I've Been Blessed Deep

I have been blessed with some amazing...AMAZING...friends, family, and friends who look like family. Steven Sauke is one of my little brothers by a different mother. He has blessed me immensely with words of encouragement, the most creative hugs I've ever seen, and his deep, faithful love. Today he blessed me with a blog. Please drop by his place to read the blog and see the blessing.

"Have You Considered my Servant Jerri?"

Smore to God Than I Imagined

I just think God is so crazy cool.

I ask Him for something like one of those goofy 25 cent toys out of the machines at the store, and He shows up with Smore makings. Not only does He always out do what I ask for, He does it with creative flair that makes my heart all warm and marshmallow-y. Never saw God as a hopeless romantic before, but now, I seem Him like that all the time.

I think it is because I'm His favorite. :-)

From My Journal--Faith, Fear, and Faithfulness

Fear is my feeling that whatever comes will disrupt my "happy spot" or comfort zone. Probably will, but faith says I'll like it on the other side.

Sometimes I will not get the resolution I want to a situation, and it doesn't matter. My job is not to fix the situation or even make it better. My job is to respond is such a way that I am at peace with myself standing before the Lord and saying, "This is what I did. It was the best I knew at that moment. Show me if I was wrong and how to fix it for next time."

Found Here

Found Here

Is it selfish to hide out here...alone...hoping You will invade my space?

Is it wisdom that drives me from the cocaphony caused by too many days with too little of You to a large green chair, open window, and closed door?

If I open the window, will You open heaven and meet me somewhere in the middle, even if "middle" is two feet from here where my knees sit on carpet and my battered heart beats arrhythmically in my chest? Will You come so far to meet me? You, the One who went to a cross, will you come here?

If You would...

Will You find me beneath the to-do list that never gets all done and the sadness of what I think I would like to do but never find time for?

Would You breathe life into a body fatigued by a long day's work and a mind heavy with wondering if what I am doing is truly accomplishing the intangibles that are the most important?

Would You care if my tears of the day...of the week...of this season...stained Your perfect robe with my imperfections? The imperfect balance of time? Imperfect priorities that swing between Spirit and flesh? Imperfect attitudes that are so easy to see spill from the hearts before me and so easy to justify in mine?

But today, I don't want to justify. I don't want to give excuse. I don't want anything this flesh can conjour up. I want freedom from the insane expectations, the insane overreactions, the insane weight of it all. My own insanity drives me to solitary places, dead places, tombs for dreams, relationships, identity. But You are not afraid of insanity, and the tomb must offer up its prize to Your hands.

Find me here...You alone are the Life I crave. You alone are the sanity of all this.

I am in desperate need...

...and You come...

Life to my weary soul.

I am not alone.

You smile, arms open to embrace me, and say, "Child, you never were."

Copyright Jerri Phillips 2009

Peace of Pizza

This morning I woke up with contentment that a vacation week brings. Vacation isn't a big chaotic event for us this year. Instead, it is an investing time, a connecting time--or in our case, a RE-connecting time. Busy bodies and chaotic minds have kept us apart, but not this week. This week we connect. We value each other. We declare, "You are important and worth the effort. Let me put everything aside but you."


My heart breaths deeply, and joy flows out as children's laughter bubbles forth, art projects look for places to show off, family is made into team to solve problems. Smiles of anticipation with the glances at the calendar's words of friends and fun.


Ah, yes, vacation...contentment...the wonder of being valued...


Then someone took an ugly marker and drowned my plans in graffitti saying, "We can't...something more important..."


More important...


But this is a week of being most important...


And now, where plans had brought joy to a child's heart, I had to give news that would break it.


This was the makeup party for his birthday that was hidden under blankets as he fought the flu. This is the person he considers "my only boy friend". Now, the celebration is heart ache as his "only friend" sits in a moving van headed away. He is brave, with only one question: "Can I still email him?" I smile. Of course. He is content.


I am not. I fight the mist that blurs this amazing boy in front of me, and my heart sobs with the unfairness...unfair to him...unfair to me... And I have a myriad of questions.


Why now? Why this boy? Why...? I stop. Do I dare ask these questions? Are they too real? Too raw? Do I have the courage? Sometimes the heart cares nothing for courage.


The questions tumble on their own.


Why have you not provided him with another friend? Why have you not answered my prayers? Why isn't this important to you? Do you not care?


Sometimes the heart cares nothing for courage. Sometimes it asks out of fear, and I am afraid this is far more important to a nine year old than an eternal God.


And my heart cries.


But I blink my misty eyes and ask if everyone is ready to go to pizza and game place we had on the calendar for today. A boisterous, "YES!" resounds through our home. And off we go.


Children with cups of tokens in hand wonder from game to game. For awhile I wander with them. Then I sit, watching the miracles entrusted to me, aching...wondering.


"Ma'am?"


My head and thoughts jerk to the man in the booth in front of me.


"Have you ordered your pizza yet?"


The tokens were a stash from last year. Pizza wasn't really in the budget, but fun is be free.


I shake my head in response.


"Uh, we aren't going to eat all of ours. Would you take what we have left?"


Suddenly, this man has my rapt attention. "I'm sorry?"


He repeats himself while holding out a pan with enough pizza on it for all of us. "We can't eat this, and there's no reason for it to go to waste. Would you take it? I know your children are going to get hungry. They can have this." I stare at the pizza. It is the exact pizza they like.


I think how very "uncouth" it is to take pizza from a stranger in a pizza play place. It is not the acceptable thing to do. People would think it odd, but then, some would think it odd that hear voices...like the one whispering, "If I care enough and have power enough to move the heart of a stranger to provide the perfect pizza for your children, don't you think I care enough and have the ability to provide the perfect friend?"

I blink back the mist and smile at the man holding the pizza. I reach for the pan of provision and promise and, "Thank you. We'd love a peace."

Copyright Jerri Phillips 2009

Rejoicing in Nothing, Everything, and the Only Thing

Last Monday I wrote a happy and content blog about the nothingness of my day. After two wild weeks of viruses with the children and myself along with the hospitalization of my stepdad and his surgery, it was nice to have nothing. The nothingness of Tuesday was nice, too. On Wednesday, though, nothing became everything.

We had received the results of my blood tests early in the week. All the panels showed normal results, so we knew my chest pains three weeks prior had not been a heart attack. Frankly, I expected my doctor to tell me I had some kind of anxiety attack and should learn to relax. That didn't happen.

On Wednesday I was dropping Anna off at play practice when my cell phone rang. Assuming it was a photography customer, I answered. It was the nurse from my doctor's office. She had tracked me down. She needed to talk to me about the results of my stress test and sonogram. Since I expected a nice letter telling me I was fine, I was shocked. From there, I went to absolutely stunned.

"The wall of your heart is significantly thicker than it should be. You need to get a blood pressure machine and check your blood pressure daily. If you have more than two readings higher than 120/80, you need to come in immediately. If you have chest pains at all, you need to go straight to the emergency room."

"But last week I was told 124/76 was good."

"That is a normal person. For you, that can be fatal. Anything over 120/80 could cause you to have a stroke or heart attack. If it is that high, we have to give you medicine to get it down, or you can die."

I have no clue what else she said.

Rob met me and picked up Robert so they could go ride bikes. I spent my drive home in conversation with God.

I had a simple question: What do we do now? I don't know anything about this. What do I do?

I thought about my friend Debra's sister who is a nurse. I needed to have Debra call her. "She'll say it isn't that big of a deal, and I'm really fine."

For reasons I can only explain as stupidity, I googled "heart wall thickening" first. The first five articles all said the same thing: "You know those athletes that fall down dead on the court/field. this is what kills them." They really didn't understand the cause, and they didn't really have a way to fix it. They had some possibilities, but ultimately, it was what it was--deadly.

Nifty. I'm a walking time bomb.

When I called Debra, she was calm. At first, she simply asked for the facts the doctor gave me. I told her what the nurse had said. Then she said, "Jerri, you know this isn't going to kill you. God has given you too many promises and prophetic words. You can't do that dead."

I was silent. Tears streamed down my face. "Jerri, I've known you two years, and you've walked through hard stuff. I've never known you to cry."

"I'm not saying Satan wins. I'm saying this is scary."

"Yes, this is a scary lie," she agreed, "but it is still a lie. God is truth, and He isn't going to let this take you out."

I asked her to call her sister. She told me she'd call me right back.

When she called back, she said, "Without seeing everything, she can't say for sure, but from what I could tell her, she thinks they see the beginning of a problem of a potential problem and they are treating it aggressively. She doesn't think you'll fall down dead right now." Exactly what had gone through my head in the car.

We talked a bit longer, and I needed to hunker down with God. I needed to hear His heart. I needed to know His Word. God's Word trumps everything, and I needed to know that I know what He had to say about this.

I had questions, and mercifully, He answered:

How do I walk through this? Keep walking.

Do I need to be prayed over? You can be prayed over as many times as you want. You won't be anymore healed than you are right now. A paper does not define you; I do.

What do we do to be in agreement with Him? I said you would take the Promised Land with joy. Rejoice.

When Rob and I were finally able to talk about the situation, he was shocked but calm. We agreed it would be best to make an appointment with the doctor and get more information. In the meantime, we decided nothing had really changed except we had been given a piece of paper with scary words. Ultimately, all of our lives are in God's hands, and we believe I will be here until God is done with me. Our hearts were settled.

That night was war.

I woke up several times during the night to the demonic whisperings, "You're going to die, leaving two small children without a mom, and all hell is going to break lose in their lives because you aren't there to protect them."

I had one response: "Shut up, you lying demon, and go to hell." Then I rolled over and went back to sleep.

Thursday morning I called the doctor's office. They could get me in Friday morning. Until then, the war continued, except by then, I was heavily armed.

Instead of simply lying down and wallowing, I went to my arsenal. I pulled out my journals and read God's promises. I went back to the word the Lord had given me for this year:
Time to take the Land.
Scripture: Joshua 1.

I read that passage over and over. The Lord said to go back to my journals, so I pulled out the journal for January and read my notes. Then something struck me. When the Lord gave me that word, He said, "You know, there has to be a Jericho." I knew that, and I prayed for the faith to stand valliantly.

Then another thing came to mind. "What do you always say about Jericho?"

I stopped, and a smirk came across my lips. "Every time I think of Jericho, I say the same thing: Jericho had thick walls." At that moment, I knew all would be fine. This was Jericho, and I would see it fall.

I shared with a few people close to me, and they prayed with and for me. My God had provided my army, friends who have warred with me before and new friends who have walked through the season of breakthrough my family is in and withstood the assaults. They believed Jericho would fall. They didn't know how or when. They didn't need the whole battle plan. They already knew the outcome, and they were already rejoicing in the victory.

On Thursday night Debra could see the difference, and she knew I was mentally and emotionally fine. She knew I was standing. Was I going to keep my appointment? Absolutely. Wisdom says to get more information and find out how to battle this on a physical front. I don't want to take God's promises for granted. Part of being in agreement is acting wisely. I needed information. Besides, as I had told Rob, I expected the doctor to say, "Oh, it isn't that bad at all. It's something we need to watch, but you're really okay." Rob expected it, and so did Debra.

When I dropped my children off at the skating rink with Debra, I was excited. I had expectation of seeing Jericho crash, and I was ready to move forward.

As the doctor and I talked, I told me the information I had been given on Wednesday. He didn't seem pleased. First of all, I was supposed to have seen him Thursday. The nurse never told me to make an appointment with him. Second, when I told him what I found on the internet, he shook his head, "Oh, no, that is a different thickening altogether."

He explained that one in contrast to mine. He summed it up this way: "If we don't deal with this, in twenty years, your quality of life will be nothing. So we are going to figure out if your blood pressure is high now or if this is past damage. If it is high now we'll figure out what triggers it. When we get it under control, your heart will go back to normal."

He then laid out our plan of action, and I left his office with the smell of dust and rubble in my nose.

Jericho was down.

I am not going to pretend that everyone's battle is so easy. I fought for my dad for 15 years, and five years ago at the young age of 62, he passed on. I stood with a friend recently as we fought for her father-in-law who battled cancer. Cancer won. I have battled for babies who were born too soon and didn't have the strength to live.

I don't know why those battles ended in what I feel was a loss. I only know what I've learned.

• I have learned to stand on God's Word no matter what a doctor's report says.

• I have learned when God speaks something forth, all of hell will fight against it, but my God is All Mighty.

• I have learned being attacked does not mean I've lost the battle. It means I'm fighting it.

• I have learned to write the promises God has given me as a record to remind myself of His Sword, and when the enemy comes at me, my Daddy's sword will take him down.

• I have learned the incomparable power of having warriors who stand with me.

• I have learned being surrounded by all the mighty warriors in the world means nothing if I won't get on my feet.

• I also learned whether I am rejoicing over nothing or in everything God's Word and His promises are the only things that matter.

Praying you can rejoice in nothing, everything, and most importantly, the Only Thing.

Copyright Jerri Phillips 2008