And so I wait, with eager longing

A friend asked me just today what God has been teaching me through the past two weeks. I wasn't sure how to answer -- and then I remembered.

In the midst of hurt and frustration, Jesus met me one day.

It was in choir. It was the end of the day. I was sick of being sick. Tuesday, I was barely making it through the day, and sat throughout choir rehearsal without singing a single note. I was frustrated, I was pushing my way through the day, and I had my mind on what the doctor was going to tell me that Thursday.

And then we had our choir devotions. As one of the student leaders shared about the life of singer Rich Mullins, she played a song that left me in tears.

Jesus met me through this song. As it played, I stopped to let the words of the chorus wash over me. "And if I can't, let me fall on the grace.... And if I weep, let me weep as a man who is longing for his home."

Longing for home. All of a sudden, the earthly hopes and dreams I so easily cling to seemed to pale in comparison with the heavenly reality. My heart felt reminded that this world is just a passing moment, that it is not my home.

Romans 8:18-21 reads, "For I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory that is to be revealed to us. For the creation waits with eager longing for the revealing of the sons of God.... in hope that the creation itself will be set free from its bondage to decay." (ESV, emphasis mine)

Friends, if the creation waits with eager longing for that glory, for that restoration, why does it take sickness for me to long for it? I, who feel the effects of the physical curse, but also the sin nature?

Why does my heart have a list of things I want to accomplish before my Savior comes for me? Why don't I wish that He would come and redeem this world so that I can glorify Him more perfectly?

And there, sitting in a choir chair surrounded by forty women, my heart was longing. As I wiped away the tears and left the room, I praised God for breaking my heart of its earthly focus.

So now, I wait, with eager longing, because one day my body will be set free from its bondage to decay.

With love from an absolute doll,

Erin Joy

P.S. -- For those wanting an update on my health, the basic gist is that the specialist thinks I have more going on than just asthma and that it's very treatable with therapy. I still have more tests, and would appreciate your prayers. Things are looking up!

P.P.S. -- The song shared in choir was "If I Stand" by Rich Mullins. Look soon for a post on the list of songs God has used to encourage me over the past few weeks.

I didn't plan on this

When I laid out the plan for my life five years ago, it looked a little different than it does today.

I planned to major in piano, go on for at least a master's degree and maybe a doctorate. I planned to perform, to teach, to travel. I wanted to live in a city, to enjoy having easy access to concerts and coffee. I planned to practice for hours on end, to be able to easily play whatever pieces I wanted to play, and to do everything my heart desired.

Chronic asthma wasn't in the plan.

This week, I experienced another setback as my lungs tried to adjust to the city, and ended up in a doctor's office getting another round of intensive medication.

Caring friends have asked questions as I've opened the year with another episode of sickness, and this year, I have to explain that this is normal now.

Normal. When I planned out "normal" five years ago, it didn't mean cutting pieces out of my senior recital program so I could physically handle it. It didn't mean traveling with a nebulizer machine, face masks, licorice tea, and a daily pile of prescription medications. It didn't mean rationing my energy and dropping everything for a doctor's appointment. It didn't mean learning to say, "I can't."

Normal was supposed to be different. This wasn't my plan.

And as I grope with the new definition of "normal," I ask why. I wrestle with God. I beg for an explanation. In my heart, I scream, "This isn't fair!"

Then, I'm reminded of a simple truth.

Life isn't fair.

Life isn't about my plans, it isn't about my dreams, it isn't about my desire for normal -- whatever "normal" is. It's about glorifying God and enjoying Him forever. I was created to serve Him, and He rejoices over me with singing. (Zeph. 3:17)

And as unfair as it seems to go through this for some purpose that I can't even see, I'm reminded of the greatest example of all...

It doesn't fit my definition of "fair" that Christ took the punishment for my sin. My Savior didn't lead a "normal" life, where He got to fulfill every dream and ambition without obstruction. The Creator of the universe dealt with pain and suffering as He lived and died on this earth, glorifying the Father and serving me.

And incredibly enough, we read in Scripture that this was all part of the plan.

With love from an absolute doll,

Erin Joy

The list gets shorter... ISRAEL EDITION

Since the incredible popularity (or lack thereof) of my August 2010 post entitled, "The list gets shorter...", I've decided to do what everyone does:

To increase blog hits, we're now introducing.... The list gets shorter... ISRAEL EDITION. (Hey -- it works for Monopoly. If they can sell the same annoying game multiple times to the same person by changing the name on two of the squares and giving you differently-shaped pieces to move around the board and charging you more money, why can't I get the same people to read my blog post by giving it a new theme? Don't answer that.)


Ahem. Without further ado: The list gets shorter... ISRAEL EDITION. (Hey!! I like the sound of that!)

I went to the Holy Land armed with medication and a doctor's note to get it all through security. While the doctor's note was unnecessary, it turned out that the medication wasn't. Now, I'm looking at a whole new set of things I can never do as I adjust to being asthmatic...

I can never work at an incense shop. (Just five minutes in the Church of the Holy Nativity was enough to bring out the inhaler.)

I can never lead tours through Hezekiah's water tunnel. (I had to take the dry Canaanite tunnel to avoid mold.)

I can never run a "Kirsten's Kamels for Kids" camel-riding service. (I had the polo shirts ordered and everything... but then I realized that camels -- even kamels -- shed.)

I can never be an archeologist. (Just because all the people that lived in that tel died doesn't mean all the dust mites did.)

I can never join the Israeli army. (Besides the fact that I'm not Israeli, they require their soldiers to run up Masada. Dust, heat, more dust, exercise, and more heat... not a good combination.)

I can never be part of a Bedouin sheik's harem. (I have allergic reactions to their tents, although I'm sure they'd love a doll like me.)

With love from an absolute doll,

Erin Joy

P.S. -- While I hope you enjoyed this tongue-in-cheek post, I'd appreciate your prayers as I do try to get my asthma stabilized, if not even improved. I'm sure I'm on this journey for a reason, but that hasn't made it any easier. Love, EJ

P.P.S. -- I'll tell you why Monopoly is so annoying in a later post. -- EJ

So, I can't sleep...

I'm waiting for the cough syrup with codeine to actually make me drowsy, and hoping that before too long, I'll be in bed, sound asleep... So, a disclaimer: This is not an organized post. It is a rambling. Take it for what it's worth.

Yup. I'm sick again. After just getting over the hump in January, I've been on albuterol this week for the first time in a month. Feeling sick again has put some things in perspective -- you know, those overwhelming projects and hectic class schedules? Life gets put on hold for a few days while I concentrate on feeling better, and that's okay.

To be honest, I've had a hard time keeping perspective recently. It's surprising how quickly I've gotten used to being able to do it all. I put in lots of practice over the past few weeks (which is one reason why you haven't seen me on the blogosphere), I did my homework, I worked hard, and I was doing this thing!! I had the energy to do it all once again.

But, as I sit here with a headache, sore throat, and tired body, I have been reminded once again of my frailty, of the truth that I simply cannot do it all. (See the previous post entitled "Super Doll" for more details...)

But isn't that what grace is about? I think sometimes I have this picture that I have to earn God's grace. Remember elementary school, when you studied for that math test super hard, and then you prayed, and you got an A? Remember how you were convinced it was God, and then you remembered you studied? Boom!! All the credit goes right back to me.

But in reality, it's only His grace. Perhaps it was what theologians like to call "common grace" (grace given to all mankind, saved or not) that let you study and recall and pass the test, but it was still grace nonetheless.

I've received pictures of grace lately. Not being able to pay my school bill, and watching God provide -- that's grace. A friend offering to e-mail me notes for a class I missed because I was sick -- that's grace. My roommate giving me her ramen noodle soup because I was sick and couldn't walk to Walgreens to buy any -- that's grace.

I think I've heard grace defined before as "giving you what you don't deserve."

I think being alive and starting to get sleepy qualifies, too. :)

So, with that -- good night!!

With love from an absolute doll,

Erin Joy

a lack of blogging, but a lot of growing

Well, my friends, it's been a while. My apologies for the lack of blogging -- Christmas break was pretty packed. I ended up working about 30 hours a week while I was home, getting ready for my brother's wedding, and going to doctor's appointments. Then it was back on campus, a week of classes, and tour... and now it's finally time to blog again.

A simple one paragraph summary of the past few weeks doesn't quite seem to do it justice. To be honest, God has done a lot in my heart and life in such a short time, but I'm hard put to figure out how to express it. Whether it be graciously providing a solution to my ongoing health problems (I'm taking the stairs again!), or reminding me of the power of prayer, I'm grateful.

I'm looking forward to the upcoming semester. I've got some great classes -- Systematic Theology I, Church Music Ministries, Hermeneutics, and Piano Pedagogy. Much like last semester, I'm excited about all of them. A lot of the semester will also be spent preparing for my choir's tour to Israel in May.

I will do my best to keep blogging regularly. If you have any suggestions or comments, please let me know! :) And... in the meantime, I'd appreciate your prayers -- for class, health, practice, and most importantly, a continued focus on Him.

With love from an absolute doll,

Erin Joy

SuperDoll!

I ended up with whatever "gunk" has been going around campus this week. Normally, I'd push through, maybe take a nap or two, and be fine. This time around, pushing ahead wasn't an option. Frankly, a bad cold, left alone, could give me a relapse. So I've taken care of it... and fought it within an inch of my life.

You see, I want to be better. And I was getting better!! I was right on my way back to "SuperDoll" mode -- I could stay up late, I could do my homework, I could practice my full amount, I could do it all... and I didn't want to admit that having a cold could take me down.

My roommate had to tell me that I should skip church to sleep. My piano teacher had to tell me that I should skip class to sleep. My mother had to tell me that I should miss my volunteer tutoring in the projects to go to bed early. And when I wasn't being told by people who care about me that I should take care of myself, everyone I saw was asking me if I felt okay. "You look white," a friend observed just today.

I hate this... SuperDoll is an undefeated power, with lungs of steel.

But in the midst of hating this, God communicated a beautiful truth to me.

I will do anything I can to get better. I willingly schedule time for my breathing treatments, getting up early, sneaking out a few minutes in the middle of my day, and leaving time before I go to bed. I know that if I don't, I'll pay for it. I won't be SuperDoll without my treatments.

But at the same time, I make excuses about not finding time for God's Word. You know that superhuman strength I need to live each moment in the Spirit? I can't get that on my own... but I've observed that I more willingly carve out time to be a physical SuperDoll than to be a spiritual one. That is a huge disconnect.

So, to give this dense, cotton-filled head a bit of a connector, I have decided to spend time in the Word while I do my treatments. It may be a small start, but I'll be associating the spiritual sustenance with the physical. When I'm fully recovered physically, I'm hoping the lesson will stick...

I'm also hoping I'll remember that my lungs are made of cotton, not steel. :)

With love from an absolute (but not so super) doll,

Erin Joy

the list gets shorter...

I now have bronchitis. :( After having more complications with my asthma over the weekend, we went to the doctor this morning, and I got put on prescription drug number four. I'm starting to feel the Prednisone kicking in at long last, and hopefully I should be myself in a few days. I'm drinking lots of water, and I had chicken and rice soup for lunch.

Still, I can't shake a comment a doctor made during my first visit ten days ago. "Stick with music... I wouldn't go out for sports."

You see, dear readers, I have realized that the options for my hobbies and careers are narrowing. As young Anne Shirley once put it, "My life is a perfect graveyard of buried hopes."

I can never go out for sports. (Exercise is an asthma trigger.)

I will never be a professional house painter. (Paint fumes caused problems Wednesday morning.)

I will never be able to climb Mount Everest. (While my Prednisone has me wired enough that I want to, I have to realize that the altitude might not be beneficial for my breathing.)

I will never be the jazz pianist in the cocktail bar. (Too much smoke...)

I can never be the manager of a grain co-op. (Burnt, moldy corn from a grain fire at the elevator in my hometown was probably what sent me over the edge.)

I can never pursue a career in veterinary medicine. (I can handle animals in limited quantity for a short period of time... but maybe I spent too much time at the county fair?)

I can never be a firefighter. (This one doesn't quite need any explanation...)


Well... as sad as the narrowing career options are, I have to admit, I'm glad to be on the road to recovery. I'm also glad to know what my triggers are... now I can behave myself and avoid them.

Even if it means I'll never be able to be a professional carpet cleaner. :)

With love from an absolute doll,

Erin Joy

"the breath of all mankind"

My asthma is back in full force, and as I've sat at home doped up on Benedryl, and hyped up by albuterol and steroids, I've been thinking.

Job 12:10 says, "In His hand is the life of every living thing, and the breath of all mankind."

God is in control. Every breath I take is enabled by Him... whether my lungs are swollen or not. You see, it's easy to remember that God is the one enabling my breath when I'm coughing and wheezing. When every breath feels like a victory, I know God is in control.

But what about when the asthma's over? In a few weeks, when my lungs are back to normal and I'm only puffing occasionally, what then? Is God still enabling each breath? Or is it just going on as normal, under His control only when there's a problem?

If I ever allow myself to forget that my life is in God's hands, shame on me. Asthmatic or not, breathing is a gift from God. He can give it, and He can take it away... and blessed be His name regardless.

With love from an absolute doll,

Erin Joy