"So who is adventing this Sunday?" asked one of my congregation members.
For a moment, I had to chuckle. Adventing? Like the season of Advent is now a verb? "So, what did you do today?" "Oh, I did a few errands and some adventing..."
Now before there is some confusion with a denomination, the Seventh Day Adventists, or something involving them, the question referred to who was the assigned readers for this Sunday's Advent Wreath ceremony. The four candles in the wreath represent four Sundays until Christmas and carry the title of hope, peace, joy, and love. The center candle is the Christ candle. Advent is a liturgical season of waiting, hoping, expecting. Less somber than the season of Lent (the season prior to Easter), but more serious than Common Time (a terrible title for the time between Pentecost Sunday and Christ the King Sunday), Advent is not just a time to remember the coming of Christ as a babe, but more importantly, the coming of Christ now and in the future.
The meaning of Advent is coming, arriving, or appearing. It is a forward leaning season, even as it turns backward towards Christ's earthly birth. It is best practiced as a season of anticipation. I know I have shared before my tradition of the traveling nativity figurines of the Butterick household. None of the pieces arrive at the same time. Joseph and Mary arrive on Christmas Eve Day. Baby Jesus arrives Christmas Eve evening. The wise men arrive at the nativity on January 6, the day of Epiphany.
Each Sunday is a moment to recognize what is coming, arriving, or appearing. In the darkest of nights, hope still arrives. In the midst of wars, fights, and troubles, peace still arrives. In the midst of sadness, joy still arrives. In the midst of hatred, love still arrives. Advent helps remind us that we have not arrived but are arriving. We are journeying along the paths of becoming, arriving, or appearing.
Beyond Advent Sundays, we may recognize other moments and occasions of coming, arriving, or appearing. Two people coming together into a relationship. Arriving at a new place. Appearing in an unexpected role or accomplishment. Life can easily been seen as an extended train of coming, arriving, or appearing.
So perhaps my congregation member was not incorrect in "adventing" this season. Maybe it is good to think of this time not as a moment to be still (although rest is just as important as action) but rather a time of coming, arriving and appearing. I think we all could call it "adventing."
May your "adventing" season be blessed with moments of coming, arriving, and appearing.
Showing posts with label habits. Show all posts
Showing posts with label habits. Show all posts
Friday, December 7, 2012
Wednesday, November 21, 2012
Pacing Intervention
It has been a while since I have placed an update on my cardiovascular situation. To be as simple as possible: stable, but unimproved. My doctor stated that it is still "weak," and recommended a visit to the cardiologist. The cardiologist, in turn, recommended further intervention via an ICD, or an Implantable Cardioverter Defibrillator. With my weakened, post-heart attack heart, I am more likely to develop sudden cardiac arrest or a sudden rapid heart beat or arrhythmia. Either would likely result in death.
Needless to say, faced with additional intervention or death, I chose invention. An ICD was placed on my left side, just next to my arm. Leads were extended via an artery to my left, damaged side of my heart. It does have pacemaking capabilities, but is basically on stand-by until either situation actually develops. Apparently my heart attack's location is really close to the area where the electrical charge is generated, hence the greater risk of an unexpected electrical fault.
I know it is there, and ready to respond, which has brought some peace of mind. But like many survivors, I still have anxious moments whenever "something" feels funny in the chest. I can be thankful that such technology is now available, making life-threatening conditions treatable and manageable. It is truly amazing that my heart, though enlarged as a result of injury, continues to function as best as it can. I am still making the changes necessary for best outcomes, and hope that this "new" normal is part of my life for a long time.
For more information about ICD: http://www.nhlbi.nih.gov/health/health-topics/topics/icd/
Needless to say, faced with additional intervention or death, I chose invention. An ICD was placed on my left side, just next to my arm. Leads were extended via an artery to my left, damaged side of my heart. It does have pacemaking capabilities, but is basically on stand-by until either situation actually develops. Apparently my heart attack's location is really close to the area where the electrical charge is generated, hence the greater risk of an unexpected electrical fault.
I know it is there, and ready to respond, which has brought some peace of mind. But like many survivors, I still have anxious moments whenever "something" feels funny in the chest. I can be thankful that such technology is now available, making life-threatening conditions treatable and manageable. It is truly amazing that my heart, though enlarged as a result of injury, continues to function as best as it can. I am still making the changes necessary for best outcomes, and hope that this "new" normal is part of my life for a long time.
For more information about ICD: http://www.nhlbi.nih.gov/health/health-topics/topics/icd/
Sunday, July 15, 2012
After Heart Attack: One Year Later
Today is an odd sort of "anniversary" for me. It is one year since my heart attack. I've written about it before on this blog, so the details can be revisited, if needed. The basics of the story is that I was then a 35 year old who woke up that Friday morning not feeling "right," and ended up having one stent placed in the left side of my heart before sundown on July 15, 2011. I was also told that my quick action and response saved my life.
The last 365 days have been transformative. From no medications to four. From invincibility to mortality. From calm to panic. From shock to acceptance. My family history is riddled with stories of those who have died from heart attack and/or heart disease. These last 365 days have created a strange and new chapter in the family tree: a heart attack survivor.
Let's not go into the odd version of hell that is the US health care insurance industry that seems to willfully punish illness and is unwilling to pay for unexpected or unplanned treatment (like I could plan a heart attack?!). Thankfully, that chapter is also fading away.
As life moves on at its seemingly unstoppable one-day-at-a-time pace, I find myself seeing temptation of running once again fast and hard and as much as possible calling to me. Our "get it quick" and "get it now" society seems hell-bent on its own self destruction, leaving victims in its wake. Thankfully, I at least notice the warning signals of "too much" and find myself stopping before I'm once again do-it-all, be-it-all and on a fast track to another heart issue.
My healthy habits are improving once again, and I am willing to focus on that at the cost of other important (but not life-giving) matters or issues. Medications seem to be keeping things under control, although more healthy lifestyle changes cannot hurt (and perhaps can eliminate some medications altogether at some point).
One year later, it is an odd fraternity to be in as a heart attack survivor. I know many more survivors that I ever expected. I can truly say from experience that every little pain or odd sensation can send a terrifying panic into the mind. Many have said to me that you will never get completely rid of that from your psyche. I also know that much of life is how you embrace living, and if you have reason (or reasons) to live, will power is a powerful counter.
Sure, 2011 was a bit of a setback in my health and life. But it did not take either health or life fully away from me. I live with its consequences now and for the rest of my life. But there is life after life-threatening conditions. It can take one's life, and this past year is also filled with stories in which many loved ones have had that most precious gift taken from their lives and families.
In the midst of death, there is also life. In the midst of darkness, there is also light. Broken, yet whole. Hurt, yet healed.
Happy anniversary to Jason's heart. Let's keep moving together.
The last 365 days have been transformative. From no medications to four. From invincibility to mortality. From calm to panic. From shock to acceptance. My family history is riddled with stories of those who have died from heart attack and/or heart disease. These last 365 days have created a strange and new chapter in the family tree: a heart attack survivor.
Let's not go into the odd version of hell that is the US health care insurance industry that seems to willfully punish illness and is unwilling to pay for unexpected or unplanned treatment (like I could plan a heart attack?!). Thankfully, that chapter is also fading away.
As life moves on at its seemingly unstoppable one-day-at-a-time pace, I find myself seeing temptation of running once again fast and hard and as much as possible calling to me. Our "get it quick" and "get it now" society seems hell-bent on its own self destruction, leaving victims in its wake. Thankfully, I at least notice the warning signals of "too much" and find myself stopping before I'm once again do-it-all, be-it-all and on a fast track to another heart issue.
My healthy habits are improving once again, and I am willing to focus on that at the cost of other important (but not life-giving) matters or issues. Medications seem to be keeping things under control, although more healthy lifestyle changes cannot hurt (and perhaps can eliminate some medications altogether at some point).
One year later, it is an odd fraternity to be in as a heart attack survivor. I know many more survivors that I ever expected. I can truly say from experience that every little pain or odd sensation can send a terrifying panic into the mind. Many have said to me that you will never get completely rid of that from your psyche. I also know that much of life is how you embrace living, and if you have reason (or reasons) to live, will power is a powerful counter.
Sure, 2011 was a bit of a setback in my health and life. But it did not take either health or life fully away from me. I live with its consequences now and for the rest of my life. But there is life after life-threatening conditions. It can take one's life, and this past year is also filled with stories in which many loved ones have had that most precious gift taken from their lives and families.
In the midst of death, there is also life. In the midst of darkness, there is also light. Broken, yet whole. Hurt, yet healed.
Happy anniversary to Jason's heart. Let's keep moving together.
Monday, August 15, 2011
One month later...
Perhaps it is objectionable to call it a one month "anniversary," since anniversaries are generally associated with an annual date, rather than a mere thirty days. But it is a milestone I find myself contemplating.
Thirty days since heart attack. Besides my new medications, and my new constant companion of nitro-glycerin tablets for sudden chest pain, I feel normal. Fewer palpitations, less anxiety attacks, and fewer times I'm reaching towards my neck to take my "pulse." All rather good signs, actually.
There is a check-up on my lungs this week, as well as the Cardiac MRI to disclose next steps in treatment and/or therapy. I have been touched greatly by many acts of compassion and concern over the last four weeks. I have been encouraged by prayers, by cards, and by acts of kindness both great and small. Sometimes you wonder what difference you are making in your daily activities and your causes. I never fully realized or appreciated the larger community of colleagues and friends I have acquired through my life and its adventures!
I even have begun to regain my work duties at Prairie Avenue Christian Church, in small, careful steps.
I do get tired a little more quickly than before. Naps are my friends in the late afternoon. My night owl habits have faded away as I tend to turn in before 10 pm. I'm less insistent and demanding; more grace and forgiveness. I walk a little slower, which means I walk more closely to my wife than before.
Life has changed in so many ways, but thankfully, the good is greater than the bad.
Thirty days since heart attack. Besides my new medications, and my new constant companion of nitro-glycerin tablets for sudden chest pain, I feel normal. Fewer palpitations, less anxiety attacks, and fewer times I'm reaching towards my neck to take my "pulse." All rather good signs, actually.
There is a check-up on my lungs this week, as well as the Cardiac MRI to disclose next steps in treatment and/or therapy. I have been touched greatly by many acts of compassion and concern over the last four weeks. I have been encouraged by prayers, by cards, and by acts of kindness both great and small. Sometimes you wonder what difference you are making in your daily activities and your causes. I never fully realized or appreciated the larger community of colleagues and friends I have acquired through my life and its adventures!
I even have begun to regain my work duties at Prairie Avenue Christian Church, in small, careful steps.
I do get tired a little more quickly than before. Naps are my friends in the late afternoon. My night owl habits have faded away as I tend to turn in before 10 pm. I'm less insistent and demanding; more grace and forgiveness. I walk a little slower, which means I walk more closely to my wife than before.
Life has changed in so many ways, but thankfully, the good is greater than the bad.
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