How can I keep from singing?

At our church last Sunday, an intern pastor preached a message that was just for me. Have you ever had that experience? It’s humbling. Early on in this post-stroke journey, I was introduced to this song, How Can I Keep From Singing? While I loved the music, the soloist (Audrey Assad), and especially the words, I could not honestly make them my own. My version went more like How can I keep on singing? Truth be told, while I have greatly enjoyed and benefited from uplifting worship music during these two years of recovery, I have not once felt like bursting into song. In fact, even when I was encouraged to sing as part of therapy to strengthen my throat muscles, I just couldn’t sing, and had no desire to. In my defense, my voice changed post-stroke and is now an octave lower than it used to be, so it sounds off key when I do sing. That has been one of the losses for me in this experience; I don’t really sing anymore. I don’t really want to. When joy is thought of as an emotion it is hard to hold on to in the storms of life. However, when joy is thought of as a state of being, it’s a refuge for the bruised and battered soul. This song speaks to that reality.

My husband tells a story from Max Lucado about Chippie, the parakeet, who one day was sucked up in the vacuum when his owner decided to clean the cage with one. If that wasn’t bad enough, Chippie’s owner then proceeded to rinse him off under the faucet and then blow him dry with the hair dryer. Though Chippie did survive the ordeal, it is said that Chippie didn’t sing anymore. I have thought of this image many times in my own recovery.

However, on Sunday the pastor reminded us that it is not about singing in hard circumstances so much as it is about testifying that His Word, promises and His character remain true, even if I don’t feel it sometimes. Some days, all I’ve been able to testify to is “His Word is Truth and therefore I can rest in the fact that His love and compassion’ never fails, His promises are always true, His mercies never end.” When I don’t feel His presence or see His healing hand at work or His power displayed in answered prayer, I can still testify to the faithfulness of The One who never changes. He is still my Rock and Refuge in the storms of life.

There is a quote from the Holy Week devotional “Your Sorrow Will Turn To Joy” that has been meaningful to us this Easter. It has reminded us that joy and pain are not mutually exclusive but can exist together in the human heart, as they do in the heart of God. Joy is not the exclusion of pain but seeing pain as redemptive because of the Cross.

“Indeed, even agony will turn to glory, but Easter doesn’t suppress our pain. It doesn’t minimize our loss. It bids our burdens stand as they are, in all their weight, with all their threats. And this risen Christ, with the brilliance of indestructible life in his eyes, says, “These too I will claim in the victory. These too will serve your joy. These too, even these, I can make an occasion for rejoicing. I have overcome, and you will more than conquer. Easter is not an occasion to repress whatever ails you and put on a happy face. Rather, the joy of Easter speaks tenderly to the pains that plague you. Whatever loss you lament, whatever burden weighs you down, Easter says, “It will not always be this way for you. The new age has begun. Jesus has risen, and the kingdom of the Messiah is here. He has conquered death and sin and hell. He is alive and on his throne. And he is putting your enemies, all your enemies, under his feet.” Not only will he remedy what’s wrong in your life and bring glorious order to the mess and vanquish your foe, but he will make your pain, your grief, your loss, your burden, through the deep magic of resurrection, to be a real ingredient in your everlasting joy. You will not only conquer this one day soon, but you will be more than a conqueror (Rom. 8:37). When he wipes away every tear, our faces glisten more brilliantly than if we never would have cried. Such power is too great to simply return us to the Garden. He ushers us into a garden-city, the New Jerusalem. Easter announces, in the voice of the risen Christ, “Your sorrow will turn into joy” (John 16:20), and “no one will take your joy from you” (John 16:22).”

Even though my circumstances have changed minimally since my stroke over two years ago, I can honestly say the words to this song are my true testimony now. So I share them with you as my witness today of His enduring and faithful love.



~Written by Anna~

What images come to your mind when you hear the word ‘victory’?

Maybe it is images of people celebrating in the streets on VE Day in 1945.

Maybe it is images of the US hockey team winning against all odds in the1980 Olympics.
Miracle On Ice - 1980 Winter Olympics Quite possibly one of the greatest moments I wish I was Alive for...

Maybe you think of Michael Phelps breaking all records and winning his 23rd gold medal last summer at the Olympics.
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The list could go on. Victory evokes powerful feelings of joy and celebration. We celebrate because a seemingly unattainable goal has been realized.

As believers we can rejoice over the ultimate victory symbolized in a cross and an empty tomb. Jesus defeated sin, death and the grave, doing what only the incarnate Son of God could do – reconciling us to God. His victory made the unattainable possible! Victory is never reached though without a cost. And Jesus was willing to pay that ultimate cost! Praise Him!

This summer I rediscovered an old hymn that I have sung hundreds of times. Victory in Jesus. This victorious song sweeps you up in the beat and the celebratory feel.  I mindlessly began singing a hymn I knew by heart. However, when I got to the second verse the words reached out and grabbed my attention like never before! It was as if I was hearing it for the first time!

 “I heard about his healing, of his cleansing pow’r revealing.
How he made the lame to walk again, and caused the blind to see.
And then I cried ‘Dear Jesus, come and heal my broken spirit.’
And somehow Jesus came and brought to me the victory.”

I felt the tears coming as those familiar words now carry a whole new meaning. My weary mind and heart began asking Jesus why we hadn’t seen more of His healing power in the last year and a half. Gently, Jesus reminded me of the MANY miracles we have seen! (May we never take those for granted!) But as I studied this verse further I was struck by the author’s prayer and by my own spiritual blindness. The author acknowledges God’s power to heal our broken bodies but that is not his prayer. His prayer is even bigger than that, he asks for something even more miraculous. “Dear Jesus, come and heal my broken spirit.”

God may choose to heal our bodies, but the deeper work of healing that is needed is in our spirits. Oh how I need that deeper healing! I love how the verse ends: And somehow Jesus came and brought to me the victory. The author seems almost surprised that Jesus answers this seemingly impossible, unattainable request! Can He truly bring healing deep in our spirits and give us the victory EVEN when He chooses not to answer our prayers in the ways we might wish? YES! “Beneath the cleansing flood.”

I was surprised (and yet not) to find out that the author of this hymn, Eugene Bartlett, was familiar with suffering. In fact, he reportedly suffered a stroke that left him bedridden at a very young age and it is from his bed that he wrote this hymn. This victorious hymn that is almost impossible to sing sitting down, was penned by someone who probably couldn’t stand on his own.  And yet, Jesus came and healed his broken spirit and somehow gave him the victory! May the same be true of me!

O victory in Jesus,
My Savior, forever.
He sought me and bought me
With His redeeming blood;
He loved me ere I knew Him
And all my love is due Him,
He plunged me to victory,
Beneath the cleansing flood.

But thanks be to God! He gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ.
I Cor. 15:57

*Image of VE celebration (
*Image of 1980 Victory (
*Image of Michael Phelps (
*Image of empty tomb (



“Suffering says we cannot bear under this cross alone – we can only bear it if we can bear depending on others, bear the vulnerability and intimacy of koinonia. If we can bear depending on Him.” (The Broken Way by Ann VosKamp, p 171)

Although I don’t need as much help as I used to immediately after the stroke, a year and and a half later, I still need help doing the most basic of things.  While I can walk with assistance and with a cane, for the most part, I am dependent on others.  At times when I realize how much time and how many people it takes to keep me functioning I can feel very unworthy and even depressed. One of the hardest parts of this journey for me has been being so needy, needing so much help so much of the time. I ask myself,why it is so hard to need help or ask for help, when, we know, we are not made to be autonomous. We need each other. My own father liked to say that even our belly buttons remind us that we came into the world with help. So why are we so averse to being needy or dependent?

Self sufficiency and independence are core values for us, as Americans/Westerners. We raise our kids to be self sufficient and we do all we can to insure care for the elderly by securing retirement plans with benefits and plenty of insurance or, at the very least, planning to live near children so as to guarantee care as needed. This makes it hard to receive or ask for help. I don’t like to need help, or ask for help, or sometimes even receive it. I especially don’t like to see the cost of care to my caregivers, mostly my husband and oldest daughter, on whom the burden is the greatest. My husband has had his work rhythms, goals and opportunities interrupted, as well as his sleep for a year and a half. Our oldest daughter who teaches in Germany has flown back and forth across the ocean countless times to be here for us, while spending all her school breaks coming home to care for me. Sometimes I want to say to God, along with Job, “I would speak to you about your justice.” It just doesn’t seem fair when others suffer, especially on our behalf and we can’t do anything about it.

I think the obvious answer is that it’s pride that keeps us from receiving help grace-fully, but I think there is also a matter of control, a measure of surrendering control of our own lives that is so hard to do. I find there can be a real power struggle in me to let go of my way of doing things, my preferences, choices or even just letting go of the power to meet my own needs, or the needs of others. While my own limitations keep me so very dependent on others, the reality is that I am already dependent on God for life and breath every day. However, this new and greater level of dependence helps me understand in a new way what Jesus meant when He said that apart from the Father, He could do nothing. The interdependence between Father, Son, and Spirit is a mystery, to be sure, but maybe we get a glimpse of it when we are forced to recognize our own dependence in a way that is truly humbling and helps us accept the help of the family of God around us, each with their own gifts and abilities to share with those in need, which may be me! I can also understand now how one can pray without ceasing. If Paul had a physical limitation that God did not choose to heal, then he needed Jesus every hour like I do!

I have never been more in need of His help or more grateful for the Body of Christ who has come around me to support and strengthen me. Through them I see His love manifested in a way that has kept me alive in body and spirit. I will forever be indebted to Amy, Miriam, Jennifer, Lucy, Kim, Catie, Christianah, Becky, Victoria, Marcy, Susie, Sue, Kaylyn, Jeannie, Lindsay and others who have been God’s messengers of grace and help to me in laying down their lives, by giving up plans, schedules, time, energy to help me live. I am thankful that I can know His peace and joy when I confess my need and receive His help through others.

(Below are some pictures taken this summer)


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Easter Realities

It’s been 16 months since the stroke. My left arm continues to be lifeless and my left leg still weak and stubborn. Even as I seek more and more to accept, even embrace, my physical limitations as the new normal, frustration is an ever present reality. I must acknowledge that underneath this frustration with my continued immobility and almost constant need for help, there is a sense of suppressed outrage, that it shouldn’t be like this.

As I struggle to embrace my weakness and handicaps, I have found myself pondering the weakness and vulnerability Jesus took on in order to redeem me. This became especially apparent to me during Passion Week. Imagine what it must have felt like for the All powerful God to take on human weakness, limitation, brokenness. Surely He knew frustration over being human. Ann Voskamp speaks so well into this reality when she says in The Broken Way: “what warms us is the wounded, weeping God who doesn’t write answers in the stars but writes His ardent love for us, with His wounds. Right into our wounds. He suffered for us, but He also suffers with us.”

Isaiah tells us, “In their (the Israelites) distress, He (God) too was distressed.” When my feelings tell me that God is apathetic to my struggles or that He has abandoned me, I remind myself of the Truth of who He really is, so I can say with Isaiah: “I will recount the steadfast love of the Lord…according to all that the Lord has granted us (me),…according to His compassion and the abundance of His steadfast love. For He says, ‘Surely they are (mine)…and (I) am their Savior. In all their affliction, He was afflicted;…his presence saved them; in His love and in His pity He redeemed them; He lifted them up and He carried them all the days of old” (Isaiah 63:7-9) Yes, this is our God!

I may never have the mobility and independence that I long for this side of heaven. But who better to trust to carry me through these times of frustration all the way to the finish line than the One who understands the burden of my brokenness?

As most of you know, my own dear father slipped into eternity over Holy Week. He also found himself stuck in a body that wasn’t working up until the end. Right before he died, I playfully asked him if I could go with him. He reminded me, lovingly, as a father would, that it doesn’t work that way! But just as Jesus came and carried my earthly father to his eternal home, He will carry me over the threshold too one day. I need not fear when that time comes or be anxious for it. There is peace, His peace, that enables me to live and face each new day, whatever it may bring.

In the midst of my own personal pain and the heightened frustrations of my own physical brokenness, what I really long for is not more reasons why, or some better explanation of how or why things happen. I long for eyes to see the thousands of manifestations of His ardent love that surround me (i.e., children, grandchildren, friends and caregivers etc…)! He soothes my outrage, as I lament to Him, my Savior – the Man of Sorrows, acquainted with suffering and grief.

Some tangible manifestations of His love were especially apparent over Easter weekend as we celebrated the resurrection of Jesus and my father! What a glorious weekend to spend with our family celebrating a life fully lived for Jesus and now eternally in His presence. How grateful I am for the earthly father God gave me and for a heavenly Father whose presence and tangible love are ever-present – even, or maybe especially, in these tough days.

Click here to watch Dennis Kinlaw’s Memorial Service

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Here I raise my Ebenezer…

-Written by Anna-

This week marks one year since we brought Mom home from rehab. It was a day of celebration! However when I think back on it I remember very clearly the frustrations and the fears.

Frustration – Our departure ended up being weeks earlier than anticipated. The day of our departure though found us waiting all day for the paperwork for her release. Finally it came around dinnertime. God bless the sweet therapist that came after her shift to help us order the equipment we needed at the house, our local pharmacy that stayed open late just to fill Mom’s prescriptions and the nurses that walked us through her medications.

Fear – I clearly remember the fear! It took three trained aides to get Mom in our car. Could Dad and I manage to get her safely out? She was only a week out of surgery and still so weak and fragile! Would her wheelchair fit through our doorways? Could we care for her safely at home? How were we going to navigate this new reality?

Joy – And yet in the midst of frustrations and fears, there was a deep sense of joy and gratitude! We were bringing Mom home! Something we could not have imagined three months earlier! Truly a miracle!

Three months had passed since Mom had walked out of the house for lung surgery. So much had changed. We were all different people. For Mom, many of the changes were obvious. She was now being wheeled into the house that she had walked out of three months earlier, now dependent on others for everything. Yet some of the changes were not as obvious. Walking through the valley of the shadow of death changes you. And it should.

The type of change though is a choice.  As our family seeks to adjust to our new normal my prayer has and continues to be that we would all be changed and changed for the better! In recent months we have each faced moments of overwhelming gratitude and overwhelming grief as we look at the losses and gains of this past year. I don’t pretend to have any answers but I do believe that by walking through the valley we have come to know in deeper ways the One who chose the path of suffering for us! What an amazing gift to serve and follow a God who understands suffering and loss! Hallelujah! What a Savior!

Today in my Bible 7 class we acted out the book of I Samuel. Yes, you read that right. It was either a brilliant move or a moment of insanity that led me to try and act out thirty-one chapters of Old Testament history with sixteen 7th graders! I don’t know how much they got out of it (aside from the great fun of acting out battle scenes with your classmates of course!) But as I poured over the book in preparation I was moved by seeing HIS story unfold in the midst of personal and national struggles. I was inspired by the heroes of the faith who turned to God in their moments of suffering and joy and I was grieved by the tragedy of those who let their fears and insecurities keep them from obeying Him! I was struck by the fact that the real victories and losses seemed to occur before and/or after the battle/crisis not during. But the part that really stood out to me this morning was a passage from a very familiar story. After an Israelite victory over the Philistines, Samuel raised a stone and called it Ebenezer. “Thus far has the Lord helped us.” (I Samuel 7:12) Samuel knew that their victory was from the Lord and the stone served as a physical reminder of the Lord’s faithfulness to His people. 

As we mark another milestone in this journey, a year of Mom being back at home, I would like to raise our Ebenezer and testify to the fact that “Thus far has the Lord helped us.” And just like Samuel we know that there will be more battles to come, but this Ebenezer stone is a reminder to the people of the faithfulness of the God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob!

Much has changed in our lives in the last year but we serve the same God as Samuel and His loving kindness and faithfulness have not changed. Hallelujah! What a Savior! 



I have found great freedom lately in coming to the awareness that I do not have to understand God to know Him. In fact, knowing Him helps bring understanding, but understanding is not essential to knowing and living in relationship with Him. If I had waited to understand my husband,Stan, before I married him, I would still be unmarried. Of course, understanding helps with knowledge but it is not a necessity to entering into relationship, or, may I add, staying in relationship.

Jesus didn’t explain His love He demonstrated it. “But God shows his love for us in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us (Romans 5:8)”Certainly this is true with the mystery of suffering. Rather than giving us a book of answers to the question of why we suffer, He shows us by suffering Himself for my sake!

this-is-my-bodyLast week while taking communion at church I was in a lot of physical pain as I heard the words,”this is my body, broken for you.” Tears filled my eyes as I was ever so aware in that moment of my own broken body and brokenness. I realized anew how amazing the Good News really is that He suffered for us, in part so that He could suffer with us. He did this so that though we may never understand all the reasons for our sufferings, we would never have to walk through our sufferings alone! Our God knows what it is to suffer and to be broken. He identifies in all things with us. This is a comfort to me, as I live with my broken body and as I try to wrap my mind around His brokenness for me!

Recently, on a day when Stan and I were feeling the losses more than the comforts in this “recovery” (the word makes me feel like laughing now), we both got in touch with some of the losses we have experienced and commenting about changes in who we are now. Stan admitted to missing the wife he has known for 39 years and I admitted to missing her as well. Painful yet freeing to acknowledge. Then I saw a picture of us taken just a couple of years ago and irritation, even anger, rose up inside me. We are not those people anymore! That youngish, vibrant couple is gone. Suffering and care giving have aged us both but it has also changed who we are. The realization that we are not going back to the people we once were (recovery), but becoming something new, (re-discovery) tempered and hopefully refined by suffering. The thought was both sobering and freeing.

I recently heard the story of country singer, Joey Feek, a young wife and mother who recently passed away from cancer. I was told that she testified that her life was different when, after the return of cancer, she saw a sign that said, “This is your life.” From this point on, she was free to live what was left of it. This is your life. You have NOW. Live it as long as you can. It was like a fresh calling to me, too, to LIVE THIS life, the one I have now, embracing the brokenness. Because the brokenness is the only path to wholeness, not to recovery, but to becoming a new creation.”Behold He makes all things new (Rev. 21:5)” So I am learning to live the life He’s given me, broken pieces and all.

“He makes everything beautiful in His time”…even me. (Ecc. 3:11)


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His Comforts

“Just as the sufferings of Christ overflow in your lives, so do the comforts.” (I Cor. 1:5) I am experiencing the truth of this verse in new ways these days. And though this year has brought suffering, it has also brought His comforts.

img_1352His Word. A Bible verse that has brought me comfort me over and over again in this journey is I Tim.4:17: “But the Lord stood at my side and gave me strength.” Knowing that He could stand even when I couldn’t comforted me. Knowing that He stood beside my bed brought comfort when I felt alone, as one often does in pain or suffering. He has stood by me through each stage of this journey. What a comfort! (Thankful for friends who gave me this early on in my journey. It continues to hang in our living room as a daily reminder)

img_2285Aslan. Another source of comfort to me has come in the form of a small stuffed lion. It was a gift from my grandson, Jaden. We named him Aslan after the good, though not tame, lion in C.S Lewis’s Narnia books.  Aslan went with me everywhere. During one of my transfers, the ambulance driver asked, “Does he go too?” “He goes wherever I go,” I answered.  As in Narnia, the presence of Aslan makes everything alright. I could imagine Jesus with me, just as Aslan was, everywhere I went. And every time they moved me, I knew that God was with me, fighting for me, standing with me. Aslan is still never far from me. He reminds me that I am loved and “I am His”, and He has been beside me through it all, giving me strength. What a comfort!

Music. Especially in the early days of recovery, when reading was difficult, music was a real comfort. Here is one song, among many, that brought and continues to bring comfort. Chris Tomlin – The Roar

flowersGifts. I am always blessed and amazed at how perfectly timed His comforts are. One example (among many) occurred just this past week, shortly after my fall. I was returning from a doctor visit and feeling particularly tired and discouraged only to be greeted by a beautiful bouquet of flowers from cousins that live on the other side of the world. What a comfort!

img_2280Beauty/Memories of His goodness. Near my chair, where I spend most of my time, I have pictures of the lavender fields from the South of France. They remind me not only of the amazing beauty of God’s creation but of a wonderful long weekend spent in France with my daughter just a few months before my stroke. What a comfort to be reminded of His goodness to me!

I have heard that in the wilderness of the Sinai peninsula (where the Israelites spent so much time) that there are few,if any, signs of life, except for the broom trees that dot the landscape. These trees provide the only shade from the sun and the only cover when night falls. Their wood also provides for fires when the cool of night comes. Broom trees! That’s what God gives us in the midst of the most barren places of our lives. Broom trees like a special verse, ambulance drivers, stuffed lions, grandchildren, family, friends who show up when I need them most, etc. Each brings comfort in His name and encouragement along the desert journey.

I have seen His comforts again and again and have learned not to despise even the smallest of comforts in the midst of trials. “Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil for you are with me; your rod and your staff they comfort me.”Psalm 23:4  His rod and staff will and do bring comfort. I pray that we all have eyes to see His many comforts even in the midst of suffering.