Tag Archives: Written by Cathie M.

The Time When I Got Angry At God

Posted on by Standard 50

I’ve always been able to pinpoint exactly who I was angry at. When my parents got divorced when I was six, I was angry at my mom. When she remarried a guy totally the opposite of my dad, I was mad at her and the new guy. When the perpetrator destroyed my innocence, I was mad at him. When I kept making decisions as a young adult that I knew were really, really self-destructive, I was mad at myself.  I don’t have a problem knowing who I’m angry at. I own it.

But through all of life’s hurts, I never once got angry at God. It would be fair to say that I understood the concept of free will from a really early age, and didn’t blame God for what people did that hurt me. Until the Motorcycle Accident.

On June 11, 2005, I was involved in a really bad motorcycle accident. A group of us were travelling down one of Oklahoma’s country highways when a van turned left in front of us. I was on the first bike that hit. It was a fluke that I was on this bike, as I usually never rode with anyone but my husband. But on this day, because I wanted to get pictures of him driving his bike, I was riding in the front with a friend….Two bikes hit the van, and three bikes were “laid down”, which means they basically slid on their sides to avoid impact. My husband, who had been bringing up the rear, was the only one who didn’t crash. Instead, he had the poor misfortune of watching his wife and friends all get hurt.

When the bike I was on hit the van, it catapulted me towards the top of the van, and the frame broke all of my ribs….all of them. Some were broken in more than one place. The broken ribs, in turn, punctured both of my lungs in several places. Needless to say, I was dying, and rather quickly. But, as luck would have it, two off duty paramedics happened to be at the convenience store right there, and had seen the whole thing happen. This is in the middle of nowhere at a tiny, franchised Joe’s Convenience Store kind of gas station. Talk about God hedging my bets! (You Rule, God!) They rushed out, and kept both me and another woman hurt really badly (Rose), alive until the helicopters and ambulances arrived.

My body was really torn up. On top of the lungs and ribs, I broke my collar bone, fractured my neck, bruised my heart, lacerated my liver, and fractured my spine and pelvis. And I was in a coma….thank God! I woke up twice briefly that day just long enough to pull the ventilator that was helping me breathe out each time, thus damaging my larynx. And soon after all of this, I developed ARDS and pneumonia in both lungs. I was dying. The whole experience of being in a coma was terrifying…I wish there was a better word for it, but words can’t express the confusion and terror….

Everything I just wrote had to be told to me by other people, because what I remember is something a lot darker. I was caught in hallucinations. It has long been debated that there are several levels of consciousness between life and death, and I agree. I just want to skip all of those next time and go straight from being alive to being dead. Just saying, God…

I still don’t like to talk too much about what my brain thought was going on. I will say that for the first few weeks, it was nothing good. I was caught in rooms with no doors and no windows, with strange red-lipped women. I was going to be killed by a terrorist cell. Some nurse was trying to rape me…It goes on and on. Had it gone on much longer, I would have probably just gone on and died. It would have been preferable.

While I was caught in Dante’s head, my husband was not pleased with the doctors taking care of me. And when Don isn’t pleased, he can be a very big pain in the butt. Three times they had taken him into the family room and told him to get my affairs in order. And three times, I just kept hanging on. Don had basically parceled out our three teenagers, and all but blew off his job. Medication couldn’t keep my blood pressure from soaring to dangerous heights, but his voice could. So, he rarely left the hospital — for months.

Three weeks into this whole ordeal, Don had had enough. He and a friend went on a quest and found out that the top pulminologist in Oklahoma lived right here in Tulsa. Her name was Dr. Grace Kennedy. That is another long story, but for times’ sake, lets just say that Don sweet talked her into taking my case, bullied the hospital into giving her rights to practice there, and threatened my team of doctors if they didn’t “invite” her to lead my case.

Dr. Kennedy, after visiting me once, decided to take a risk. She told my husband that all that movement I was making might not be pain; instead, it might be a reaction to morphine. She changed up everything — my bed, my antibiotics, and THANK GOD — my pain medication. She put me on Demerol instead. Immediately, I began to heal. Turns out, I was allergic to morphine and all those horrible hallucinations were being caused by that medicine. Every time I would twitch or moan, the nurses would give me more, launching me straight back into hell.

I have a few vague memories of coming to, but it is really hard for me to separate what really happened during that hospital stay and what happened in my head. Until one morning, a really loud voice said, “CATHERINE, WAKE UP!!” And I was awake. I mean, really, really awake. One, because the voice was really loud. And two, because only my dad calls me “Catherine”. It has always only been used when I was in trouble.

I was alone in the room for a minute, and I realized I was in a hospital room. Just then, a female doctor walked in. (Another miracle. How often do you actually catch a doctor in your room??)  She seemed startled that I was awake. I motioned to her that I needed something to write on, and she handed me a pad of paper and a pen. I wrote one word, “thirsty”. She explained I couldn’t drink being on a breathing machine. I wrote a second word, “out”. This is another long story, but in the end, they took me off the breathing machine that very hour, and after several months, my numbers stayed where they were supposed to be. They didn’t drop even one point. Remind me to tell you about the moment my husband came in after that…It is just the most romantic story ever…

But I digress. One really significant thing changed about me the day I woke up. I realized I was angry. No, the word “angry” just isn’t graphic enough. I was pissed off. And I was having trouble understanding why.

The anger was just building and building. I was released from the hospital about a week later. I was supposed to stay on oxygen and cart around this tube of air…yeah, I don’t think so. I was a 37 year old woman…too young to be doing that. I tried going back to work, but lo and behold! I transverse numbers now..This is unacceptable for a bookkeeper. My life had been permanently interrupted.

I didn’t talk to God much those days. This is odd behavior for me. I chat with Him all day long. Well, I mean, He doesn’t chat back, but as you’ve probably guessed by now, I am a talker. That was my first clue back then that there was a problem.

Finally, I had to mentally set myself down and examine my feelings. You can’t begin to fix what you won’t acknowledge. And I admitted to myself that I was mad at God. Why? You aren’t going to believe this one….

It wasn’t because I was hurt so badly, or because my hallucinations scared me to death, or that my poor children had all been farmed out for months to people that were relative strangers to me. Oh no. Nothing that noble, or even understandable. I was pissed that God didn’t allow me to see Him or His angels during a near-death experience. My spirit didn’t get to hover over my body, and I felt like it was the least He could have done for me. Seriously.

Have you ever had to have a conversation with your God that you know is just about one of the stupidest conversations you will ever have??? Well, I did. I told Him I needed help getting over my anger. I thanked Him for what He had done for me and my family, and then I tried to explain to Him why I had wanted that so much, as dumb as it may sound.

You know what? He understood. He showed me that it was okay to be honest with Him and with myself. He can handle me being mad at Him. He showed me that there will be a time that I will be in His presence, but that had He given me a glimpse, I might have stopped living here on earth doing my job, and pined instead for what I had seen. He assured me that some people need the “push” that comes from seeing the other side, but for someone like me, who didn’t need that, it could have worked against His purposes for me. And lastly, He let me know that even this accident would be used to reveal His glory. I felt like He was thanking me for going through it.

It is the one time I have ever been angry at God. I doubt anything could make me angry at Him again. But should I ever feel that way again, I can take my concerns and disappointments straight to Him. He isn’t offended by my anger. He can take it!

Thank you again, Jesus!!

– Cathie

God is Too Big for Me to Understand

Posted on by Standard 8

I find it amazing with all of our scientific and technological advances just how big our God is. Awhile back, I watched this movie called Expelled: No Intelligence Allowed, Now, don’t get me wrong. I have a pretty decent IQ, but having gone to school with people who are now seriously successful doctors, musicians, linguists, etc., I tend to be overwhelmed by their intelligence. I think God blessed me with the gift of understanding the Bible, and frankly, that doesn’t translate to earthly success. (And I wouldn’t trade that gift for the world!). That being said, I tend to take more of a child-like approach to questions like Intelligent Design.

I really liked this movie for a couple of reasons. The first was that I could follow along… that isn’t always the case. The second was that I got the impression that some of these devout atheist/agnostic scientists couldn’t answer some pretty important questions. Like, what caused the big bang in the first place? Or, how did life actually begin? One guy said he thought it began on the backs of crystals. Seriously? I could have come up with a stupid answer like that all by myself.

I guess I don’t understand how a man would not see God’s hand in everything. The law of probabilities would never line up enough to give us all the wonders of life. To me, it would be like a tornado hitting a city, and leaving behind every book in the city lined up on a shelf in alphabetically order, separated by genre, with a coffee cafe, and a place to sit. How can that possibly happen?

I am amazed at how no person can ever, ever be alike. We are all complete individuals! Think about how many people have lived on the earth from the beginning of time. Because we are shaped by more than our DNA, it is not possible for two individuals to be alike. I love that DNA is still a big mystery to us even now. I like the fact that the brain is this almost unknowable computer linked to a spirit and a soul!! Wow. It is like God knew we needed to be amazed, almost continually, so no matter how much we learn about ourselves and our world, we only end up having more questions.

I like serving a God that is a mystery. Yes, we get a glimpse of Him in our Bibles, and yet some more through the world that we live in, but overall, He remains like our brains — only a small percent is even understood.

I’ll never be able to hold my own in an argument against devout atheists and agnostics. I have no point of reference to begin with. To me, I see God in everything and everyone…

 

I’ve Been on Empty Nest Syndrome Medication for a Year Now….

Posted on by Standard 4

Empty nest syndrome is a general feeling of loneliness that parents or guardians may feel when one or more of their children leave home; it is more common in women. The marriage of a child can lead to similar feelings, with the role and influence of the parents often becoming less important compared to the new spouse.A strong maternal or paternal bond between the parent and child can make the condition worse. The role of the parent while the child is still living with them is more hands-on and immediate than is possible when they have moved out, particularly if the distance means that visits are difficult.

via Empty nest syndrome – Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia.

I can’t remember how many times my husband said, “I can’t wait for these kids to grow up!!” to me over the years. I was never in much of a hurry for them to become completely independent. I really, really loved being a mother. Especially since my kids were interesting little humans. I knew that when the day came that they’d move out and plod along the path of life without my safety nets, I was going to be a mess. It is almost scary just how right I was. When my youngest daughter joined the USAF, and then got shipped to Japan, I lapsed into a depression that I thought I’d never come out of again. When the earthquakes and tsunamis hit Japan, I had several panic attacks. I want her home. Now.

But, the USAF has a contract with her, and I sometimes think, “Why didn’t I make her sign a contract with me??”. I could have withheld her birth certificate or refused to tell her what her social security number was. There had to be something I could do. But, alas, it is too late now. She’s really, really far away.

My husband, who was going through his own version of Empty Nest Syndrome, had the poor luck of having to nurse me back from my debilitating depression while grieving the last child’s leap into the real world. He actually decided to get me some babies to love…Much to his chagrin, we squeezed in two kittens last year to replace my daughters and my son. This added to my two dogs, made a very tiny two bedroom home seem even smaller.

Today, I had to laugh because they all follow me around from room to room. I spoil them terribly, and I think part of it is because I never have to teach any of these animals how to be independent. There is no salvation plan they need to understand, no jobs they are going to have to hold down, no hurt feeling that arise out of relationships. They merely exist in this house so I would have something to love and adore. Something to baby….

This was one of the last pictures I took of my babies when they all lived at home:

These kids are a hard act to follow.

And here is my Empty Nest Syndrome medication:

 

 

 

This is Milo.

 

 

 

And Sebastian:

 

Sometimes I wonder if this is why God created animals that we were able to domesticate. Because He knew that in between the lapse of time between the kids moving out and grandchildren, some of us mothers, and fathers, would need to pour out that love on something. They aren’t quite as good as having little baby humans around, but they help a lot!!

– Cathie

 

 

 

Enumerating Your Sins In Prayer

Posted on by Standard 3

Growing up, we were encouraged by our church to enumerate our sins during our daily prayer. We were told to ask God to remind us of all of our sins, and then to say each one aloud and ask for forgiveness. But, I respectfully disagree with this.

For one thing, how did Jesus teach us to pray?

“Pray, then, in this way: Our Father who is in heaven, Hallowed be Your name, Your kingdom come. Your will be done, on earth as it is in heaven. Give us this day our daily bread. And forgive us our debts, as we also have forgiven our debtors, and do not lead us into temptation, but deliver us from evil. For Yours is the kingdom and the power and the glory forever. Amen. For if you forgive others for their transgressions, your heavenly Father will also forgive you. But if you do not forgive others, then your Father will not forgive your transgressions.” Matt 6:9 – 15

I don’t see Jesus enumerating sins specifically. In fact, He seems to be more concerned with our forgiving others than specifically pointing out to Him what exactly we did wrong since the last time we prayed.

It has long been my belief that Satan‘s finest trick is to get us so focused on our sins, we have little attention left to put on our real target — Jesus Christ. Jesus is quite aware of my sins each day. If I mess up, I try to immediately ask Jesus to forgive me. I’ve been known to throw out a curse word here and there, but my conscience is quick to kick in, and I immediately repent. I try very hard these days to think about what comes out of my mouth before I speak it. I don’t get the impression that Jesus won’t forgive me if I miss a sin or two in my daily prayers with him. In fact, His grace has forgiven all my sins already — past, present, and future. By trying to enumerate each one, I become more focused on my failures as His child, and prayer just becomes more of a punishment than a visit with my God.

Jesus usually has me working on habitual sins in my life. For instance, in my early twenties, I had a whole spectrum of sins to choose from. I was an alcoholic, sexually impure, angry little human. I’d been abused, and had given myself permission to drown out the memories with whatever I could find. And I was a real Christian, so the struggle with my conscience was really stressful. If Jesus had decided to cut all those things out of my life at one time, I would have been overwhelmed with humiliation, and would probably have given up my walk with Him.

But that isn’t how He approached my problems. First, He always showed me His mercy.. He always helped me back on to my feet. Then, He began bringing to my attention the more serious sins that I needed to work on. Not because He ranks sins, but because He loved me, and He wanted to heal me of the sins that were most dire to my well-being here on earth. First, the sexual impurities were dealt with. I begged God to get rid of this garbage in me, and He did. It wasn’t overnight, but it was effective. Next, He dealt with the alcoholism. He showed me that to not forgive myself was arrogant. It assumed His blood wasn’t enough. Over time, He and I have worked on a ton of sins I’ve had. But it wasn’t because I spent hours upon hours going over each little sin I was committing. Instead, we developed a relationship first, then tackled the sins on a one by one basis.

We don’t expect our children to be perfect in every way immediately. Some behaviors they don’t have the maturity to understand yet, or they are completely unaware that there is even a problem. You don’t spank 6 month old babies — they have no idea how to process discipline. When your children are babies, it is about developing trust and communications and bonds. Discipline is not effective if the maturity and understanding are not there. Hence, it is the same with our relationship with God. First, we had to establish that I knew I was a sinner and I needed Him. Then, we developed our relationship. After that, we began the long, life-time process of  getting me on the path to making myself more like Jesus and less like the tangled mess I was.

I think as Christians, we need to be more relationship focused and less sin focused. Yes, we should always be striving to rid our lives of sin, but we should focus on the relationship with Jesus more. If you do that first, the sins will become more noticeable quicker, and it won’t be fear that makes you want them out of your life — it’ll be the love of Jesus, and the desire to not hurt Him again with our actions and words.

– Cathie

Communication and Trust

Posted on by Standard 2

If there was just one thing that a parent should try to master, I would say it would be communication. In this day and age of technological miracles, you’d think that we as a human race would actually be getting better at communicating with one another. But, in fact, the opposite is true. Typed words, whether they be on a large screen or a phone screen, are very limited in what they can convey. Eye contact, body language, inflection and tone play a part in how we communicate, probably to a higher degree than merely speaking words. Think about exactly why you experience “road rage” when driving a car. You are driving along, minding your own business, when bam! some guy cuts you off in traffic. Even the most patient, kind-hearted person is going to probably jump to a negative conclusion. We tend to assume that other people’s actions are targeted at us personally. Now, think about the last time you actually cut someone off in traffic. Not exactly the same scenario, is it? My instance involved dropping something on the floor, digging for it, while trying to maneuver. Irresponsible, but not trying to personally insult anyone. If this was happening in such a way that all factors of communication could be seen, the amount of anger would probably rarely get to the “road rage” level. My actions, and my humble spirit as I said, “Excuse me” would most likely diffuse the situation.

When my kids were babies, I explained everything to them. If a stove was hot, I’d tell them not to reach up and pull things off, because the stuff was hot and it would burn them. If I wanted them to clean their room, I’d explain why. I’ve answered a million and one “why” questions, even if my answer was simply “I don’t know”. I found that my children developed a trust in me that only true, honest communication can deliver.

I am reminded of a time when my eldest daughter Rebekkah asked me if she could go over to a friend’s house and hang out. I told her no, not because I didn’t trust her or her friend, but because I’d had a long, hard day at work, and all I wanted to do was lie around, eat junk food, and watch tv. If she was out, I’d have to stay up until she got home, and I just didn’t want to do that this particular evening. I was super surprised when she quickly acquiescent to me. Later, she told me that it wasn’t hard to obey me since I explained my decisions.

“I never wonder why you will or won’t let me do stuff…you always explain it perfectly so I understand.” I loved hearing those words.

I was raised in a culture that says that children are to obey their parents without question, but I’m not sure that you can develop real trust between any two human beings without there being a strong foundation of communication. And by the time my children got to the terrible teen years, explanations actually were less necessary. I’d already spent most of their childhood explaining every thing I did to them. The trust was already there.

My kids never yelled at me. They never told me even once they hated me, nor did they say negative things to other people about me. In fact, Dj actually beat someone up at school when he was in the 4th grade for something the kid said about Dj’s mother.

I’m not some kind of wonder parent, nor do I believe that all of my methods were successful. But I do know that in the area of communication, this family has mad skills. Treating your little baby human like a whole separate person deserving of respect, honesty, and communication tends to cut out the problems later down the road.

That is just my two cents on parenting….