It's black and white tonight.  As I gaze out the bay window from my tub, all the world is robed in crystalline white, snow having just fallen fresh upon us.  The clouds have suddenly become reflectors, mirrors of the city lights that the snow caught and threw back up to the heavens.  Against this glowing white the gnarly, spindly black branches of my tall yard trees sway with the wind.  There are other black clumps:  bushes, snow shrouded buildings in the distance, other dark shapes.  The tree whose arms and fingers clank against my window still amazingly has leaves, though with out turning any festive fall color, they slowly morphed from green to black.  Black and white.

It is beautiful, breathtakingly so.  I cracked my window to let the cool air in.   As it entered the room, hovering over the hot bath water, steam appeared in smokey swirls rising upward.  In here, all is touched by the warm golden glow of the candles and mist.  It is a different kind of beauty, somehow more comforting against the colorless but bright landscape outside.  

I'm thankful tonight.  Grateful to be warm, snuggled in my soothing home, but able to look outside at the wonder of God's creation.  A place where contrasts and light alone can wake the soul.  I felt something in me spark, looking at the swaying black trees, against the glowing white of earth and sky.

It's been a staccato day.

I woke up less "connected" than I have usually been lately, snuggled in bed watching the sun rays filter through the clouds until the house was warm, and was aware that my favorite morning friends, the squirrels, instead of bouncing around in the trees outside my window like usual, were noticeably absent. I tried not to let it, but this unsettled me some. I love to watch their ardent play as I transition from night to morning light, like acrobats of the winter branches, leaping to and fro, chasing each other, seeming to laugh. Then there's the one who places himself in solitude, perched on a cut off stub way high up, with his tail covering him all the way up his back and over the top of his head. He does this regularly, and I consider him my soul friend. I can relate to being the one who nestles in a solitary place, looking out alone on the world, doing my best to cover up from the wind with whatever I have to warm myself. A contemplative squirrel no doubt.

My devotional time was rote -- did the stuff without much connection to the Spirit or word. It was all about God being in the darkness, for even His darkness is Light. I read some awesome verses reminding me of the strength and power of God in the heavens, and though I felt a bit of a stirring, today I think I just want light. None of this dark stuff, and the notion that God is in it. Part of my soul is sick of being sick, and tired of looking for the light side of the dark night. I say this knowing how fickle my soul is, since really, I've been in a place of stellar brilliance lately, especially in comparison to how things have been during these years of my illness with Lyme. But still, today was less brilliant, and any dullness brings panic that I will succumb again to fatigue and depression.

Then as I was listening to songs and words about the love of God, as I readied for my day, the presence of His Spirit broke through like shafts of colored light. As I prayed for love to abound in me, praying for people I love (my brother in particular), I began crying from the sheer joy of knowing that the love of God is more real than I can now see or know. He will take care of the ones I love so dearly, and I felt great comfort in this.

I rode along in this sense of the present love of God for awhile, but then my thoughts shifted back and forth between dark and light all day. I found at times I had an angry agitation, focused again on how stuck I feel in Ohio, and how I don't know what to do or where to go. Ugh. How such dark thoughts sap my strength! But I chugged on with the duties of the day.

There was another moment of wonder, later. It came unexpectedly as I walked out of Costco, into the chilled night air. It was just after dusk, in the newness of the evening when the sun and it's twilight can no longer be seen in a line on the horizon. The sky had turned one color: a deep azure blue, so bright that it was almost surreal. No star could be seen, but as I looked straight above my head, the crescent moon, softened by some unseen mist hung like a picture of gentle radiance. Darkness, breathtakingly beautiful, had enraptured me by surprise.

Ahh, I could feel my soul aware that I belong to the heavens, and that this beauty of darkness was pregnant with the love and presence of Christ. He IS in the dark, and the emanating light causes colors and shades of blue that stir my soul to silence and wonder.

The waves of death swirled about me;
the torrents of destruction overwhelmed me.
The cords of the grave coild around me;
the shares of death confronted me.

In my distress I called to the Lord;
I called out to my God.
From his temple he heard my voice;
my cry came to his ears.

The earth trembled and quaked.
the foundations shook;
they trembled because he was angry.
Smoke rose from his nostrils;
consuming fire came from his mouth,
burning coals blazed out from it.
He parted the heavens and came down'
dark clouds were under his feet.
He mounted the cherubim and flew;
he soared on the wings of the wind.

He made darkness his canopy around him---
the dark rain clouds of the sky.
Out of the brightness of his presence bolts of lightning blazed forth.
The Lord thundered from the heaven;
the voice of the Most High resounded.
He shot arrows and scattered the enemies,
bolts of lightning and routed them.

The valleys of the sea were exposed
and the foundations of the earth laid bare at the rebuke of the Lord,
at the blast of breath from his nostrils.

He reached down fro on high and took hold of me;
he drew me out of deep waters.
He resuced me from my powerful enemy,
from my fores, who were too strong for me....

...He brought me out into a spacious place;
he rescued me because he delighted in me.

A staccato day. One of ups and downs, mundane and mystical, light an dark, like the tapestry of my life.

On love:
Love is the beginning and ending of all our work and the enfolding mantle in which all the gifts of the Spirit are cherished and protected. This love is not merely a gift, it is a whole way of life. We can not receive it in full unless we give it forth to others, especially to those who have injured us. "Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us." This is the only petition (or affirmation) in the Lord's Prayer that is conditional. Why? Because of our nature, because of the way we are made. The mind and the body so interrelate that unforgiveness acts as a poison within us, and this is so no matter how worthy the cause over which we fret and fume. The bodily results of fury are quite evident: we lose our appetite, we can neither eat nor digest, the nerves tighten in spine and head, the mind is confused, the knees shake; the whole body is out of line with life, which is love because God is love. The effects of our usual feelings of a dull resentment and an old bitterness are even more devastating because they are not so obvious, but they eat upon the body like a slow poison. We express this in our common speech: "Something's eating on him"; "It gives me a pain the the neck"; "I can't stomach it"; "You make me sick," and so forth. --- Agnes Sanford, The Healing Gifts of the Spirit, p. 89-90.

I have been praying much lately about opening my heart to love, learning to give and receive love on deeper and deeper levels. I am shocked at my guardedness and resistance to the very thing I so long for! It is as though there is a private unseen gate whose opening and closing is beyond my volition, and my soul reacts in ways both curious and unwanted. Most often this sounds like a smashing slam of the gate, but sometimes it is more like a creak, a prolonged eerie prelude to the clanking of the lock. I read recently about Jesus being the gate. So I ask Him to meet me in the garden of my soul and there to stand watch at the gate, to help me to both let love in and out, as well as to discern wisely when to wait and watch with wisdom since not all loves are true and most, like roses, come with thorns.

Recently I sensed the Lord drawing me to places where I can send forgiveness and love back up through the generations of my family on both sides, then out to other family members, and back down through the years of my life to those who I have hurt or who have hurt me. I don't know how long this road will be, but I hope to stay true to it. As I walk it I sense more freedom of heart, and the truest gift of love: JOY.

I have prayed so long for healing of my body, and while that is being accomplished in measurable ways in these days, I am increasingly aware that this also means healing of my soul, since body and soul are inextricably linked. In my first treatment stint in Kansas (for Lyme disease, last August), I felt disappointed because one of the doctor's sessions was more dealing with the issues of my soul than my body. I complained to the Lord: "He didn't even treat me today!" Then the Lord said, loud and plain: "Did you come here to get treated or did you come here to be healed?" I was stunned and quieted. "I came here to be healed," I said. "Well, then, that was part of it," was the answer I heard back. "Oh."

So often when God speaks, the clear best response is "Oh." It's a bit like the selah response from the psalms; the idea of being quiet and letting the truth soak in to the recesses of your being, letting it become a part of you, rather than skipping on the next activity or idea. I've been saying "OH" a lot lately.

I went to Kansas again in December, having not felt well at all for much of November, and fighting a sticky heavy feeling that no matter what I do, I will not be well in spirit or body. After fours months in treatment in Kansas (twice) and Germany, I was beyond "thinking positive" about my health situation. As I was praying during this my third visit, I sensed the Lord continuing the above conversation. It was as though the Lord said, "Remember the last converastion about your healing? Well, I asked you to expect to be completely and miraculously healed. However, I did not bring you here to heal you, but to transform you."

"Oh." I am still thinking about that one.

Tuesday, September 23, 2008
Chiropractic with Dr. Woitzel at 11:30;
Walking around Dobel
Nap and Sauna
Dinner

I awoke fighting a slight headache, feeling quite sluggish and having some pain in my back and side (kidneys and liver?).

Today I had a chiropractic appointment with Dr. Woitzel, much shorter than the lengthy time yesterday. He went over my symptoms and did a urine test, but it looked like everything was fine. He does a swedish form of chiropractic, and it was different than anything I've ever done before, especially since I had to do it in my underwear.

Afterward, we did a bit of shopping and then had lunch at the apartment. We then walked around Dobel and found the public sauna, where I later went back to see if I could sweat some of the toxins out.

After dinner I was dead to the world, very exhausted, and slept from 9:30 until 8:30 in the morning.

Monday, September 22, 2008


My first appointment was with Dr. Woitzel at 2 p.m. today. Pforzheim is about 30 minutes from where we are staying in Dobel, and once we got into the town I could see how much nicer it is to stay in the country. The city is very hilly and congested in the part that we saw, and we were hard pressed to find a parking place. Finally, Neutina, Dr. Woitzel's assistant came, and she rode with us to show us where to park without an hourly ticket.

We sat for some time in a busy waiting room. Then Dr. Woitzel came in, gregarious and genuine, and I enjoyed both he and his staff right away. He met with me for some time going over the tests I had brought and my medical history, then took me in to his bio-resonance machine to test me for Lyme (borreliosis). When he did so he said right away, "You have it very heavy in your system." He repeated this several times during the afternoon, sometimes saying, "You have it very bad." He said he believed I had had it for 15-20 years possibly.

Dr. Woitzel filled out a prescription for me, and Ann and I went down to the corner pharmacy to have it filled. The cost was 135 euros.

Following this, I was set up with the Bionic 880 machine, and spent an hour placing the wand at different points on my body, for a designated amount of time. I was given a pitcher of water and told to drink the whole thing during the time I was using the light device. After this, I was given an infusion of magnesium and zinc, which took another 45 minutes. The Bionic made me tired and the infusion made me cold. It was almost 7:00 p.m. when we made our way in the rain up the hill to the car.

Nevertheless we stopped at the Aldi Market on the way home to gather groceries. I bathed while Ann made some dinner. Not feeling well, I went to bed soon, but got up in the middle of the night.

I am to have treatments every Monday and Thursday for 3 weeks, and on the last Thursday he will test again to see if I need more treatments.

Lyme Treatments with Dr. Woitzel

Sunday night, September 21, 2008

We had a fantastic day visiting the castle at Neuschwanstein with Ruth and Daniel Buchholz.

We did not leave until late -- but before we did, Ruth talked to Karin Klein, the owner of the apartments we will stay at in Dobel, and let her know when we would be in.

I was surprised to find that we climbed into the mountains, and though it was dark, it was easy to make out the towering forest that bordered the road on both sides. We found the apartments easily, just at the beginning of town on the main road. Karin was there to greet us warmly and walk us up to the top apartment where we will live for at least 3 weeks.

Like many German apartments, you walk into a hallway with many doors. There is a door to the toilet, the bathroom (with a great tub for my evening soaks), the bedroom, the livingroom, and the kitchen/dining room (this also has a bed for sleeping).

Tired, we took turns at the bath, and snuggled in.

I am hopeful and a bit scared about tomorrow. I hope that this will help me regain my health, I fear that I have come all this way and it will be less than I hope. I read some verses before drifting off into a deep sleep. I am in the arms of God.