Me and My Drum: Hope for the Outcasts and Misfits

 

 

I recently told a friend, as we were in the middle of the Christmas season celebrations, that there were only two Christmas songs that ever moved me to the point of tears. The songs are O Holy Night and The Little Drummer Boy. Her head tilted sideways with a questioning look, and she said, “Really?” I could see her confusion about the latter song.

 

I explained the tears of both songs to her. As a counselor, I get a front-row seat for that moment when people experience the breakthrough from their struggles and truly experience that line, “long lay the world in sin and error pining, ‘til He appeared, and the soul felt its worth…”.  Daily I get to help people, and remind myself, that our worth is not bound up in self-esteem, but rather that we are image-bearers of God, regardless of our salvation state, as we are all created in the image of God; and therein is humanity’s worth. When Jesus is invited into our messes, our desperation, our dark nights of the soul, only then can we experience the tear-evoking line of O Holy Night, “…‘til He appeared, and the soul felt its worth…”.  That explanation made sense to my friend. But the Little Drummer Boy? It’s not even biblical! Or is it?

 

Having been a ministry wife since 1992 when Brad was the youth worship leader at our church, I’ve had another front-row seat to church life: the good, the bad, and the downright ugly. On the surface of most Christian churches, it is easy to spot those who are gifted in the church ministries. There are people who can sing in the choirs or worship team, those who can play instruments, those who can teach and work with children and youth, those who have a gift for rocking babies to sleep in nurturing arms in a nursery, those who cook meals for fellowship dinners, on and on it goes. It seems there is a place for everyone, but that is not always true. Especially if your gift is as odd as the Little Drummer Boy’s gift. It is just beneath the thin veneer of the surface of things, that many Christians find their gift as unwelcome or unneeded in the local church. Their inner-critic voice, just like the Little Drummer Boy, tells them, “I have no gift to bring that’s fit to give a King.” Instead of the melodic “Pa Rum Pum Pum Pum” in the song, many others hear the dark, intense music in descending major keys of “dun, dun, dun” with a sustaining tremor in the music, as if a jump scene in a horror flick is about to happen.

 

Does anyone else know what I am talking about? Or is it just me? I have one of those odd gifts that, when evaluated by most local churches would be cast off to the Island of Misfit Toys (to stick with the
Christmas theme in this article!) Are there any other outcasts, misfits, with odd gifts?  As I explained to my friend, when I hear the Little Drummer Boy, it does bring a tear to my eye when the songs says, “Shall I play for you, pa rum pum pum pum...On my drum? …. Then He smiled at me, pa rum pum pum pum, me and my drum!” That Little Drummer Boy makes every one of us Christians with an odd gift, feel the pleasure of God in what He has given us! And not like we belong on the Island of Misfit Toys. It melts my heart a little and makes me grateful for the way that God has gifted me. So, there you have it, O Holy Night and The Little Drummer Boy are the two Christmas songs that have ever made me cry.

 

God has gifted me the ability to discern and walk with the brokenhearted to care for their souls (their mind, their will, and their emotions.) He dropped me into a profession where I get to do that on a daily basis. He strengthens me for the difficult task to mourn with those who mourn and to rejoice with those who rejoice. I have devoted my life to serving God with the gift He has given me. Recently, I received some very devastating news that threatens the gift God gave me.

 

Let me back up the story a bit and explain. Around 2007 or 2008 I was given a diagnosis of Menieres Disease, which came about due to some of the complications of Lyme Disease. I was told that I was losing my hearing at an alarming rate. The doctor said if the rate of loss continued at the current rate at that time, I would likely be deaf by 2014. I was given hearing aids in 2008. I continued with my counseling degree program because we prayed and knew that was the path God called me to, for however long my hearing remained.  I began to see a counselor at the Deaf Action Council to help me with the transition of hearing loss. I told my counselor that I listen for a living. We began looking at some assisted technologies to help with safety issues at work that I experienced due to hearing loss, such as a flashing light in my office that let me know when someone entered the building because I could not hear the door chime.

 

For years, my hearing loss maintained at an 80% loss that was managed with hearing aids and lip reading. Over the last month, I have been experiencing extreme vertigo, to the point I could not safely drive. I had difficulty walking with the dizziness and the nausea was frequent. I began having the old and familiar ringing in my ears and the pressure was building behind my good ear. I went to the doctor, and they thought it might be an ear infection and put me on antibiotics. After 4-5 days of a 10-day round, there was no improvement. I was not sure it was an ear infection at all, but I did complete the medication. I called my audiologist to see if we could get a baseline hearing screening to compare with my last test. This test confirmed what I assumed was going on—a significant hearing loss in my good ear.

 

I’ve always believed I was given the gift of extra time where my hearing was concerned. I am now 8 years past when they first believed I would be completely deaf. My audiologist told me that I had a 20-decibel loss in my good ear. She said a normal loss for Meniere's disease would be a 5-10 decibel loss; so, a 20-decibel loss was quite significant. Her testing also concluded the hearing issue was not related to allergies or drainage, but rather an organic hearing loss likely to disease progression. This is not good news. I’ve always known this day may come when the loss begins to get worse again, but I was praying it would not return at all.

 

I listen for a living. Lately, hearing has become quite complicated. I am back to using assisted technologies to help in the counseling room, and in working with students. I know, in this season of Christmas, that our Immanuel, God with us, is ever close to my trembling heart. None of this has caught Him by surprise. It is only those moments when I hear Brad singing that this new reality hits me really hard. I am married to a musician. The thought that I may never hear him sing someday, is its own kind of grief deep in my heart. To never hear him say that he loves me again, those moments bring tears to my eyes.

 

The other day at church, while the worship team was practicing, I was praying and laying my fears down before the Lord. I was sharing my anxieties about what church would be like when I can no longer hear. I already struggle with not hearing and understanding the spoken message, it sounds like Charlie Brown’s teacher (mwah, mwah, mwah, mwah, mwah.) I remember telling God, “I don’t know what to do. I listen for a living.” And I recall that deep in my heart, I felt God respond with, “Your mistake is that you think the gift I’ve given you is to listen with your ears, but Dawn, I created you to listen with your heart.” I’ve been chewing on this since Sunday and meditating on what this means in the big picture. On one level, it may mean that God has no plans to restore my natural hearing, but there is a deeper level to the gift he has given me that I have yet to discover!

 

As I ponder this odd gift God has given me, the threat of losing all my natural hearing, and exploring the mystery of listening with my heart, I simply choose to praise God for the gift He has given me. I choose to trust Him in the way He has created me. Above all, I choose to trust that His plans and purposes for my life cannot be thwarted by the enemy. I am His. So, this odd gift that I have been blessed with, which often feels like I belong on the Island of Misfit Toys, is challenging me this Christmas season, to simply love, adore, and worship Him, just me and my “drum”.

 

I am reminded of an old worship song called Listen to Our Hearts:

 

How do you explain
How do you describe
A love that goes from East to West
And runs as deep as it is wide
You know all our hopes
Lord, You know all our fears
And words cannot express the love we feel
But we long for You to hear

So listen to our hearts
Hear our spirits sing
A song of praise that flows
For those You have redeemed
And we use the words we know
To tell you what an awesome God You are
But when words are not enough
To tell You of our love
Just listen to our hearts

If words could fall like rain
From these lips of mine
And if I had a thousand years
I would still run out of time
So if You listen to my heart
Every beat will say
Thank you for the Life
Thank you for the Truth
Thank you for the Way

 

Please pray with Brad and I about this new season of life and what ministry will look like as I seek to understand what it means to listen with my heart.

Discernment or Division? Understanding the Spiritual Gift of Discernment

The final message Jesus gave His disciples was simply this: do not depart from Jerusalem but wait for the promise of my Father. “You heard from me; for John baptized them with water, but you will be baptized with the Holy Spirit not many days from now” (Acts 1:4, NIV).

 

This command was imperative that we not function without the Holy Spirit. If Jesus is the same yesterday, today, and forever (Hebrews 13:8), then the same reason He told the disciples to wait is the same reason the church today should pause to make sure we are moving in step with the Spirit.

The Holy Spirit has given spiritual gifts to believers for the edification and building up of the church. I Corinthians 12:4-11 tells us this:

There are different gifts, but the same Spirit. There are different ministries, but the same Lord. There are different ways of working, but the same God works all things in all people. Now to each one, the manifestation of the Spirit is given for the common good. To one there is given through the Spirit the message of wisdom, to another the message of knowledge by the same Spirit, to another faith by the same Spirit, to another gifts of healing by that one Spirit, to another the working of miracles, to another prophecy, to another distinguishing between spirits, to another speaking in various tongues, and to still another the interpretation of tongues. All these are the work of one and the same Spirit, who apportions them to each one as He determines.

For this article, I want to focus on the spiritual gift of discernment (or distinguishing) between spirits that the Holy Spirit sees fit to empower believers in the local churches for the health, wellness, edification, and building up of the church. This spiritual gift enables some believers to discern or distinguish spiritual matters between God, Satan, the world, and our flesh. As the passage above points out, the Holy Spirit gives these gifts to whomever He will. No believer will have all the gifts. They are provided at the discretion of the Spirit. For those who have been given the gift of discernment of spirits, it is often not understood or appreciated in the local church. And the worst-case scenario, the believers operating in this gift may be labeled as divisive for pointing out legitimate scriptural concerns. Much like the watchman on the wall sounds an alarm, the gift of discerning has been specifically given to protect and benefit the church. The gift of discerning between spirits is mentioned in 1 Corinthians 4:10. Hebrews 5:15, teaches, “But solid food is for the mature, who because of practice have their senses trained to discern good and evil.” This indicates that all believers should be able to grow in basic discernment as they mature and grow in their spiritual senses. This is not the same as the spiritual gift of discerning between spirits given by the Holy Spirit.

When I consider this passage about discerning between good and evil, I think of two stark contrasting moments in the life of Peter. In Luke 9:18-20 (NIV) Jesus asks the disciples, “who do the crowds say I am?” The answers were varied. “Some say you are Elijah, some John the Baptist, and some say the prophets of old.” But Jesus makes it personal, “Who do you say that I am?” Peter firmly states, “You are God’s Messiah.” Only the Spirit of God could have revealed this to him. However, a few moments later, Jesus says to Peter, “Get behind me, Satan! You are a stumbling block to me; you do not have in mind the concerns of God but merely human concerns” (Matthew 16:23). This rebuke is an excellent example of the discerning of spirits. Jesus was not saying that Peter was Satan—but rather, the Spirit that Peter was operating in was of demonic origins. Evil spirits can influence and manipulate believers unaware of the realities of spiritual warfare. Jesus pointed this out to Peter in no uncertain terms. What seemed harsh on the surface was merciful compassion, allowing Peter to become self-aware and to see that an evil spirit was influencing him. This story was an example of discerning spirits in action, and this was good.

 

In some churches, people operating in the gift of discerning spirits (distinguishing between God, Satan, the world, and our flesh) may be seen as divisive. The Holy Spirit gave this gift to protect the church from deceit, manipulation, false teachers, and other dangers. The believers given this gift are truly the watchmen on the walls—discerning and testing spirits against the word of God However, discerning is not judgment. Discernment is having a Berean moment empowered by the Holy Spirit for the edification of the church. Thankfully, the Holy Spirit has most likely given this gift to more than one person in a particular body of believers. This gift of the Spirit may be confirmed with other believers to see if God has raised a similar alarm among other believers with the same gift of discernment. There may be consensus of those with this gift; if not, the situation is at least on the radar of multiple congregants with the gift of discernment to intercede for further wisdom and insight on the matter.

 

 

What is One to Do when Discernment is Rejected as Divisiveness?

 

Jesus explained the importance of waiting on the empowerment of the Holy Spirit through the gifts given to the body of believers to build up the church. Scripture also tells us that Jesus gave five ministry roles to the church (Ephesians 4:11-13):

 

So Christ himself gave the apostles, the prophets, the evangelists, the pastors, and teachers, to equip his people for works of service so that the body of Christ may be built up until we all reach unity in the faith and in the knowledge of the Son of God and become mature, attaining to the whole measure of the fullness of Christ.

 

The functions of these roles in the church are vital. As consumerism continues to invade American culture, it has also crept into the church. Church has often become a pastor-led spectator sport. It has neglected the other offices that Jesus gave the church to function as God designed. Many pastors struggle under the weight of ministry due to a lack of volunteers. This can lead to severe burnout and cause many to leave the ministry altogether. Other pastors have trouble delegating and equipping others to do the work. This leaves a deficit in the function of the other essential roles of apostles, prophets, evangelists, and teachers. Together, when empowered by the gifts of the Holy Spirit, the offices of the church bring a plurality of leadership to govern the church body.

 

What should a person do when the concerns of Holy Spirit-gifted watchmen (and women) of the church fall on deaf ears or are summarily dismissed? There are scriptural instructions in Matthew 18 which walk us through how to handle disagreements or conflicts in the church. It is crucial to follow these Biblical guidelines.

 

First, go to the person directly. When discerning a problem or situation that needs to be addressed, the first line of defense would most likely be the pastor. If the pastor is unwilling to hear the concerns and dismisses the gift of the Holy Spirit given to you, then scripture advises you to bring someone else with you who can establish the facts. Other believers in the body may have discerned the same concern. This is often where accusations of causing division come into play. The Bible says that they should take it to the church if they still refuse to listen. At this point, many with the gift of discernment are accused of being gossips, causing strife, and being disloyal. However, the believer is simply heeding the conviction of the Holy Spirit and discerning a matter that needs to be addressed among the church leadership for the safety and wellbeing of the church. If it is an isolated concern and no other congregants with the gift of discernment confirm the issue, it may be an instance of someone needing to mature and grow in their gift. Still, it would be wise to pause when several church members are discerning the same danger to the church.

 

We must understand how the Holy Spirit empowers the body of believers with gifts to build up the church. It would be unwise to intentionally or unintentionally dismantle the safeguards that God himself put in place for the health and well-being of His church, especially if there are multiple church members with the gift of discernment that are sounding an alarm. The most tragic thing by far would be to miss the Spirit’s desire to protect and alert the church. Then rejecting the warning of the Holy Spirit, to attribute His work to Satan by accusing people of division and breaking the unity of the church.

 

About the Author: 

 Dawn Irons, Ph.D., LPC-S received her doctoral degree in Christian Counseling and Psychology at B. H. Carroll Theological Institute in Irving, Texas. She received a masters degree in counseling from Dallas Baptist University, and a bachelors degree in social work from the University of Mary Hardin-Baylor in Belton Texas. Dawn and her husband Brad have served as a pastoral ministry couple over the last 30 years.

For My Children: I Hope this Apology Will Help You to Heal

 

 

I heard a song by David Meece one time. It was titled Learning to Trust in You. The line that pierced me to the core was this one:

 

There’s a mother in your heart of hearts,

who always played the perfect part,

and never let you hit the ground.

Oh, these are the dreams of children!

And it hurts when they don’t come true.

So, I’m learning to trust in You in everything that I do.

I’m learning to trust in You because, in my heart, I know that You’re true.

 

I let you hit the ground. Please know that it was never intentional! But I let you hit the ground, despite every effort to keep you safe and free from harm. It sounds almost laughably cliché to say I did the best I could, but honestly, I did the best I could. Despite my best intentions, I failed you in many ways as a mother. If I could go back in time, most assuredly, I would do some things differently. If I could have known then what I know now, there is so much I would have done differently.

 

But time travel and the changing of history is not one of my spiritual gifts.

 

The one thing I would not have changed is our decision to homeschool you. What I would have done differently is put you in school three years sooner than I did when I began to get sick. I definitely homeschooled longer than was beneficial to you with my then undiagnosed illness at that time. In my deepest of hearts, I wanted to hold on to every moment I had with the three of you because I genuinely did not believe I would survive the illness.

 

As I became aware that I was growing sicker, I made extra efforts to increase your activities and even create teaching co-ops with our homeschool group. I knew I needed the assistance of other moms to come alongside me. I even called my dad when I found an amazing opportunity for kids at the local junior college that offered College for Kids classes. Laura was able to take piano classes with their music department. Chris took a Lego engineering class and built robots. Josh was too young at the time, but Grampa was also aware I was getting sick, so he paid the tuition for this additional learning opportunity.

 

Education was always my priority. I’ve heard you say you thought it was purely religious indoctrination, but it was always about education. I was even harassed by some friends that my motive was NOT religious reasons. I saw that as a perk, but it was not my motive for homeschooling. I hope that you can see that more sincerely now, as I am nearing the completion of my Ph.D. I have always valued education.

 

I hope you can remember some of the good times during those years. Do you remember the Young Authors Conference where you both earned awards for entering books you wrote when Chris was five and Laura was three years old. Laura could not yet write sentences, so she dictated her book to me, and I wrote it down for her.  I wonder if you remember the field trip to the Krispy Kreme factory where they let y’all make your own donuts. Do you remember delivering valentines each year to the local nursing homes? The residents were always so happy to see you guys each year! Do you remember the Children’s Museum in Fort Worth? We would take trips there with Leslie, Travis, and Allison about twice a month. We watched you guys make flying contraptions and learn about building tension bridges. There really were some good memories there if you can remember them.

 

As my health began to fail further, the pain was affecting me deeply. I was terrified of taking the medication the doctor gave me due to addiction issues in my family history. The decline was quick. I began to lose memory and cognitive function. I would get lost driving to once familiar places. The dizziness became a constant, and of course, with dizziness comes nausea, and with nausea comes vomiting, and that was my life right before diagnosis.

 

Earlier, before I was showing signs of illness, we desperately wanted to have more siblings for y’all. As a family, we went through the joys of learning of new pregnancies and the sorrows of losing each baby that followed. Seven heartbreaks in four years. That fundamentally changed me as a mother. It was my ob-gyn who sent me out for Lyme disease testing due to the cluster of cases in the DFW area at that time. That long medical ordeal over the next four years ultimately led to a confirmed diagnosis of Lyme disease. We never expected that I would be diagnosed with an illness that was fully enveloped in medical controversy or that we would have to travel out of state to a specialist who specialized in Lyme disease—every six weeks for the next three years.  Dad and I did everything we could to make those medical trips look like “vacations” for you three kids. We described them as camping in Louisiana in Dr. Forester’s cabins. We took long drives in the piney woods of Louisiana. I slept a lot. I began to have nerve pain that hurt so bad that when I cried, the tears running down my cheeks felt like someone had taken a razor blade to my cheeks as the tears fell. We tried to minimize the reality I was living in for you kids. 

 

One of our decisions to put you in school when we did was when I was faced with having to get a central pic line directly into my heart for long-term home IV antibiotic infusions. I declined and chose to use oral antibiotics instead because I did not want to scare my children to see me hooked up to machines in my own home. The healing took a lot longer with oral medications, but I was more concerned for you guys. I often torture myself with wondering if it would have been better to do it the quicker way and if prolonging the treatment not to scare you actually did more long-term damage to you due to the long, drawn-out healing process. Could’ve, would’ve, should’ve…. I’d have given anything to be the healthy mom you deserved. You truly deserved a better mom than you got. But I hope you know that you have always been loved more deeply than I can ever find adequate words to express. You are loved still with an everlasting, although deeply imperfect love, and I will spend the rest of days loving you until my dying breath.

 

Oh, how I wish I could change the pain of your childhood that was riddled with my battle of a debilitating illness that affected us all. I resisted Dr. Forester’s advice to have you all tested for a long time. There was no way I could wrap my mind around the concept that my kids might have to fight this illness too. I was in abject denial. It was not until you all shared what looked like the average stomach bug where Chris got it first, bounced back in two days. Then Josh got it, bounced back in two days, then Laura got it. She did not bounce back in three days. On day three, she was in a coma at Cooks Children’s Hospital. It was then that I begged them to do a Lyme test. A simple blood test that our insurance would have covered. They said, “No. We don’t have Lyme in Texas.” The doctors were concerned it may have been meningitis and sent labs to Austin and began treatment preventatively because if it was meningitis, they said Laura would be dead by the time the lab results got back to them.

 

I remember feeling like I failed once again and should have done the testing when Dr. Forester first recommended it. We called him after hours while we were at the hospital. We told him that you were being treated with IV Rocephin, and they refused even to do a Lyme test, knowing that both dad and I had been recently diagnosed with Lyme and co-infections. Dr. Forester assured us that the treatment you were receiving was precisely what he would have prescribed for Lyme treatment. You were out of the coma 12 hours after they started the treatment. Dr. Forester told us to get you to Louisiana as soon as you were discharged, and he would do the tests. Even after a week of IV antibiotic treatment, your Lyme test came back positive, and Dr. Forester began you on a treatment regimen. Then he firmly recommended we get the boys tested do. We immediately complied.  

 

I was absolutely not prepared when he called with the Lab results saying that Josh and Chris’s tests came back positive for Lyme too. Dr. Forester laid out his theory of what occurred with our family medical history. I don’t know if y’all remember the stories about how sick I was in high school that I missed 87 days of school in and out of hospitals for testing, brain scans, etc. Dr. Forester began his theory that I had Lyme back then that was undiagnosed. He showed me medical journal articles on how Lyme can be transmitted from mother to child in eutero. We went through the medical histories of how Chris was sick right after birth but rebounded. Then Laura was severely ill within 8-days of birth and landed in the NICU, where they told us to plan her funeral because she was so severely ill that they did not expect her to survive a 24- hour period. They offered us no hope. When Joshua was born, it was just 24-hours after birth that he became severely ill as well. Same story, next chapter. After doing tests, and none of the treatments responded, they told us to plan a funeral for our newborn child.

 

Dr. Forester explained that he believed I passed undiagnosed Lyme disease on to all three of you kids; it was reactive shortly after birth and went dormant. He stated that that stomach bug you all shared was just the “perfect storm” that may have activated the disease. When we finally tested his theory, all three of you tested positive for Lyme and co-infections too. He also explained he felt that was the reason for all of the pregnancy losses. He further added that were it not for the concerned Ob-Gyn who sent me out for Lyme testing; he fully believed I would have died because my bacterial load had been permeating my brain and cognitive functions. He said unequivocally that he believes that if I had not come to Louisiana for treatment, I would have died because no doctor in Texas would treat me.

 

I live with the guilt of knowing that I passed on such a debilitating disease to each of you. When I see you battle long-term health issues, I often wonder if your Lyme disease may have come out of remission as mine had on several occasions. As a mother, I live knowing that my body killed seven of your siblings. You really deserved more than you got when you got me as your mom. But I do hope you can see forward and challenge yourself not to live in the past. Yes, Lyme devastated my life, I passed it on to you, and I often pray that none of you ever experience a relapse of the illness. Lyme can cause severe mental illness types of symptoms that affect the brain. Lyme is known for causing “Lyme-rage.” I did not understand that at the time when everyone was asking me why I was so mad. I never felt mad. I felt terrified that I was dying and would not see your next birthdays.

 

I’ll never forget when Dr. Forester told me I was in remission because I had been symptom-free six months, and we stopped the medication protocol. It was then time to clean up the mess of the long-term treatment. Brain surgery was no walk in the park. Still, he assured me it would be the best long-term solution to stop vertigo, nausea, vomiting, and increased spinal fluid production caused by the three years of antibiotic therapy. This surgery allowed me to no longer need spinal taps every 6-8 weeks. They were concerned that to keep having them that frequently could cause paralysis or permanent injury. I felt like I could finally see the light at the end of the darkest season of my life.

 

When they took me back for surgery, all I wanted was to see your faces. Part of me was still afraid I would die on the table. We decided to put you in school that day. Actually, I think Laura may have come to the hospital with dad and mema; it’s all a bit fuzzy now. Waking up from surgery started the healing that came with remission. But as I healed, I began to see the damage that was done to the whole family over those years of illness. You truly deserved to have had a healthy mom. I will carry the guilt of a lifetime for the harm I have caused the three of you kids. Heck, it even impacted the health of our marriage. Our family survived a medical crisis. Or did we? Or are we still walking wounded?

 

As much as I would like to change the past and the damage I caused, all I know to do is walk forward and not live in the past. I can’t fix it. I would give anything if I could make the past better for you. I hope you can learn to see me in the light of getting well, not just in the horror of the disease that was. I am not the same mom you had then. I would love to extend to each of you an invitation to have an experience with the mom that exists now. I am a scrappy little fighter for the underdog--- because I remember what that feels like.

 

Much like the tattoo on Laura’s arm, I am living the life of that phoenix that rises from the ashes. Much like the tattoo on Chris’s spine, VERITAS—I have devoted my life to seeking and following the truth of God. I have overcome illness. I have come from severe cognitive decline. I was bedridden for almost ten years, lost memory, got lost in familiar places, went back to school after remission, received my master's degree, and am now near completing my Ph.D. program. I invite you to move forward with me.  I am no longer that mom you once knew that was peer-pressured into believing I sinned against God by pursuing my bachelor's degree rather than be a “full-time mom.” I was shamed into never displaying that degree. I actually put my diploma on my bookshelf, in a folder, between two homeschooling books by an author I now think is toxic in her advice to women! Oh, the irony!  I invite you to come to my business office, where my degrees are on display, so I can assure my clients that I am confidently trained and competent to care for their concerns in mental health. I have no shame or interest in hiding the gifts God has fashioned in me for His purposes. I can now walk confidently in the path God has chosen for me.

 

I sure wish I could change your past childhood experiences of sick and angry mom. You sincerely deserved better. We all did. But I am grateful every day that I did survive. I got to see you grow up into amazing adults. I seek to offer you a relationship with Mom version 2—the healthy years. I want to see the rest of your stories play out. I want to see you grow and have families, have family vacations together when we can, and create new holiday traditions for us all. I just want to love you for the rest of your lives and to see you thrive. I am hoping that this sincere heartfelt apology can be the start of our moving forward.

 

Please forgive me for where I have so profoundly failed and wounded you in the past. I wish I could have been the mom that played the perfect part and never let you hit the ground, but I did let you hit the ground. I hit the ground, and we all came tumbling down. But we are IRONS-STRONG. We will rise. I hope you will forgive me where I failed you. I wish I could say I will never let you down again. My humanity is clearly flawed and established. So, I hope you will be willing to walk forward with mom version 2, and let’s see what joys lay ahead of us, even if we forever walk with a limp because of what was left behind us. I love you…I will forever love you with every fiber of my being. Please forgive me.

Love, Mom

 

 

 

Taking My Life Back: Gains & Losses

I recently shared a post on Facebook about getting serious about my health journey again after experiencing extreme burnout, gaining weight during Covid-19, and beginning medications for diabetes and cholesterol, which are entirely preventable diseases. I shared that I had lost 20 pounds since January 1, 2021, and now just three weeks after working with a Health Coach, I am down 29 pounds.

 

As I spoke with my coach today, Donna asked me to tell her about my wins this week. To be honest, the weight loss was the last on the list! I came to the conclusion that I have gained so much more than I have lost, and none of it had to do with weight! You see, when I decided I wanted my life back, THAT was the goal, not the weight.  The weight loss is just the icing on the cake… I know, terrible analogy! But you get the point…

 

I was at such a place of burnout when I started working with Donna. My work/life balance was non-existent. I was burning that proverbial candle at both ends! Brad and I are like ships passing in the night with our work and school schedules. We make a point to stop several times a day for a hug break, and just to cheer each other on and let each other know we have each other’s backs, and then back to the grindstone! I was at a place where I saw no light at the end of the tunnel. I simply felt terrible body, soul, and spirit.

 

When I saw my friend Crystal taking charge of her health and making herself a priority, I watched from a distance for months. I always looked forward to her posts about her progress. I yearned for the kind of courage she openly shared on Facebook about her health journey. This kind of journey is so intensely personal! I, for one, am so grateful that she shared her journey publicly! I reached out in desperation and told her I wanted my life back too. She introduced me to Donna. That was a day that changed my life.

 

I remember telling Donna all the reasons why this was a terrible time for me to be adding ANYTHING to my hopelessly full plate. I was past hopeless and needed a lifeline. There were so many changes in our life recently, with Jesse moving back with his parents, the rigorous demands of a doctoral dissertation, and working with high-risk situations at the counseling center that are often life and death situations. I was spent. I was burned out. I was DONE. I told her that life was so out of control, with so many spinning plates in the balance, that if just ONE grain of salt were to fall on a plate that the whole thing would collapse on me. And yet, I felt compelled to do what seemed so illogical, considering all the spinning plates.

 

Have you ever seen the Disney movie SOUL? I highly recommend it! Watching that movie was quite a revelation and likely the reason I ever reached out to Crystal to begin with for help.  The movie's main theme is that it is possible to be so caught up in your passion that you forget to LIVE. That had my name all over it! Brad asked me to watch it with him. He had already seen it, and he recognized I was on a collision course that I was unaware of. He was right.

 

So back to Donna, when she asked me about my wins this week, I had to tell her that I was amazed at all the things I have discovered and regained in my life. I have always loved cooking, but there just hasn’t been a lot of time or energy to indulge in that hobby over the last several years. We have existed on quick foods like soups and sandwiches, and things that could be thrown in an instapot. 

 

In just three weeks of working with Donna, I am enjoying cooking again! In making my own health a priority, I have chosen to slow down and enjoy life. I have found amazing recipes that she has shared with me, and I am overjoyed to be cooking in my kitchen again! Even better, Brad and I are actually having dinner together several times a week, which was not happening before due to our schedules.  Now that I am cooking and preparing healthy meals, we both stop what we are doing and make time to eat together. Come to find out, Brad has been on his own health journey, and both of us choosing health has brought us together at the dinner table! That is a HUGE win!

 

So, to wrap it up, wins for this week, just three weeks into working with my coach:

Rediscovered cooking and tried out several new recipes, including:
Chipotle Chicken and Cauliflower Rice Bowls
Mini Bell Pepper Nachos
Curried Chicken Salad Wraps
Loaded Cauliflower Soup

Brad and I are also having dinner together again at the table and stopping what we are doing to meet over healthy meals! SCORE!!!!

I went from a size 2X to a 1X in just three weeks, and I love wearing clothes I haven’t been able to wear in years.

 

… and last but not least, I have lost 15 pounds in three weeks! I am well on my way to getting my life back! I have more energy than I have had in years, and all those spinning plates don’t seem so wildly out of control anymore! Once I made my health a priority, it seems everything else just fell into place!

Sacrificing Systemic Change to Let the Buildings Burn

by Dawn Irons, M.A., LPC-S

I have found myself getting lost inside my head these past few days since the horrific murder of George Floyd. I have thoughts, feelings, and anger that burns deep, right along many in our country, about the unjust actions of a few corrupt cops. My perspective comes from being in an interracial relationship with my husband for 30 years. I have raised three African American children, who always remind me that I am the “white and nerdy” member of our family. I’m not going to lie, that wasn’t as funny to me as it was to them. It still stings a little.

As the riots began to take place, and I voiced my frustration that this will solve absolutely nothing. I had several friends (of all colors of the rainbow), and even extended family tell me that I needed to stay quiet because “no one needs to hear your thoughts on oppression when you are sitting in a place of privilege.” They said I am not “woke.” So, I pondered on these thoughts a bit more. I shared with my black husband my frustration with these riots. I have spent the last ten years of my life as a mental health advocate and working with people from all walks of life. I have worked with all kinds of races, religions, the LGBT community, and people with gender confusion. So, I know a thing or two about oppression. They tell me I should have no voice in this because I sit in a place of privilege. I say that because I have the privilege of my education and training in mental health issues, working with the oppressed, and 30-years’ experience of being integrated into a black family that I feel compelled to speak. So, excuse me as I step right up to the microphone. I have something to say.

I find the riots appalling. Want to know why? No one is talking about police brutality. They are talking about riots and looting, and without even realizing it, George Floyd is not even the issue anymore. Therefore, once again, the oppressed have been silenced, and their righteous anger has been hijacked by the fodder of the media’s unrighteous cause.  And yet again, nothing will change. Nothing. Will you remember the slaughtered man’s name tomorrow? It’s George Floyd, and his life and death matter.

It is true. I don’t know what it is like to be black. I do know what it is like to be a part of a black family for 30 years and counting. Just like many black mothers and wives in this country, I share the same fear when my husband and children engage in American culture. I have the same concerns, and I wonder if they will come home safe due to the simple fact they are black in America.

As an interracially married white woman, I have shared experiences with my husband that most white women will never experience. Among these experiences include:

·      Having a drunk student from college harass and follow us on campus singing Ebony and Ivory at the top of their lungs

·      Having the black campus officer approach us and let my then-boyfriend know he had “outgrown his color” because we were both very visible in campus leadership. He thought he was helpful. It was not helpful.

·      We received a campus citation for “public display of affection” when Brad hugged me during homecoming weekend, and one of the alumni was offended. I still have that citation.

·      After we had children, we visited a church. We filled out the visitor’s card, and when they passed the plate, they skipped our row altogether. Naively, I thought it had to have been a mistake, so I hand delivered our visitor information to a deacon. We never did receive a letter or acknowledgment of our visit there. We never returned.

·      Another church was considering hiring Brad as their worship leader. They were excited to add diversity to their staff. After the second interview, he was invited to bring the family to the church, lead a worship service, and then we would meet with the deacon board for lunch and a third interview.  It became very icy when Brad arrived with a white wife and three biracial children. It never occurred to us to mention the fact we were interracially married. We sat in silence during the luncheon prepared for us, and no one would speak to us, much less ask any questions. One sole deacon approached us to apologize for how we were being treated.

There is a multitude of stories I could continue to share, but I think you see the point. I may not be black, but I have experienced up close, and personal the deep oppression my husband has endured. These experiences happened to us both, and I was not unaffected by the experiences of my family.

For my young millennial friends and family members who accused me of not being “woke,” I can only say I’ve been woke far longer than you have been alive. Excuse me as I use my privilege to take this issue to a level that will accomplish far more than riots in the streets. I have the privilege of education. I am near completion of my doctoral program that has social change woven through the curriculum. I can research and problem-solve at the academic level. I have the unique position to be able to educate the next generation of social advocates in the social science arenas. I am both a social worker and a professional counselor. I am ready to do something of substance.

If we are truly going to address the issue of police brutality and the disproportionate arrests of people of color, which end in longer prison terms, we will first have to address these issues from a socio-ecological perspective. We need to engage this problem at the personal level, the peer level, the family level, the school level, and the societal/cultural level. Once we analyze the issues through this lens, we have to explore further how to implement an advocacy effort at the individual level, the institutional level, and, ultimately, the policy level. This will require time, energy, and effort. We will multiply this model in a variety of communities because what works in rural west Texas will be different than what will work in New York City.  We will need people to be committed to the role of an advocate. There is a vast difference in being an advocate, and in being an activist.  For a real systemic change, we need advocates, not activists. Please don’t get discouraged in the hard work this will require of you. It will take time, patience, and persistence. It will require you to engage the legislative system.  It will require more of you than you think you can give.

It is for these reasons that I think people don’t become advocates and choose the much easier path of being an activist. Burning a building is so much easier than getting your hands dirty and relentlessly doing the hard work to effect social change at a systemic level.  So, what is it going to be? Riots or systemic change? You can only pick one. You can’t have both because one negates the other. But hey, what do I know? I’m just a white woman who has integrated into a black family for 30 years. I know a thing or two about oppression.

The Winds of War Within

It's been several years since my last blog post.  That tells me two things: 1) Life has been insanely busy and 2) I've not been processing the deeper issues and concerns of my life.  By profession I am a mental health therapist, and writing is my own personal therapy. So to see a two year gap from the last post to now is revealing.

So prepare for the deluge of recent thoughts and concerns that have led me here to this keyboard tonight....looking for some way to just process through my own thoughts and feelings.

From the time I was saved at 18 years old, the Church has been as integral a part of my life as my blood relatives. I went through several growth spurts of understanding of what it meant to be a part of a body of believers.  I also wrestled and struggled through misconceptions about the church as well.  Some I still wrestle with to this day, but through it all-- abandoning the church was -- and never will be-- an option.

Through the years, my understanding of the what the church is (and its mission) has evolved to different levels of understanding. Some are far away from my early understandings of church and yet others are still strangely familiar and comforting.  The most revolutionary conclusion I came to as I matured in the faith is that church has nothing to do with a brick and mortar building where people congregate for corporate worship!  Church is a lifestyle you live in community with other believers-- not a place you go.  It is accountability, it is being willing to be teachable as well as to be corrected.  Church can often be experienced from house to house and in fellowship. It can be experienced inside the counseling office when a client asks you to pray for them in their area of struggle. It can be experienced when God calls you to stand in the gap in an area of injustice and you have to be willing to take a few hits so that a situation truly gets the attention that it needs.  There are times that walking with Jesus can be warm and fuzzy.  There are other times where He asks you to flip a few tables with Him. There are times to teach and time to rebuke...but at all times it must be done in love.  Some days we win. Some days we lose. But as long as we remain teachable, consistently seeking the empowering of the Holy Spirit, and willingness to walk in faith-- God will consistently move us out of our comfort zones.

I have been dealing with some issues over the last several months that have significantly alerted me to the fact there has been a shift-- a shift I cannot quite put a finger on yet. But something in my spirit has definitely been called to attention. I pray for wisdom and discernment. I am constantly reminded that we battle not with flesh and blood but with principalities and evil rulers and authorities of a demonic nature-- spiritual warfare.

I was recently listening to an audio book titled Breakout Churches. The Baptist General Convention spends great time and resources studying trends and patterns in local churches and then begins to draw conclusions from the data. This book was a result of one of those studies.  It focused on the decline of the American church and how more and more millennials are finding the church irrelevant-- even among believers.  Millennial believers are 100% relationship focused. They desperately want to serve a good cause-- but they don't necessarily see the current way church is done as the best ways of accomplishing their ministry goals and callings-- so they just don't go to the local church.  The research is showing that when churches take on some drastic paradigm shifts in how they communicate and carry out the mission of the church-- that millennials are ready to show up! They just want to be part of something significant that will ultimately change their communities and the world.  Strangely enough-- the very mission of the Gospel message! These breakout churches that were once declining are now growing and thriving and making disciples and changing their communities.

An interesting thing I have noticed over my years as a counselor is how absolutely comfortable I have become around the broken and bruised soldiers in the body of Christ.  It is not that I am content to leave them there-- but I am very comfortable meeting them where they are, no strings attached, no agendas. I hear heart wrenching stories on a daily basis. I have learned how to professionally keep an emotional distance so I am not consumed in the other person's pain and still maintain objectivity to be able to help them navigate their circumstances. But I would not be human if I were completely unmoved by the pain and heartache I see on a consistent basis.  I think God has gifted most counselors with an abundance of compassion, tempered with the ability to tell the truth in love-- which often brings a sting of pain.

One of the issues that I have been dealing with at the counseling center in our small rural community in west Texas is that many of my adolescent clients are dealing with extreme levels of bullying at school that are leaving them feeling that suicide is a good option.  The number of clients kept growing with this same problem.  Then I began to get random calls from people in the community facing this with their own children. I had another mental health facility in town tell me they were experiencing the same thing at their center as well. I began doing some research, talking to parents, talking to school administrators, even held a town hall meeting on the issue with tremendous results. The bottom line is that we have a pretty severe problem in our small west Texas town with bullying.

As the momentum was building and I began to hold support groups for parents and students, I was met with great opposition from school administrators who preferred to cling to the story of "we don't have a problem with bullying in our school" even as I worked with several students each week who teetered on the edge of suicide due to the bullying they were experiencing.  I even encountered resistance from some local church leaders.  I was becoming more and more baffled at the dissonance surrounding this issue.  The missionary in side me just wanted to shout at the top of my lungs, "Look at the fields right here in our back yard-- they are ready for the harvest!!" But alas-- I was told we needed to be about the mission of the church.

Our community had a few mission trips where they sent missions teams to a town just an hour a way to minister to the needs of the people there. We sent missions teams to another country to minister and help build a church there if a foreign land.  And all the while some local churches here in our small town did not see the relevance or need to help what is right here before our very eyes.  I am still haunted by the student who said to me, "Dawn, if it takes a suicide to make them pay attention to the problem -- I'll take one for the team."

I am struggling here, friends.  In the core of my being.... I cannot wrap my mind around how helping repair a church BUILDING in a town over fits in with the mission of the church, but helping suicidal students in our own town is not a mission of the church.  The sanctity of life should always be a mission of the church.

I don't know what the answer is. I wholeheartedly believe in regional and world missions--- but I just wonder if it doesn't break the heart of God for us to go overseas but yet refuse to cross the street in our town. People can claim that we don't have a problem --and it will never be resolved.  If we want to see divine intervention in our community, we need to quit claiming how well we are and admit we are sick and in need of a savior!  Jesus said, "I did not come for the well. I came for the sick!"

Maybe that is why I struggle so... over the years of working with broken and hurting people I have become comfortable with sorrow and grief to the point I can enter into it with people and help navigate them out to freedom.  But recently the refusal to acknowledge the problem means the students are almost condemned to be trapped in their current condition with no hope of intervention. That disturbs me in ways I cannot put words to.

I am disturbed. I am grieved. I feel the winds of war stir within me.  I daily remind myself that we battle not with with flesh and blood-- and that this is a spiritual battle over our community for the souls of these kids and families. The enemy is eager to offer suicide as a solution and the temptation is great for several of these kids. I have often been told I have a very passionate spirit about me.  Passion can often be misinterpreted as anger. And maybe sometimes anger is appropriate.... when I see the indifference, or refusal to see what is clearly before us-- and with 58 people at a town hall meeting on the issue-- no one left there with any illusions that we did not have a problem here because student after student told story after story and there were tears across the audience.

What is our mission church? If you simply state to teach the gospel-- you are sunk already.  You cannot preach the gospel to a hungry man.  You cannot preach the gospel to an abused student... you have to feed the hungry and bind up the wounds of the broken hearted before they can ever HEAR the gospel message. That requires relationship. That requires getting our hands dirty. It requires meeting people at the point of their need. It requires us to be "Jesus with skin on" for them so that they might truly see the gospel message in us --- and learn to trust us.  When trust is earned then hearing the gospel message is natural.

As I think back on that audio book Breakout Churches-- it was basically a very detailed research report that warned of the dangers of INSANITY--- you know...if you keep doing what you've always done, you're always going to get what you always got! Or Some people define insanity as doing the same things over and over again expecting different results.  This book showed examples of Break Out Churches that refused to continue in failed methods.  Research shows that only 4% of the millennial generation consider themselves to be Bible-believing born-again Christians.  Four Percent. Let that sink in for a minute.  So what does that say for the next generation coming up? My grandson is 5 years old.  It is highly probable that with only 4% of believing parents raising the next generation that we could see a 1% or even less salvation rate among my grandson's generation.

I am not ok with that! I mourn for the condition of the American church.  Just this week I read 2 different articles where a Baptist church hired a same-sex married couple as co-pastors of the church and also a methodist church that ordained a transgendered deacon. Apostasy is a real thing. Very real.
I want desperately to participate in my local church. I love corporate worship! But I have been so deeply grieved at the problems in our community that are going unnoticed-- even though it was brought to the attention of every church in town.  A few churches are interested in being a part of the solution and doing anything they can to help address bullying and teen depression and suicide, but I have been stunned at the silence of some of the other churches.

I remember once attending a church where we were trying to get a Celebrate Recovery program up and running. There was grumbling among some of the members that "we don't want those people in our church"...eventually the ministry dwindled down with lack of support from the people and we ultimately stopped doing the program all together. The people who had been attending often mentioned to us leaders how unwelcome they felt by other members of the church. It was heart breaking.  The people who needed a church to embrace them the most felt very unwelcome.  During that time I was offered a job at a drug treatment center as a therapist for the chemical dependency program.  I struggled at first because if I accepted the job I could no longer attend church on Wednesday nights. But I decided to accept the job.  I was never more surprised at how leading  the groups with those struggling with addiction felt more like church than actually attending church. As we worked through the 12 steps many people shared their personal faith that Jesus was their higher power and how they struggled to stay sober. I felt more at home, at church with those actively fighting addiction-- who were well aware of their fallen state and their need for a savior-- than I had been with my fellow church members who did not want "those kinds of people" in their church. They had no idea that THEY were "those kinds of people" just in a different sin.  I realized again that God had given me the gift of being comfortable entering into people's most painful life experiences with them and helping them walk out.  But once again, I was so heartbroken over the state of the church.

As I read through the new testament--- I long and wonder how that first century church must have functioned.  I read how they met house to house. They fellowshipped and broke bread together. They prayed and sang songs together-- it was intimate. They shared communion together. Relationships were built because church was living life together in community.  I sometimes wonder what we have lost by moving church to a central location and building. It seems rare to meet at anyone's house anymore.  We've been in Denver City almost two years.  Just last month we had our second invite to someone's home for dinner.  We had our fist invite for lunch at someone's home shortly after we moved here.  Last year I started inviting people over for a coffee/brunch once a week and I had 2 regular attenders until one became very ill.  I have great sadness as I realize how much is lost when we only see each other at a building once a week.

Well... I'm starting to ramble.  I'll have to keep tossing this idea around my mind until it finds a place to land.  I don't have any answers at this point. I just know that something is wrong and my spirit is disturbed. I can't bear the thought of things not changing in the way we do church in America.  Unfortunately-- as history has proven-- the church has grown best when it was faced with persecution and driven underground. When I look at how society and many apostate churches are conforming to the world-- that may very well be on the horizon for genuine bible believing churches.  If that is what it takes to bring revival to America--- then I fear it is not far off.  Just watch the evening news and cross reference it with Revelation. :-)

Until next time....
Dawn

WAR ROOM: My Real Life Story

I waited with great anticipation to see this movie! I have seen all my friends sharing how great it was and how it opened their spiritual eyes in ways they had not seen before.  So I was chomping at the bits to get the opportunity for Brad and I to go see this movie together!!

What I am about to say may sound so cliche, but with all sincerity, this is no exaggeration!  I was completely unprepared for what I saw.  You've heard people say things like, "Man, it's like those screen writers read my mail!"

But what I saw was my real-life story unfold on the big screen in front of me! And yet, I know in the heart of Christendom, this kind of story is often an unspoken miracle that many people are afraid to talk about due to the shame they feel about troubled marriages.  But this story was genuinely MY story....and I am sure if we would be honest, it is many of your stories as well.

Every human being on earth should have the honor of having a prayer warrior like Clara come into their life!  My real-life prayer warrior and mentor's name is Jody Van Riper.  I've not seen or spoken to Jody in years since we moved to a different town and began attending a different church. But today as I walked out of the theater, still wiping away tears, all I wanted to do was talk to Jody and tell her "Hey they made a movie about us!"  So I shot her a text message to see if the number I had in my phone was still her number.

So the back story....

Brad and I had several years of truly difficult life circumstances that began to take it's toll on our marriage.  We had lost 7 babies in the first trimester of my pregnancies.  After the losses, I was diagnosed as having Lyme disease that the doctor suspectedthat I had been UNdiagnosed for about 18 years before we determined what was wrong with me. I began a very aggressive treatment protocol that lasted 3 years. There were two occasions that left me unable to walk. I was bedridden for many years and unable to do basic life skills that most people take for granted. Near the end of my treatment, as I was getting closer to being medically declared "in remission", I had to have one last surgery to ensure my life of remission could be enjoyed to its fullest--- brain surgery.

Yes-- life, death, and health issues had battered our marriage unmercifully.  We had even agreed that maybe marriage counseling would be helpful so we dove right into the healing process determined to save our marriage and better our family.  Remission granted me a new lease on life!  The kids were in school so I decided to go back and get my masters degree to become a counselor. At that time we had been married for 18 years-- some of those were brutally rocky years-- but the anniversary in October of 2009 was a milestone that I thought should be celebrated BIG because we had over come so much!

We had an amazing weekend at a Bed and Breakfast.  It was a time of relaxation and time well-spent together. Yes, we were still working through things in counseling, but for the fist time in a long time things seemed to be looking up!

Nothing could have prepared for October 20, 2009.  Brad and I were going to my favorite restaurant before I was to head off to my counseling appointment. As we pulled into the parking lot he didn't turn off the car. He sat quietly for a minute looking like he was struggling to say something important.  A few seconds of awkward silence and the words came to him, "I want a divorce".

I felt like I had been side-swiped by a Mac truck. I felt like the air was sucked out of my lungs and suddenly overwhelming nausea hit me.  My mind raced to make sense of his statement. Just 6 days earlier we were having a romantic get away for our anniversary.  This was just 6 weeks after my brain surgery.  Every fear known to man flooded my heart and mind and paralyzed me to the core. I could not make sense of any of this. Many tears were shed from both of us. He told me he had no desire for reconciliation. I kept looking for context to make this make sense-- but there was none.

The next 3 days were like an emotional war zone where I was trying to comprehend everything that was going on, watching my husband sleep pn the couch and telling me we needed to plan a time to tell the kids we were calling it quits.  Every fiber of my being RAGED-- I had anger I had never felt before...."WE were not calling this quits, YOU are!" When it came to the point I felt I had no more tears left to cry, and that my insisting we could work things out seemed to fall on deaf ears, I felt the nudge of the Holy Spirit to call my praying friend Jody and beg her to pray for me and Brad.

Jody asked to meet with me over coffee and she let me ramble on for a while about all my mixed emotions ranging from shock, horror, rage and absolute despair.  After some time she stopped me and asked me if I was ready to do something that could make a difference.  I had brought a notebook and pen so I took it out when she told me to "write this down".  She told me to read the 23rd Psalm and focus in on praying that God would "restore my soul."  She told me to pray that over myself and Brad and then we set another coffee date for the following week.

I went home to my bedroom, and with courage I have never known before, I created my very own WAR ROOM.  I took some index cards and started posting some very strategic scriptures that I would pray over my marriage and family-- and specifically praying that God would restore our souls.  RESTORATION was what we needed more than the next breath we breathed.  I felt a spirit of peace just wash over me as I spent the first of many hours in prayers in my former bedroom turned War Room.  Daily God would begin to give me new passages of scripture to pray over Brad and our marriage. When I strayed from those specific promptings and began to pray in my flesh--- you know those prayers--- "God please change Brad!" --- God was more than faithful to turn the spot light off Brad and begin to speak to my own heart about ME! That was one of the greatest lessons learned in my War Room. When you focus on the faults of others in prayer God will lovingly highlight your own faults with  unrelenting conviction.  The more I asked God to change Brad the more God told me what He desired to change in me.  OUCH!  I felt the loving sting of conviction and so I made my way to a local Celebrate Recovery program and made the first admission that I had my own issues I needed to deal with. -- fear had slowly turned me into a control freak over the many years of battling a chronic illness, and then there was also that problem of projecting the issues of a previous abusive relationship onto my husband-- who paid dearly for almost 18 years at that point for the way the other boy had abused me in high school.  The revelations and self-awareness of how I had been hurting my husband over the years was having its full effect in my heart that I began to seek out his forgiveness.  And I often wondered it was too little too late. 

My War Room became my daily ritual! The first hour and a half after waking up I spent praying in my prayer journal, reading the scripture and focusing in on the specific battle-prayers my friend Jody had given me that lined my wall-- a managerie of index cards with strategic prayer!  I felt strangely aware of God's presence in my War Room.  By the evening time, I returned to my War Room and I spent the last hour and a half before I went to bed back in prayer, seeking God, and doing my Celebrate Recovery homework. 

I met with Jody again and this time she brought me a book called The Power of Prayer to Change

Your Marriage by Stormie Omartian. She simply asked me to read a chapter each day and include the topic daily in my prayers.  So I began learning to pray in ways that I never had before. I would read the book as almost a devotional that would launch my warfare-prayers for the day.  The book was only a guide and brough to light topics I might otherwise have never considered to pray for my husband and marriage!  The thing I value most about Jody was that she never really had an opinion that she shared with me. She only had the word of God and clear directives to pray and fight for my marriage on a spiritual level. She coached me, mentored me, and trained me for the fiercest spiritual battle of my life. She equipped me and strengthened me. I was encouraged knowing that she too was on her knees for Brad and I.

During this time another friend recommended a book that she said changed her life in regards to how

to deal with a marriage that looked like it was on its last leg.  I suddenly realized so many people had walked tthrough similar life-struggles and had an amazing arsonal of tools that had sharpened and strengthened them for the spiritual battle they faced.  I knew I was not playing games with my marriage and if there was one more avenue of insight into prayer about my marriage I was IN! So I went to the book store to purchase Dr. James Dobson's Love Must Be Tough (never to be confused with "tough love").  This book led me to a place of understanding and brought me to my knees when I realized some very hard things about my self and how I interacted with Brad. This book made what I was facing a reality--- and even dealt with the issue of only one spouse wanting the marriage to survive and being willing to work on the marriage.  This took my prayers to a whole different level.

I was spending on the average of 3 hours a day in fervant prayer for my marriage.  Prayer became the oxygen I breathed. There was nothing happening in my day that could move to the top of the priority list. Before I even got dressed or brushed my teeth I was spending time in prayer.  By night fall there was no TV show, game or facebook that could hold my attention. I had a War Room waiting for me with the God of the universe giving me detailed instructions and strategy to win this war in prayer.

Keep in mind, I have NO idea what is going on with Brad.  He is not speaking to me on any deep level by this time. (Maybe someday he will share his perspective of what was going on inside him that caused him to havea a change of heart and work to save the marriage.)We were both still seeing our counselor-- just individually, not as a couple. I think the thing that really cemented the intensity of spiritual warfare we were engaged in was when Brad told me he felt that God told him he should divorce me.  That rattled me. No matter how hurt or angry I may have been at Brad, I never doubted his ability to hear from God. And when I heard him say that, the battle alarm was sounded! I mean this in no way to be disrespectful, but I knew at that moment in time my husband was being deceived. That was the first clue to me that what was happening between us went far beyond wounds of the past, or medical issues or financial struggles-- that was deception because my husband knows the word of God deeply!  Something or someone had sown a seed of deception.  The intensity of the spiritual battle just hit new heights.

October 2009 had been a heart wrenching month. As fall was rolling in, we were all living under the same roof but very separate lives. We still had evening meals together and started having conversations that were very reminiscent of our early friendship. I craved this attention from him. To me this was a sign of hope! If only he could remember the good times, the simple times... I thought I would step out on a limb and ask him if we could go to the pumpkin patch and pick out a pumpkin. I remember him saying that he had never carved a pumpkin.  I was desperately wanting to connect with him and create a memory-- something, anything that we could do together. I was suprised when he agreed to go.  November rolled in with no changes. He was still not sleeping in our room and we were almost "playing house". Thanksgiving came and we had our normal Thanksgiving with family and guests as if nothing was wrong at all.  We watched football together and had an amazing time.  But as everyone went to bed, he went to his own area of the house to sleep.  I went to my War Room.  Everything in my spirit was screaming that this marriage was far from over-- but I had absolutely no visible sign of any level of hope coming from Brad to indicate anything had changed for him. I knew something had changed-- even if it was only me.  Prayer has an ironic ability to change the person who prays -- sometimes more than the situations they are praying about.

December caught us all by suprise. Brad had been feeling bad and had gone to the doctor. They sent him off for a needle biopsy.  He came home one evening and told me he had been diagnosed with  Lymphoma and they were scheduling surgery for the next week.  It's true what they say-- that you can see your life flash before your eyes. I had racing thoughts circling my brain: the day we met, our first kiss, our crazy adventures in college, our kids being born, happier days in our marriage, then battling chronic illness, my brain surgery, his talk of divorce and now CANCER?  Are you kidding me??!!??

I felt my War Room calling me to some deeper intercession. This is NOT how our story could end! Fasting and prayer would become a lifestyle.  I found an urgency in prayer. The anger that had once been turned at Brad was now squarely on the enemy: the father of lies, the great deceiver, the defeated and fallen foe. Though the reality we faced did not feel like the enemy was defeated at all, I prayed with every fiber of my being.  The morning they were getting ready to wheel him into surgery I leaned over and asked if I could kiss him. He said no. My mind filled with fear to the point of paralysis.  My thoughts were tormenting me. What if I would never kiss him again? What if he died in this surgery? The pain in my heart was more than I could bear. I closed my eyes and prayed all the more.

He made it through the surgery fine and the doctor felt they had gotten all the cancerous lymph nodes. When he was discharged I took him home. Hisdoctor ordered bedrest.  When we arrived home Brad started to head for the couch in the living room to lay down.  I knew this was a touchy topic but I carefully confronted him on the fact that he could not sleep on the couch after surgery! I told him he would sleep in the bedroom and I would sleep on the couch. He refused to let me sleep on the couch. I refused to let him sleep on the couch-- so we were at an impasse.  I walked him to the bedroom and laid him in the bed, gave him meds and just sat on my side of the bed and watched him sleep. I watched and prayed for hours.  After all-- he was now in my War Room! I told him I would be happy to look after him and take care of him. I told him, "you may not like me, but right now you need me."  He was not really in a position to argue with that.  He conceded.  So he agreed to have me sleep on my side of the bed, be available to help him to the bathroom, give him his meds and bring him food to eat.

As crazy as it sounds, I felt honored that he was willing to have me sleep next to him. In Brad's words..."Well, I do need some help."  That may be offensive to some-- but to me, that was music to my ears! So I laid next to my husband of 18 years who wanted a divorce, did not really even like me and would not even let me kiss him before being taken into a surgery for newly diagnosed cancer.

I recalled many times in my War Room where I read of the miracles of God-- the parting of the Red Sea, Daniel and his friends thrown into the furnace and once the door was closed another was seen in the fire who appeared to be the Son of God...over and over my spirit just criend out like Daniel and his friends, "My God is ABLE!!"  I looked over to my wall full of scripture on index cards: What does the Lord require of you? To seek  justice, love mercy and walk humbly with your God.

God spoke to my heart, "You have been walking humbly with me for a few months now. But do you love mercy? If you truly love mercy then you will serve your husband with your whole heart as if he has never hurt you."  And from the bottom of my heart, I could honestly say it was a JOY to serve him-- even with no promise of reconciliation or even friendship.  For several days I watched him sleep as I prayed for him. I would sleep by his side waiting for him in case he needed my help.  One day I fell asleep and was awakened when I felt his arm draped over waist and his head rested on my shoulder. I was afraid I had take up too much space and needed to get up before he would think I was attempting to cuddle up with him. I started to slide out from under his arm when he asked me where I was going.  I apologised for taking up too much space and he just drew me closer and hugged me.

The next morning he got up and and kissed me. He really didn't say or explain anything. And I was not about to complain! We went to the follow-up visit at the oncologists office where we got the official word that Brad was Cancer free!  We had our Christmas miracle!  Cancer free AND it looked like our marriage was on the mend.  I sometimes joke and say that cancer cured our marriage-- but I know beyond all knowing that it was the hours I spent in that War Room communing with the maker of the universe and the lover of my soul-- THAT is without a doubt what saved our marriage!  God was intimately involved in saving our marriage! I know that whatever God was doing with Brad-- and the things I may never know about-- had an impact on Brad's decision to stay in the marriage as well.

I will be forever grateful for Jody having the loving discipline to tell me that we could spend our time letting me complain about Brad or we could move on to something that could really help.  She loved me enough to tell the truth. She took of her personal time to train and mentor me-- and even equip me when I did not have the tools I needed. She walked me through developing an intentional prayer life that led to my discovery of a War Room-- long before the movie was ever made.  I just never had a name for that place of prayer until I saw this movie!  My life was forever changed in that War Room. And with our marriage being rescued from destruction, generations of the Irons family have been changed as well.

When I came home from the movie today I made a bee line for my book shelf.  There is was.... the 1-inch thick prayer journal from Oct 2009 to Jan 2010. All but 5 pages were filled with hand written prayers for my husband and my marriage that were birthed out of my War Room.  All in all it was the best time I ever spent that made eternal difference!

This is a picture of the journal and small video clip that shows the volume of pages that were prayed in that War Room!

Next month on October 12 Brad and I will celebrate 24 years of marriage! I have my best friend back and we are living life like we dreamed it could be.