted bits. God knows those parts of me I hide from everyone, including myself. That notion of being completely seen is frightening, because we’ve all been trained to believe that love is somewhat conditional. I love you, but not if you hurt me. I love you, but not if you hurt yourself. I love you, but I love you more if you fill my image of who you are. For God to know our hearts and our words before they’re spoken means that all of our parts that are not light and love are seen by God. Horrors.

But the great comfort is that God’s love is not conditional. It is not dependent upon anything. It does not depend on our goodness or our portrayal of goodness. God loves us. Period. God, in Jesus Christ, loved the very people who were putting him to death. Forgive them, for they know not what they do. God in Jesus Christ allowed humanity to kill God in Jesus Christ, to show just how far God’s love will go.

God knows my standing up and sitting down. God is before and behind me. The darkness is not dark to God. The darkest night is like day. My darkest bits are enlightened and brightened by God’s immeasurable light and love. So to be fully known, to be fully seen by God is actually a beautiful thing, once we get past the notion that God’s love is limited or conditional.

This morning, I’m thinking about how grateful for God’s ever-present and unconditional love. That makes me much less afraid of the dark.

Lather, Rinse, Repeat

Yesterday, I was pretty excited. We'd connected with a few professionals who'd offered as much help as this hamstrung 'non-system' can provide. An attorney suggested that the jail staff could transport our loved one to the hospital. The hospital crisis worker agreed to be on the watch for the ER admittance, and it looked like we were going to be able to get our loved on into the hospital, where our legal guardianship would allow us to secure treatment. This took hours of phone calls with the public defender, prosecuting attorney, jail, behavioral health unit at the hospital, back with the prosecuting attorney, etc.

Alas, it all unravelled at the end of the day, when we learned that our loved one is being a model inmate, and there is no risk of harm to self or others, so they cannot involuntary transport. Our loved one was deemed not healthy enough to stay in jail, or to face the charges, but apparently not sick enough to infringe on their civil liberties and freedom, in order to transport to the hospital. To be clear, the hospital would most likely have admitted our loved one, but we cannot get them to the hospital.

Today, the prosecuting attorney is likely to dismiss the charges, which will result in my loved one being released to the streets.

Meanwhile, we received their state ID in the mail which some kind soul mailed to us, having found it in the street. So our loved one has no ID, no money, no lucidity. And certainly will reoffend. They will steal for food, trespass for a place to sleep, be publicly indecent to pee, and that's just covering basic human needs. Throw in the delusions of owning several homes in the neighborhood, and I expect that they'll also enter homes uninvited, and explain to the shocked homeowners that this is their house.  I pray they don't have a gun. 

Today, I cannot imagine how the non-system is designed in a way that is willing to arrest and jail my loved one with a serious brain disease, acknowledges that they are too sick to face charges, is unable to transport the hospital, because of my loved one's civil rights, but is willing to dump her on the streets.

A different kind of waiting game

 

Yesterday, my husband went to the town where we believed our loved one to be. He drove around the regular spots, and didn't see her.

He had also received a call from the crisis response team (thank you, thank you, thank you) about a possible siting in a neighboring town. He went to that neighborhood and asked around, and someone had spotted our loved one. They reported seeing them in contact with the city police.

This sent my husband to the police station, where he confirmed that our loved one had been arrested and was currently lodged in jail, with a $75 bail, which they don't have. They've spent 4 days and nights in jail, and have not tried to contact us. 

It appears that they'd again entered other people's houses (multiple), claiming that the house was theirs. Given the fact that they've told us they've purchased several homes, I suspect this is absolutely their truth. Unfortunately, the current owners of the homes don't agree. The good news is that none of the owners were trigger-happy gun owners.

There is a website where vigilante justice types take public photos from jail bookings, and repost the page, and then the comments begin. It's like a sporting event. Our loved one was in two separate strings, one about stealing a package off someone's front porch, and the other about the home invasion. The good news is that we learned more about our loved one's activity, including standing in a busy street, refusing to let a bus pass.  This information will be helpful as we try to get them the help they need. 

Unfortunately, the comments were also horribly mean and hurtful.  The comments ranged from poor crazy lady to waste of breath, to trashy POS.  It was heartbreaking to read. 

I did respond to one especially nasty comment who was asking who this trashy person was, and why their parents weren't helping. I explained that we were trying, that I didn't think they were a waste of space, and I posted a photo of us all during better times.  

Today, we will reach out to the prosecuting and defense attorneys, to see if there's any way to use their current lodging to our advantage. Meanwhile, we will sleep better, knowing they're safe.  

So now, we wait to see how the judicial system and mental health system can hopefully work together to help get our loved one the care that's so desperately needed.  

Update

Very early yesterday morning, our loved one called, after being gone for 36 hours. They explained that they were at the Eugene bus station, the city where we lived 3 years ago. My husband needed to pick them up ASAP, and take them to another state. They didn't want to be in Eugene, or in Portland. 

They insisted the conversation be hushed, because the FBI had put tracking devices on them.  My husband tried to explain that if he drove the 2 hours to pick them up, they'd be returning to Portland. They were insistent they weren't going to return, and again reiterated their request to be picked up. 

We've pieced together that we think they left our home in the evening of Monday, 7/19, and spent the night somewhere in Portland. We heard them come into the house and into their bedroom very early the morning of Tuesday 7/20, but then they left immediately. 

We didn't hear anything until yesterday morning, Wednesday 7/21, when they were in Eugene, allegedly.  Presuming that was true, they'd gone to Eugene some how on Tuesday, and spent Tuesday night in Eugene, calling us early Wednesday morning.  

It turns out the Greyhound bus station moved to a neighboring city, so we spoke with the police from that city to see if their mobile crisis team could check to see if they were there. Gratefully, they did check, but didn't find her. We followed up with the crisis team from Eugene, the well regarded CAHOOTS team, and they also checked the local bus station but didn't find them. CAHOOTS called back about 10 minutes later, explaining that they'd found her at the Amtrak station, which I believe runs busses between Portland and Eugene, hence the bus station reference.  My husband and I would never have checked the train station. So grateful for the professionals who did. Our loved one was easy to identify with the pink bike helmet with spikes on the top. This was our loved one's contact with CAHOOTS in 3 months, and like the previous contact, they did not want to go with the crisis team, because there's nothing wrong with them. Besides, they explained, John was going to be picking them up shortly. 

With confirmation that they were in Eugene, we prepared to go,. I offered to tag along to offer support, although if I weren't careful, I could easily escalate things. I offered to only speak if my husband spoke to me, but otherwise, let their barbs or illogical comments go unanswered.  My husband would be immensely better at this, and I'd be there to support him, and step in if my skills were needed. 

We drove down, wondering what we'd find.  It turns out, we found nothing. Our loved one was no where to be found. We recontacted that police, who noted on the police log that yes, the crisis team had contacted her, and then they received a second call about her and sent officers to check. But they didn't find her either. 

We trolled through town until lunchtime, when we found a favorite old spot and took a break with lunch and yes, we split a beer.  Then we made one more pass through town, and found a quiet park, were we reclined in our seats and took a quick power nap. 

Our loved called us at 4:30AM from their phone, so we knew they still had their phone. If they'd wanted us to connect with them, they could have either called back, or been where they'd reported they'd be.  After multiple passes through town, to previous spots we'd found them, and to other unlikely but possible places, we returned to Portland without our loved one. 

For those following along on this journey, this feels like the crisis that never ends. But crisis seems to imply a limited duration problem.  The problem with schizophrenia is that it isn't limited. This state of 'crisis' is our new normal. Presuming we find our loved one, it will only be a matter of time before they run away again because the FBI is tracking them, because we're abusing them, because their fans want them.

Chicken Little ran around, claiming that the sky was falling. It sounded like an imminent threat, and eventually people stopped listening. That's the risk of talking about schizophrenia. The crisis may not end for another 10 years. If it's exhausting to read about, I feel you. Imagine what it's like for my loved one. 

I know of no other illness where society has allowed the ill person to be in this kind of illness-induced crisis of this severity for this long. 

I will share another update when something changes.  Until then, we wait.  

And so we wait. 

Yesterday, our loved one received a copy of their new official State ID. They legally changed their first name and last name to something that us neuro-normative people wouldn't understand and wouldn't spell correctly. They also had their passport, which was under their previous name, but was the only official ID we had. We wanted to swap the passport for the state ID, so we had at least one official ID in case it got lost. 

They did not like that, and said they were going to call the police, because we were withholding their documents. They were angry, angry, angry. 

They left before dinner, with a full armful of papers, including their civil suit against us, as well as paperwork for restraining orders, stalking orders, and divorce proceedings. They had their pink helmet on, which they wear because they're afraid we're going to hit them in the head. 

After dinner, they called and asked if we could leave their bus pass on the dining room table. They explained they were going to go fill out paperwork.. at 8:00 at night?  So we left the pass, and heard them come in, and leave again. 

They were out overnight, and have not returned. Their phone is turned off, and they have no money, and didn't take any clothes. 

We've called the crisis workers and the non-emergency police, just so folks are aware of the circumstances in case they encounter her. 

It is likely our loved one will continue to decompensate and become increasingly symptomatic.  It is likely they will end up in the custody of either the crisis workers or police, and it is likely they will be transported to an emergency department, or directly to a psychiatric hospital. 

And so we wait. 

We will wait to see if they return. We will wait to see if the police or crisis workers contact us. We will wait to see if the hospitals contact us. While we have legal guardianship, I'm certain our loved one will not share that information, and since they're coming in with a different name and ID, I'm not sure whether the hospitals would connect us to them.  

We are scheduled to have an open house for our home this weekend. This could be interesting, depending on who shows up when. 

Update

In the past few weeks, my loved one's behavior has become increasingly erratic, and unfortunately we're in the place of just waiting for something bigger and badder to happen. 

Thursday, they filed a civil lawsuit against my husband and me, for having stolen their money they've made because they're a star. The amount of damages? One million dollars. My husband, bless his accepting heart, drove them down to the court, and was around to answer questions and provide support if needed. The lawsuit was officially filed. Never thought I'd be sued for $1,000,000. I believe the next step is that we will be interviewed by case investigators.  

Our loved one also has contacted an attorney to file a restraining order against us. They see no conflict between asking for a restraining order while living in our home, and while we transport them.  In their mind, the order would protect them by preventing us from abusing them, or talking to them when they are threatened.  

Unfortunately for them,  they learned they cannot file a restraining order on someone who serves as legal guardian. So they requested that we relinquish guardianship. We graciously declined, but did offer that if they had someone else they wanted to serve as guardian we'd be happy to transfer.  

They are sensing some urgency for all of this court action, because once they receive the money due them, they'll be able to move to California, when we move to Pittsburgh. We are trying to encourage a two-step approach, so that if the money doesn't materialize, they could move with us to Pittsburgh, and then continue their legal action against us. 

Meanwhile, the yelling and fear continue. Two nights ago, they woke us up to complain that we were in their room abusing them and laughing at them.  Again, it didn't matter that we were sound asleep and they needed to wake us up to level these charges. Apparently, we can be in two places at one time, according to them. We have returned to sleeping in our locked bedroom. 

And so the waiting game continues. While we have legal authority to do so, we have no ability to logistically get them into a car or into the hospital. Given previous physical altercations with them, we can't.  And given the effective standard of "imminently suicidal",  "imminently homicidal", or at "imminent risk of serious harm due to inability to care for oneself", our loved one does not meet the standard for being picked up and taken to the hospital against their will. 

As time continues to pass however, the chances increase that they will be deemed imminently homicidal or at imminent risk of serious harm to self.  Meanwhile, we will try to keep ourselves safe, our loved one safe, and our community safe. And if this is hard for us, imagine how hard it is for our loved one.  

Jul 7 2021 Day 138 Psalms 69:1–72:20

You who have made me see many troubles and calamities will revive me again

The psalmist is talking about being persecuted and having enemies, and this litany is interspersed with hope-filled praise, worship and petitions. The accompanying reflection is from Gerald May from the book, The Dark Night of the Soul. He argues that God’s role in our suffering is to stand with us. This I absolutely believe.

He goes on to provide a very interesting premise. He says that God provides guidance to us, during the good and the bad. For things of the world, it is good to have light to help us to see. But he argues that for spiritual matters, sometimes that light gives us a false sense of direction; seeing a little bit allows us to take off in precisely the wrong direction. He continues that God sometimes provides the darkness to protect us from stumbling. He says, “When we cannot chart our own course, we become vulnerable to God’s protection”. In a witty play on words, he argues that God helps us frequently by providing not a guiding light, but a guiding night. Ooh. I like that.

There is definitely something to the notion that we stick closer to secure things in the dark. I hold on tighter to my husband’s hand in a dark night walk. And I stick closer to my faith practices, when I’m feeling in the dark. That sense of not being able to see or not knowing where I’m going isn’t pleasant; it is very vulnerable, and all sorts of bad things could happen. That’s why we should move slowly, and put our trust in the truly solid things that can guide us through.

I admit to be struggling a bit at home. My loved one is increasingly anxious and as a result, angry. Two days ago, they threw beer on me out of anger. I went out to our 4th of July dinner with friends a little soggy. This morning, they awoke early (or never went to bed), and met us as we awoke to explain their anger about us stealing their money since they were 6 (I think it’s in reference to social security we received for their care), for raping them and stealing their money. They yelled, and want to talk to an attorney. I hadn’t even had my coffee!

Today, we have family coming in from out of town for two days. I’m quite certain there will be some display of symptomatic behavior; company is stressful for everyone, including our sick loved one. It’s always interesting to have outsiders observe our interactions. We become acclimated to the persistent stress and conflict, but see it through the eyes of outsiders. Hopefully, nothing will happen that is too startling, and we can have a nice visit. Fingers crossed.

I am absolutely in the dark about how to navigate with this. We’ll try to provide support and help as they desperately want to talk to professionals about their mistreatment. I don’t want my loved one to be disappointed by the reaction or help they get (or don’t), but neither do I want to be seen as a further barrier to their wishes. We’ll try to do our best to help them get to the resources they think they want, and then try again if that fails. I will continue to rely on God’s guidance to do the right thing, to forgive 7x70, to turn the other cheek, to give them your coat, to love my neighbor. I’m going to stick close for now.

Update

Our loved one is again becoming increasingly symptomatic. They have declined the offer for supportive housing, because the rules were too oppressive. In particular, the rules about living without alcohol and marijuana and them managing medicines. So instead our loved one is beginning the descent into another crisis. They vacillate between angry outbursts, and withdrawn isolation. Two nights ago, we heard them yelling down the street, apparently at a mother and her kids. We have no idea what the instigating factor was, but a colorful spray of foul language came out of our loved one’s mouth. I felt bad for the recipients. Then our loved one returned to our home to drink straight out of a bottle of wine sitting on the front porch, yelling and making noise to the point that twice we got up from bed to ask for quiet. It was one of the few instances where my husband got angry and raised his voice.


At this point in the cycle, it is unlikely to end in anything other than hospitalization, prompted by a police or crisis worker intervention. Our loved one is not taking medicine other than self-medicating with alcohol and marijuana (both legal here). Their reasoning is gone. Their ability to self-regulate is gone. Our ability to intervene is gone. Our best hope is to keep them safe, and love and support them as they cycle through this yet again.

As our loved one’s symptoms and resulting behavior gets worse, it’s both harder and easier to deal with. On one hand, the outbursts and angry comments are difficult. The slamming doors and drinking on the porch are like fingernails on a chalk board. On the other hand, our loved one is so very sick, and heading for the hospital it’s easier to have sympathy – as long as I’ve gotten a wee respite and some sleep.

I’m thinking about all of the people with schizophrenia without a home or a support system. They go through this on our streets, or in jail. We see them yelling, paranoid, drunk, delusional, and blame them. It’s hard not to, when their behavior is so anti-social. But it is the disease. These lovely children of God are someone’s mother, sister, daughter, friend. We need to see them as people, and see past this disease.

Jun 27 2021 Day 130 Psalms 37:1–41:13

And now, O Lord, what do I wait for? My hope is in you.

The psalmist is going on and on about his woes and his enemies, and praying to be saved, because then he’ll get back at his enemies. We all have woes, and while sometimes I find these sentiments unfortunately familiar and therefore comforting, today, I’m tired of them. We all have woes, big and little.

Side note, someone once expressed some distress about their kids and followed up with an apology that their trouble wasn’t anything like mine. To be clear, I do not believe there is any hierarchy in woe. To be hurt, or sad, or afraid is exactly the same, regardless of the prompt. My woes are no bigger or smaller than the next persons. Pain is pain. Fear is fear. Anxiety is anxiety. So while I have a particularly ugly woe these days, my thoughts about woe, and God, and redemption are equally valid for anyone’s woe.

Today, I’m thinking about waiting. In the midst of all of the psalmists woes, he acknowledges that his hope is in God, and questions what he’s waiting for. This struck me this morning, as I feel like I could be in a time of waiting. There’s a lot in my life that’s unsettled, and I sometimes feel like I’m waiting for the next opportunity, or the next crisis, or the next hospitalization, or the next vacation. But really, I don’t need to be waiting for anything. My today is exactly where it’s supposed to be, and I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.

To wait, or to feel like I’m waiting signals that this moment isn’t precisely perfect, that I need something else, I’m waiting for something else. But I’m not. My hope is in God, and God’s timing is perfect. This moment is perfect. Yes, there’s a lot feels unsettled in my life – job, deacon assignment, parenting a very sick loved one, inability to plan vacations, facing a day of record breaking 115 degrees. I have a lot of proverbial balls in the air. It would be easier on my organized self if some of these balls would land, and then I’d figure out how to respond. And yet none of those unsettled things are in my control. Additionally, I am precisely in this place with all of those things unsettled.

It’s a version of ‘the grass is always greener on the other side’ – this sense that I’m waiting for something – anything – and all will be well. But all is pretty dang well right now, even with these balls in the air. I have full confidence that my unsettled world will settle in God’s time. In the meantime, I need to work on addressing my unsettled mind, and stop waiting for things. My hope and trust is in God. Waiting is a low-level discontent that I don’t want or need. Today, I want to relish in my day and life, and stop waiting for something else.

Side note - Happy, happy birthday Katherine, my oldest friend! Life is sweeter because of you.