Open Hands

Open Hands

by

Carmela Mulroe

I hold my hands open in emptiness.

I hold my hands open in fullness.

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I hold my hands open in emptiness waiting to be filled.

I hold my hands open in fullness waiting to be relieved of the heaviness I carry.

I hold my hands open:

accepting the ebb and flow of life,

the gift and grief,

the past, present, future,

and the desire to be whole.

I open my hands in acceptance of love, loss, life and death.

I open my hands in emptiness waiting to be filled.

In the Midst of All the Chaos

Be Still (my soul) and know that you are God.

I live in chaos right now, Lord--there are bills, my husband, kids and all their energy, their needs and wants--all clamoring for attention in the midst of my job, my school and my ambitions.

Fighting for its life is my marriage which suffocates under the strain of financial stresses and responsibilities --all too numerous to mention.

You have promised ever-present help in times of trouble. So, yes...finally...after carrying the load..."Oh, no thanks. I've got it.....as one by one cartons tumble and I stoop to pick them up.

"No, don't worry." ...s t r e t c h i n g ......"I can reach it...." sigh....

As I carry load after load, sweat begins to drip from my forehead under the heat of strain, stress and stepping it up--once again!

My pulse quickens. Tempers flare and all I want to do is scream, throw myself on the floor and have an all out--KICKING--HEAD SPINNING---TANTRUM!

Finally --after I'm spent, red-eyed, and hoarse from all the commotion.....

I hear you whisper, "Hey, it's okay. I've got your back. It's all in my hands."

Always has been. Always will be. My ever present help in times of trouble.

Read Psalm 46 today.

Born This Way

Sometimes, especially in high school, I would ponder the thought…”What if I had been born ‘normal’?” Normal to me would mean--normal hearing, normal speech, and normal facial structures… You see I was born with a syndrome named Treacher Collins.
A syndrome I knew nothing about until we were expecting our first child.

I grew up knowing I was different--somewhat like my father, yet not quite the same. I had my rationalizations for why one ear was smaller--”I slept on it too much as a baby..” As for my voice--”one day I’ll have surgery and it will all be fixed.” And with child-like faith, I would go to bed at night, saying my prayer that when I woke up, I would be healed. There was no doubt in my mind that the day would come and I would be restored to my ‘rightful’ body. After all, somehow, I knew that I was beautiful. I would be a model. There was a stage with my name on it--and didn’t everyone want to hear me sing. So there it went, the voice of God whispering my name, I was loved, and was born for something. I wasn’t sure what, but I knew it was big.

Today, I have five children. Two of whom were born with an even more severe expression of treacher collins syndrome than mine. With a fair warning, that only the Holy Spirit could give, I prayed with all my might during labor with Michaela for strength in whatever lay before me. She turned purple in my arms as the nurse whisked her away to PICU for oxygen and to be monitored. She was trached only a few days later, the Friday after Thanksgiving. To say it was a trying time, would be an understatement. It was stressful, guilt ridden and full of worry. Somehow, God pulled us through, and showered us with other material possessions to make the time easier. We had been living as a family of five without a car--now six, with so many medical appointments and special equipment to cart around, the Lord saw to it, that we had proper transportation. People were placed into our lives, doctors, social workers, nurses, and therapists. Many of whom became friends. As I look back, I can see the grace of God leading us through the maze of trials, troubles and time of new challenges.

Wyatt came along 14 months later. He is the angel/light and companion to Michaela. Wyatt, though, unexpected to us, was chosen and expected by God. I still have the little red playsuit with his name on it. Wyatt was at University Hospital receiving his trach, and other procedures to make his life easier, when a nurse presented me with a playsuit that her sister just happened to have gotten at the LandsEnd outlet store as a deal. When she heard a baby boy had arrived with the name “Wyatt” she gave it to us. For me this is a sign, that, despite his troubles, Wyatt was destined and planned for his stint here on earth.


There are moments when I wish, it could all go away. Moments, when I wonder, what we would be if there were not the physical difficulties we experience. Just this morning, Wyatt asked me. “If God made me, why would he make me have problems?”
Good rationale. How could a God who is so perfect in every way, make me--not perfect?
So, I told Wyatt, that we are born into a ‘not perfect’ world, and that problems are a part of this world. I told him, that God would use his problems for His own purpose .I also told him that his gifts are special and that God had great plans for him. Most of all, I told him that someday, he would live with God and he would be perfect in every way. This excited Wyatt most of all. “You mean, I’ll have new eyeballs, and I’ll hear and not have any holes in my stomach!?” I nodded, yes, and he ran off with great excitement.

My life is far from perfect. I have troubles, but better than that, I have good times too. There are miracles which are so much more meaningful than if I looked like a movie star or had perfect hearing and speech. He gives me the opportunity to rely more closely on him. Sure, I have an ego, and get cocky about the things I can do. But these imperfections of mine, keep my life in check. When the speech I give at toastmasters moves people, when I win 1st prize in an area humorous speech contest, or am invited to tell my story, I have to chalk it up to a wonderful, awesome God who leads me on.

Would I trade it in? Oh, its tempting…, but, nope, because someday….as I told Wyatt, I will have my rightful body. For now, I am His servant. And, you know what? It is a wonderful life.

View my website: www.justcarmela.com

A Fine Line To Walk

Perusing the many news reels on Japan's Earthquake and Tsunami, this quote struck me.

"I never imagined we would be in such a situation," Watanabe said. "I had a good life before. Now we have nothing."

There is despair in these words and I cannot begin to imagine the feelings which are behind it, for I have never experienced the depth of what these individuals are going through right now. At the risk of sounding contrite, it reminds me that things of this earth are temporal. We cannot depend upon, nor put sole value in the work that brings about a good, solid life.

It strikes me because I've been striving as of late towards goals of achievement and success. These are not bad in and of themselves, but it is easy to become so focused on these that we lose sight of the One who turns the earth on its axis. As our finger finds the pulse of success, it is easy to be mislead into thinking that it is us that keeps the blood flowing into the power of that pulse. It is easy to take our eyes off of the life source and focus it on the pulsing rhythm of our daily life. We forget that we are building for a kingdom beyond these earthly shores. We forget that the jewels in the crown come from sacrifice, loving actions, and sharing the grace of God--not from surpassing the monthly quota, being published in a major magazine, or noted in a medical journal. All of these shall pass away.

Oh, what a fine line to walk: to be here on earth, enjoy it's riches and yet build for a kingdom which we have not yet seen. For at any given moment, these things of earth can be destroyed.
In what then, can we hope, if we lose all we have worked so hard for?

I pray today: O' Lord help me to shake loose of the temporal which blinds my focus. Let me not lose sight of that which is eternal.

Scripture: Matthew 7:13-14 "Enter through the narrow gate. For wide is the gate and broad is the road that leads to destruction, and many enter through it. 14 But small is the gate and narrow the road that leads to life, and only a few find it.

Standing for Our Purpose

Okay, so I admit it. I often play Bible Roulette during my devotion time.

I was at it this morning --sitting in my rocker, coffee at my side, unsure of where to start. I flipped the book open and there I read the headliner " The Crucifixion". And, yes..my heart sank -just a bit. After all, I know the crucifixion story. I know Jesus suffered and died so that I may have everlasting life. I know they beat him. I know they mocked him. I know they were merciless.

Surely this wasn't the reading for me today. Yet, something in me persisted, so I read on.

The Soldiers Mock Jesus

...gathered the whole company of soldiers around him....stripped him....twisted a crown of thorns for his head...put a staff in his hand and mocked him.....spit on him...struck him...and then led him away to be crucified.

I was moved...and in my journal these are the words which came:

Jesus has compassion for those who are mocked, taunted and bullied because they are set apart.

Today I pray for those who feel isolated,
--set apart--
--lonely for who they are--
--what they represent--
--for being different.

The truth is that each one of us is different.
We are all set apart for works that God has created us to do.

Jesus could have let it go--backtracked, acquiesced, and given into the demands of the crowd.
He could have made adjustments to fit in and be their 'immediate hero', but he held onto his principles. He did not become distracted by a need to be liked or fit in. He stuck it out and finished what he was called to do.

What about me? What about you? Are we willing to hold onto our integrity and do what we know is our purpose?--the right thing?

Can we look beyond how the world sees us and stand firm in the purpose God has for us even when it makes us uncomfortable?

Trusting...beyond the Comfort Zone

I lay awake in the dark of night. My sinuses are clogged as I readjust my pillow so that the angle of my head makes room for air to sneak through my nostrils. If that were not bad enough my mouth is as dry as the arid desert from keeping it open to breathe. I am frustrated, angry and tired.

It occurs to me that I should use the rest room. Yet outside the comfort of my warm bed is the cold wooden floor. If I get up, I can relieve myself, provide moisture to the arid dryness which permeates my mouth and perhaps allow the stuffiness to shift in my sinus cavity. The question is....will I leave my bed? If I leave my bed, will it make any difference? In this moment, I know there is relief if I get up, yet...the comfort of my husband's warm body beside me and the coziness of blankets make it hard to move beyond the physical ease to what I know I must do in order to relieve the other discomforts.

In this moment I wonder how often I become stuck because I do not want to leave the known, the status quo or the familiar. Recently while reading of women who overcame great odds, they both mention moments in which leaving comfort or not having comfort as the option is what moved them beyond their situations.

The first was Liz Murray who wrote- From Homeless to Harvard. At a certain point she ponders the thought that had she not been 'uncomfortable' in her sleeping situations would she have gotten herself to school each morning to finish up her high school education?

The second was Ingrid Betancourt of 'Even Silence Has an End'. She writes of her six years in captivity in the Columbian Jungle. During one of her attempts at escape she briefly ponders leaving the dry 'comfort' of her 'cage' in order to face the rains and cold of the jungle with no guarantee of freedom.

My musings over getting out of a warm bed to relieve my minor discomforts pale in comparison to these two women, but it drives home a point to me. At any point in our lives in order to move beyond what we know, in order to grow to the greatness God has planned for us, in order to claim the power he has for us, we must move beyond our comfort zone. There is just no way around it.

Peter made the first step out of the boat to find that with faith, he could walk on water.

The loaves and the fishes had to be brought forth to show that thousands could be fed.

Noah needed to build the ark so that God could show his power and save his people.

Abraham needed to bring forth his son Isaac so that God could provide the ram in the thicket.

In our lives.....

*A word needs to be written on a blank sheet of paper.

*A bid needs to be made on the house.

*Business card needs to be ordered and passed out.

*An invitation needs to be given.

.....so that the power of God will be manifested.

Read Matthew 14:22-23. Peter walks on water.

Broken

Sometimes I delve into the closet called guilt and rummage around.
I pull out the mistakes I've made...the slow steady choices which at times seemed the only way to go. Now I weep at the culminated guilt which seems to me to spell out --RUINS--like the leftovers of a civilization gone wrong. (As dramatic as it sounds) I turn to you Lord, and ask, "how can I reconcile it?" "How can I replace it and make it all turn out well?"

I turn on the faucet labeled 'resolve' I do this in order to 'fix', 'make up for' and 'cleanse' my sin. Yet all that chokes out are particles of rust, soot and dirt. I know, Lord, that only you can turn the main valve which will pour out the cleansing water. I sit here at the spigot and wait. I wait for your living water to show me the channel to take. I want to climb aboard your boat and have you say to the storm--"Be Still."

The one thing I know that comes from my pain is the compassion and understanding of how this world and circumstances can lead to paths one would never think to take. It helps me to realize that things aren't always as simple as they seem. There is no cut and dried. "Follow this way" and the sum of your experiences will add to this equation.

The only thing that is true is you at the center of the cross. You are the central source for all we want and need. Yet, somehow we become distracted and get off course.

But let me clarify--I do not believe that in following you there is perfection in life or that there will be the 'Midas' touch but rather in our brokenness--and we all have it in some form or another--you are the safe port in which we can rest. For it is in our pain we see our short comings. In our imperfections we need you all the more. In our sorrow we cling to the hope and eventually we learn to sight the manifestations of your grace on a daily basis.

It seems, though, that sometimes on this earth it takes the sorrow to remind us to look heavenward and have greater compassion for the brokenness not only in others but in ourselves as well .