Worst. Game. Ever.

When I was a young married woman, we often had Sunday lunch with Al's parents.  And often, there were many other relatives there as well, a house filled with people.  Typically after lunch, the men went to the den and the women to the living room.  I don't know what the men talked about.  I only remember being horrified that all these older-than-I women seemed to talk about was their aches and pains, and their medicines, and the scars from their surgeries.  I remember thinking, is this what I have to look forward to?

I have now entered the season of life where I suppose I would have something to contribute to those conversations.  I have my own set of surgery scars and my own assortment of prescriptions to talk about.  Yet even now I find myself wondering why that is such a fascinating topic of conversation.  As a young woman, I was a little intimidated by all those conversations about aches and pains and surgery scars, even as I was also horrified by them.  In many ways, nothing has changed.

I say nothing has changed, because now, some forty years later, I have observed that the conversations are still very much the same.  People still love to talk about their aches and pains, and their medicines, and their surgeries.  Additionally, it seems that everyone wants to be sure their particular malady is the "star of the show".  In other words, Linda Sue wants to be sure you know that her particular ailment has been written up in medical journals as the worst case of (whatever) on record, while Sally Jo is certain no one ever had such a difficult child-birth as when her babies were born, but Betty Ann can outdo everybody with how long she was in the hospital and how many infections she had and the rare diagnosis she got.  On and on it goes.  In every conversation, we're all trying to outdo each other.  My ingrown toenail was much more traumatic than your quadruple bypass.  My headaches have been written up in medical journals.  I had to travel to [insert big-name hospital] to have my bruised elbow diagnosed.  On and on and on it goes.  Names have been changed to protect the guilty!

Some things just don't change, I guess.  From one generation to the next, human nature is still the same.  It's part of our nature to want to be the center of attention.  To be the star of the show.  And so we continue to play the game.

You know the game I mean.  I'm not talking about baseball or football or hockey.  Or about Monopoly or Clue or Angry Birds.  Or about a card game or a video game.

It's the game we all play.  The one we deny playing, but we play all the same.  We're all too familiar with this game.  And it's the worst.  Worst. Game. Ever.

It's the comparison game.  The game no one can win.  The game where we take over the conversations to be sure everyone knows just how sick we really are.  Or how much we've had to suffer.  Far more than any body else.  It's the game where we try, in vain, to prove that we're just a little bit more.  More important.  More sick.  More suffering.  More pitiful.  More whatever. 

At the same time, it's the game where we never quite measure up.  Where we're always feeling less than. 

Less pretty.  Less talented.  Less intelligent.  Less useful.  Less.

It's a terrible game. It's a game we can't win.  Because no matter how much we try to prove by our boasting or our complaining or our pushing ourselves to the center of the conversation, that we are more than, better than, we still, down deep on the inside, feel less than.

The root problem, the real reason we try so hard to appear to be more than even when we are feeling so less than, is that all these comparisons we make are based on a false premise.

This comparison game we play is based on the premise that what I think someone else is thinking about me is actually what they're thinking.  And most of the time, maybe even all the time, what they are actually thinking is miles away from what I think they are thinking.

Even more important, what "they" think of me doesn't really matter so much anyway, does it?  Isn't what the Lord thinks of me what really matters?  That's what we tell ourselves we believe, and most of the time we probably do.  But then there are those times when that little voice inside our heads starts talking to us and convinces us that we are less.  And so we start playing "the game".  Worst. Game. Ever.

It's the "I'm Completely Inadequate" game.  Also known as the "I'm Not Quite Good Enough" game.  Sometimes known as the "Nobody Else Ever Has Any Problems" game.  Or the "Nobody Really Understands Just How Hard My Life Is".  Or "Nobody Really Knows What I've Been Through".

There are all sorts of variations to this game.  The game has no rules.  We all make up our own rules.  And don't pretend you've never played this game.

We play it when we are tired or when we are frustrated or when we are scared.  We play it when we are feeling intimidated.  We play it when we are trying to fit in.  Or when we are trying to make a good first impression.  It happens when we listen to our sister or our best friend or our neighbor or our church acquaintance or someone we just met.  You know her.  She bakes her own bread and grows all her own vegetables and upholsters furniture and makes drapes and has perfect children who are perfectly dressed and she has a perfect haircut and only eats organic food and goes on three cruises every year and never has any worries about money and she just finished her first novel which is now on the best-seller list.

The problem begins when we compare our worst day to her best.  Or at least what she reveals or what we perceive that to be.

But the real problem is not that we're making a comparison of worst to best.  The real problem is making a comparison at all.

How much better life would be if we would stop playing this game.  If we could teach ourselves to stop making comparisons.  If we could learn to be content.  If we could shift our focus from what someone else is or has or does, and focus on becoming all that God intends each of us individually to be.  If we could keep our eyes fixed on Jesus rather than on someone else.  If we could be encouraging others to keep their eyes fixed on Him rather than keeping their eyes fixed on us. If we could focus on running the race He has set before us, rather than focusing on the race He set before someone else, or trying to run their race, or wishing we could. 

Perhaps that's the real secret to contentment.  Eyes fixed on Jesus.  Not on our neighbor or our friend or the celebrity on TV.  Not on what someone else has or does.  Not on our circumstances.

Eyes fixed on Jesus. 

Not on playing that silly comparison game. 

Which is the Worst. Game. Ever.


"Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us also lay aside every weight, and sin which clings so closely, and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us, looking to Jesus, the founder and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy that was set before him endured the cross, despising the shame, and is seated at the right hand of the throne of God."  (Hebrews 12:1-2, ESV, emphasis mine)

Up With The Good.....Down With The Bad

For more than ten years, this has been my mantra:  up with the good, down with the bad.  It's how my physical therapist taught me to approach stairs during the rehab following my broken ankle.

For all these post-broken-and-now-fused-ankle years, this mantra has served me well.

Until now.

In these two weeks since my knee replacement surgery, this mantra has become a source of confusion.

You see, I broke my left ankle, and I just had my right knee replaced.

For these 10+ years, the left side was the bad side.  At least it was the bad side until the right knee became such a problem.  Then there really wasn't a good side.  And now, post-knee-replacement, the left side has become the good side - in theory at least - and the right side, which used to be the good side, is now the bad side. 

You see my dilemma.  It's all backwards.

Now I have to stop and think.  What had become a habit of life is no longer quite the same.  I can't function on auto-pilot anymore! 

But thinking is really a good thing.  And not just when it comes to remembering which is the good side.  When I'm going out the front door, which foot goes first?  I have to stop and think.  When I come back from my physical therapy appointment and have to go up the steps to the front door, which foot goes first?  I have to stop and think.

Up with the good, down with the bad.  Stop and think.  Which one is the good?

It's a good way to remember how to approach stairs if you have orthopedic issues.  But it's a good thing to remember for life in general.

Think about it that way for a minute.  Up with the good.  Down with the bad.

Apply that principle to the things you read.  Whether books or magazines or social media.

Apply that principle to things you watch.  Whether on television or at the movie theater or on social media.

Apply that principle to things you listen to.  Whether radio or television or social media or even conversations.

Don't go through life on auto-pilot.  Don't blindly follow the crowd.  Stop and think.

Up with the good.

Down with the bad.

"Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence, if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things."  (Philippians 4:8 ESV, emphasis mine)

Two Weeks Later. It's a Process.

Several weeks ago, as I was reading up on knee replacement surgery, trying to learn all I could and be as prepared as I could for my surgery, I read somewhere that recovering from the surgery is like a full-time job.  I don't know who said that, but I think they were right! 

This is quite a time-consuming process.  And not just in the sense that it takes weeks, perhaps months, to fully recover.  I'm talking about everything that is a part of the recovery process.  Go to physical therapy.  Do the physical therapy at home, three times a day.  Use the ice machine.  Get up and practice walking.  Remember to take your meds, not only the pain pills as necessary, but all those other things as well, like iron pills for my anemia and aspirin to keep my blood thin and stool softeners for.....well, you know what that's for!  Remember to wear your compression hose, except for that brief respite one hour a day.  There's just a lot to remember in this process.  Maybe that explains, at least in part, why I'm so tired!

Yesterday marked two weeks since my surgery.  Has it really only been two weeks?  These two weeks have been filled with highs and lows, with good days and bad.  It's all part of the process.

The process continued today as I had my first post-op appointment.  The best part of that appointment was that the staples were removed.  The doctor is pleased with my progress, and I'm to continue doing what I'm doing until I see him again in another month.  And so the process continues.

I'll continue doing therapy and applying ice and taking my meds and all the other things that are part of the process so that, before too much longer, I'll be walking normally and unassisted.  The process continues until the desired goal is achieved.

In that way, this whole knee replacement adventure is much like life in general.  It's a process.  I must be disciplined to do the things that are required of me in order to achieve the desired outcome.  The doctor has done his part, and now I must do mine.

Just like life.  God has a plan.  For me.  For you.  For all of mankind.  He has done His part.  He gave us life.  And He has provided a way for new life, by the sacrifice of His Son Jesus, to pay our sin debt, to give us access to the Father, and to give us abundant life, both here and in the life to come.

[Jesus said] "The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy; I came that they may have life and have it abundantly."  (John 10:10 NASB)

That's God's part.  Our part is committing our lives to Christ.  Accepting, by faith, the free gift of salvation that is offered to us.  And then living day by day, moment by moment, by the principles and precepts that God lays out for us in His Word.

Will we get it right all the time?  No.  Will we make mistakes?  Of course we will.  Will we have good days and bad, highs and lows?  Certainly.  It's all part of the process.  The process by which God is working all these things together for our good and His glory.  The process by which He is conforming us to the image of His Son.

It's a process.  And we continue the process until the desired goal is achieved.  Until this life is completed, and we are finally, once and for all time, in the presence of the One who gave His life for us.

Until then, the process continues.  We press on.

"I press on toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus."  (Philippians 3:14 NASB)


"And we know that God causes all things to work together for good to those who love God, to those who are called according to His purpose.  For those whom He foreknew, He also predestined to become conformed to the image of His Son."  (Romans 8:28-29a NASB)

The Power of a Handwritten Note

When was the last time you got a handwritten note in the mail? 

It's a lost art, really.  And that's sad.

We sometimes get notes via e-mail.  Or maybe we get texts.  Or tweets.  Or Facebook messages.

But what about a handwritten note.  In an envelope.  With a stamp on it.

We may get a birthday card or a Christmas card, and those occasionally come with a hastily scribbled personal message.  But not often.

I've been blessed and encouraged during this period of recovery from knee surgery by a number of messages from friends and family members.  Texts, messages, e-mails, Facebook posts.  Even a number of get-well cards that came via snail mail!  I have read each one, treasuring each message.  But the ones that have meant the most to me came in an envelope, with a stamp, and were not only signed, but contained a hand-written note.  Sometimes just a sentence.  Sometimes two. Occasionally a paragraph.  Handwritten and intended just for me. 

Handwritten notes are rare these days. The occasionally come for birthdays or Christmas or during times of sickness.  Even then, they are rare.  Even more rare are the handwritten notes that come just because.  And I think that's incredibly sad. 

Perhaps we're in too big a hurry.  Or we're too stressed.  Or perhaps it's because we have managed in our culture to condense all our communications to 140 characters, electronically transmitted.

I have a box in my closet, and a file folder in my desk drawer, of handwritten notes I've received over the years.  Some on fancy stationery.  Some on a cute card.  Some on plain, lined, notebook paper.  Some on the cover of the church bulletin.  I always save handwritten notes.  When I first began this habit, I had no idea that one day they would be nearly as extinct as the dinosaur!

Sometimes, particularly on tough days or dreary days or days when nothing seems to be going right, I reach into the folder and pull out a note.  And reading the note again encourages me.  Lifts my spirits. 

That's the power of a handwritten note.  Its effect goes far beyond its initial reading; it lasts and lasts and lasts.

Could it be time for us to revive the art of note writing?  To slow down a bit and send a word of encouragement, a word that will last. 

Yes, it will take time.  And effort.  And yes, we will have to perhaps buy some note cards and envelopes.  And yes, stamps are expensive.  But what is it worth to encourage someone today?

When was the last time you encouraged someone?  When was the last time you sat down and wrote a note?  On paper.  With a pen.

Why not do it today?  I dare you.

"....encouraging one another, and all the more as you see the Day drawing near."  (Hebrews 10:25 ESV)

The Little Paris Bookshop. A Book Review.

As I was browsing available books, looking for my next selection to read, The Little Paris Bookshop by Nina George appealed to me right away.  I love Paris.  I love bookshops.  So, a book about a bookshop in Paris grabbed my attention.  After all, what's not to love about Paris and bookshops?  Quite a lot, as it turns out.

Apparently I'm in the minority when it comes to my opinion about this book.  It spent some time on the New York Times Bestseller List, and was recommended by Oprah.com.  Even so, I was very disappointed in this book.

Some reviewers have called this book "enchanting"; others called it "engaging."  I call it boring.

The little Paris bookshop in question is a floating bookstore in a barge on the Seine.  Monsieur Perdu, shopkeeper of The Literary Apothecary, "prescribes" books for his customers, claiming that he can discern exactly what book is appropriate for each person after having only brief conversation with them. 

“There are books that are suitable for a million people, others for only a hundred. There are even remedies—I mean books—that were written for one person only…A book is both medic and medicine at once. It makes a diagnosis as well as offering therapy. Putting the right novels to the appropriate ailments: that’s how I sell books.”

Monsieur Perdu is unable, however, to discern what to do about his own broken heart, having been abandoned - or so he thinks - by the love of his life some twenty years previously.  She left him with only a letter, which has remained unopened for all these twenty years.  Once he finally reads the letter, he sets out on a journey to the south of France, hoping to find the end of the story.

I wanted to like a book about a floating bookshop in the middle of Paris.  I wanted to like a book set in Paris.  I wanted to enjoy getting to know Monsieur Perdu.  Instead, I found myself bored very quickly, to the point that I skimmed, rather than read, most of the book.  The only redeeming thing for me was the collection of Provencal recipes at the very end.

I received a copy of The Little Paris Bookshop from Blogging for Books in exchange for my honest opinion.

And the Good News Is......

I have several bits of good news to report this morning.

First, I slept better last night than I have since surgery.  I only woke up once, around 3AM, and went right back to sleep.  No extended periods of sleeplessness last night.  That's very good news!

Second, my new knee felt much less stiff when I woke up this morning.  Third, my pain level when I woke up was much lower than on previous mornings.

All that is good news indeed.

So, my husband asked what's the bad news?

My response:  This knee didn't miraculously heal itself overnight!

Of course that didn't happen!  And it won't.  Because this is a process.  A lengthy one. At times, a challenging process.  But one that will be worth it in the end.

In that respect, knee replacement surgery and recovery is much like the Christian life in general.  It's a process.  It takes time.  It doesn't happen overnight.

Consider, for example, the discipline of Bible study.  Do we commit our lives to Christ and then wake up the next morning knowing all there is to know about the Bible, as though by some process of osmosis all there is to know about the Scriptures was poured into our heads overnight?  Of course not.

Understanding the Bible is a process.  One that takes time.  And effort. On a consistent basis.

So far I have had one physical therapy appointment.  I worked hard at that appointment, and continue to work hard on the exercises I have been given.  It takes time.  I don't always feel like doing it.  But it's necessary for the desired result.

To obtain the desired result - a fully functioning knee - I must consistently apply myself to the discipline of the assigned exercises.  I must commit to the process.  Over time, I will achieve the goal.

That's true of Bible study as well.  To obtain the desired result - understanding and applying the Bible to my daily life - means I must consistently apply myself to the discipline of study.  I must commit to the process.  Consistent effort means I will achieve the goal.

That's part of the good news.  Consistent effort leads to results.  Whether talking about knee replacement or about Bible study or any of the other disciplines of the Christian life, it's a principle that holds true.

Why not give it try for yourself?  Get involved in a Bible study group.  Find a Bible study plan to work through on your own.  Be part of the process.  I can't wait to hear about your results.

There will be results.  That's good news!  Wouldn't you agree?

"Study to shew thyself approved unto God, a workman that needeth not to be ashamed."  (2 Timothy 2:15 KJV)

"Discipline yourself for the purpose of godliness."  (1 Timothy 4:7b NASB)

Diary of a Knee Replacement

I decided, on the day before my knee replacement surgery, that I would keep a diary of the experience.  I made a few entries that Sunday night, and then caught it up after I got home from the hospital.  Each morning I have been making notes on the previous day.

Today I want to share some of that with you.  Not to worry.  This is not a post listing all my aches and pains and medications.  That's of no real interest to anyone other than me.

But I do want to share with you some of what I consider to be the high points of this journey.  Those high points are the times when that still, small voice of God has spoken into my spirit exactly what I needed at exactly the time I needed it.

It began on Sunday.  Although I was actually looking forward to the surgery, or at least to the end result, there was at the same time that natural apprehension about "going under the knife."  It was during those moments that the Spirit of God whispered these words into my spirit:

"Thou wilt keep him in perfect peace, whose mind is stayed on Thee."  (Isaiah 26:3 KJV)

On the morning of surgery, our good friends Max and Becky arrived at the hospital to pray with us before surgery.  In his prayer, Max included this verse, one of my favorites:

"Let the morning bring me word of your unfailing love, for I have put my trust in you.  Show me the way I should go, for to you I entrust my life."  (Psalm 143:8 NIV)

Those verses went in to surgery with me, giving me a sense of peace and calm to replace the apprehension.

On Tuesday, I awoke feeling a little queasy and experiencing some pain, as might be expected.  Even so, the physical therapist arrived to get me up and walking, which I confess I dreaded.  I had a horror that the leg wouldn't hold me up and I would fall over in a heap, or that I would pass out, or that some other terrible thing was going to happen.  And I just knew it would really, really hurt to stand up.  (It didn't!)  In the middle of all that came these words:

"Be strong and courageous!  Do not tremble or be dismayed, for the LORD your God is with you wherever you go."  (Joshua 1:9 NASB)

And so, even though I threw up in the process, I managed to be strong and courageous, and to get out of bed, walk across the room and back to the chair.  Later that day, I was once again strong and courageous as I walked down the hall to the nurse's station and as I learned how to deal with steps.

Yesterday I had my first outpatient physical therapy appointment.  The first of many.  It was hard.  It hurt.  Again, I remembered "Be strong and courageous!"  And as I lay there on that therapy table trying my best to get this knee to bend just a little bit more, I was reminded of these words:

"I can do all things through Him who strengthens me."  (Philippians 4: 13 NASB)

The context of that verse has nothing at all to do with physical therapy!  Even so, God called it to my mind in a moment when I needed reminding that He will get me through this!

I'm doing wonderfully well in my recovery.  I know that, but even so, there are moments of frustration.  Moments when I'm aware of just how much right now I, a very independent person, have to be dependent on others.  Moments when I realize that this will take time, perhaps a long time.  Moments when it just hurts.

In those moments, this verse comes to mind:

"Be still and know that I am God."  (Psalm 46:10)

These are just a few of the entries in my Knee Replacement Diary.  I'm sure there will be many more as this process continues.  Because it is exactly that.  A process.

Through the process, God is at work in my physical body.  But also in my spirit, bringing the peace and comfort that only He can give.


"When I understand that everything happening to me is to make me more Christlike, it resolves a great deal of anxiety."  (A. W. Tozer)