Value is in the Heart of the Beholder

With spring around the corner, I got this itch to get ahead on some spring cleaning. Leaning along the wall in my bedroom, in vertical stacks, are old frames that I've kept safe for years. I finally decided to move them. Looking at each picture made me reminisce about old times, good times. Then I found "the Jesus picture." Normally, I'm creeped out by "Jesus pictures" but not this one. Since I was a little girl, I've always loved this one. Simple. Drawn with pencil or charcoal, I could never tell. It was always calming to me because the face reminded me of my dad. In fact, when I was little, I remember asking him if it was him. There wasn't a time where I'd pass this picture and not gaze at it and appreciate the artist. Even if it was just seconds, my eyes would lock on it all the time. My mom told me that the picture (with the frame) were bought at a garage sale in Dallas Center 40+ years ago, by my grandparents.

 Wiping away the dust off this old frame that I've kept for my mom the last few years, I picked it up. And in one fell swoop, the back came off, the picture and glass starting falling out as well, and here I was trying to piece it all back together. "Who's bright idea was it to tape the back of this frame?" I thought.

back of the frame. Yep. That's paneling taped to the back.  

I didn't think anything of the blank extra paper that was in there, assuming it was a typical backing piece of paper for the integrity of the picture. But then, the color struck me. "That looks old... really old." I thought.

the "old paper" I first saw. 

My curiosity, as always, got the better of me. I wanted to pick it up, touch it, and see what kind of design may have been on the other side, if anything at all.

I carefully fished it out of the framing. I quickly saw the other side was a type of document. I read the words at the top, "Guthrie County High School at Panora, IA"

"Cool! It's local!" I thought to myself. I saw the name "Mary E. Whisler." It was a high school diploma. I didn't recognize the name at all, but then my eyes scrolled down the document and then I locked in on the date.

"May 13th, of 1887"

Can we just take a moment and do this?....        "!!!!!!!!!"

"Guthrie County High School, at Panora, Iowa. To the Friends of Public Education, Greeting:
Be it known, that Mary E. Whisler has completed the Classical Course of Study prescribed for the Guthrie County High School, and is therefore certified to receive this Diploma. In Testimony, Whereof, the names of the Offices of the Board of Trustees, and the name of the Principal of the Guthrie County High School are hereunto subscribed this 13 day of May 1887." Signed Principal Ray and two Trustees (that I can't for sure make out there names). 

Almost instantly, my fingers were tingling with excitement, very aware of the sensation of aged paper. I've never held paper this old in my hands before. I put it back down carefully and yelled for my husband who was in the shower. He couldn't hear me. My children came into my room wondering what all the excitement was about. I explained to them this precious document, trying to help them understand how old it was. I told them, "America was only 100 years old when this diploma was made!" My ten year old son's eye grew wide, matching my excitement. Then I couldn't wait any longer, "Joshua! (my husband) Get out of the shower! You've got to see what I found!" Oh, the sweet man. He got out quickly and I watched as his face brightened with enthusiasm. We all dolled over the document, taking in all it's age. My husband got to work on the internet to find the name. I contacted my mom and aunt to see if they knew the name. They didn't but called all sorts of family/friends to help figure it out. I remember sitting there with the document laid out before me, just staring at it. Touching it delicately, like you would a painting. And then, I bent down and yes.... I smelled it. Several times. That old rich scent of wood and paper surged through my senses, making my imagination go wild with what life was like for Mary E. Whisler to achieve her high school diploma, likely dressed in those huge beautiful dresses I see in the old Jane Austen movies. This was exciting.

But I didn't know what to do with it. Surely there was a family or a museum that would love a document like this. It survived so well in this old frame with the back taped. (seriously, who's idea was that?)

I found another big frame, in much better shape, and re-framed the diploma to keep it safe. I gave it to my mom and we agreed her the task of finding out where it would best be given. A former boss of my mom's,  Lynnea Andersen, who is originally from Panora, helped Mom find more information. Lynnea called her dad and he gave them names and numbers of the family members of Mary E. Whisler. Mom talked to the only 2 living relatives of Mary and it was agreed that the best place for the diploma was at the Panora Museum.

I can't wait to visit the museum and see that very document that I found, and held, and yes, even sniffed, waiting for the world to enjoy it.


Special thanks to: (my mom) Linda Ruppert, (my aunt) Carmen Cratty, Lynnea Andersen, her father, Mary E. Whisler's family members, and the Panora Museum for taking special care of it from here on out.

Mastery: Letting go of being free of your struggles

In a crazy cycle recently, (where my depression spirals because I rarely feel well, making me crumple in a fetal position, crying, wanting my life to be over because I feel so worthless) I came to a certain resolve. I wanted to be free. Free of the depression, free of the stress, of the health issues. I would plead to God to take it away, but still I struggled... every day... trying to find the reason why I want keep fighting, even though I don't feel well.

Can we ever really be free? Free of illness? Chronic illness? Free of mental issues? Depression? Anxiety? Anger? Debilitating conditions?

Scriptures say “we are free.” What the hell does that even mean? I mean, let’s talk spiritually speaking here. We are stuck in this world, this fallen world. Jesus came and said the words Himself, “if the Son sets you free, you are free indeed.” But in context, He was talking about sin though. We are free from the bondage of our own sin. (note to self: that doesn't mean the sin against us from others and obviously, this didn't stop the consequences of the physical fallen world, since we still get sick and die, BUT...) We are made spiritually new. (And when we rise, we will be made physically new) We will be found clean in the face of God when we meet Him, because of the freedom we have received from the Son. Does this give me hope? Yes.

But, but, but…..

What about today? What about now? I don’t mean to sound impatient, but not only have I been dealing with this illness, this depression for so long now but…. Where is the respite? I believe in miracles, but after watching Dad die of cancer, I learned that miracles come in different forms and not always the way you want them to happen.

I went through a serious bout of more depression recently that circled around that fact that I may never be free of this illness, this depression, this fatigue cycle. Once again, God was just a figure standing there with His back turned away from me. “Not this one. Not this time” was what I kept hearing in response for my pleading with God to release me from this struggle. I didn't understand why. I still don’t understand why. But something had to give. I wanted to give up but that’s where it got complicated. Can’t give up something that is in you, something that you are dealt, something that you've lost. Giving up was impossible, unless I was willing to kill myself. Sure. I thought about it. I thought about releasing my husband from a sick wife, releasing my kids from a sick mother. But then… I’m too much of a pansy and well… my babies are… babies. I couldn't even think about doing that to them. It was devastating losing my dad at 16, I didn't want to put them through something like that. No. I wanted to live… But I want to LIVE. Like really live, like tear up the yard because all my plans are ridiculous and so…. *Kailan*. Like paint and decorate weird things on my walls for company to find as they creep through our house. Like not only school the kids in just the basics of education, but really take them out and let them experience things to the fullest. Like actually play with them again. You know? LIVE!

But if I can’t be free…..where’s my hope in that? Sure, I may get better some day. I may not. But what I do know is that “today” I must.

I started reflecting on something then. God told Cain that he must master his anger. (I use this lesson a lot in parenting) Was Cain wrong to be angry about Abel’s offerings? (because Abel gave better than Cain) No. But he was angry at the wrong person. His anger was a trigger, given by God, something beautiful. But his first mistake was getting mad at the wrong person, second mistake was he didn't heed God’s advice. Third mistake…. He went ahead and killed Abel in his anger, permanently silencing him and permanently stirring his own demise…. All because he couldn't- wouldn't master it.

I found myself realizing that if I wasn't going to be free of depression, and maybe even this sickness, then I must learn to master it, before it kills me.

So the research went into hyper-drive. The first things Jesus did was help the physical. I needed to be my own Jesus. (is that sacrilege to say?) I needed to help myself physically. Things like getting my ass back into the doctors office and not giving up on that part of things. Eating healthier, drinking more water, and taking my vitamins. I don’t have a second head that’s going to do all this for me. (well... it seems I do have a second head, but she isn't very helpful) I have to stand up for myself and master as much as I can for my body’s sake. I’m still figuring all this out.

Then the emotional/mental; counseling and talking with intimate friends, people I trust. Letting them in. Doing things that fill me up. I’m an introvert, so my things are reading, writing, making music and art. An extrovert may want to get out and run with a bunch of people… (oh wait… my husband does that.) A big one here is forgiving my bad days and embracing my good ones. I’m still figuring all this out.

Then the spiritual: I’m on shaky grounds here. I question everything I knew. Sometimes I struggle in vain…. Heh… most times I do. I try to keep my head about me, but then lose it. I get mad at people when they start talking spiritual to me about my health issues. “You’re going through this for a reason.” (makes me feel like a puppet on a string) “God will never give you anything you can’t handle” (right. And that’s why Christians kill themselves…. Or are killed. And actually, that line is often misquoted, so boom.) “Can’t you just shake it off and keep moving?” (shake it off… without breaking out in song, I ****ing wish I could shake it off and move the body that has it’s own agenda…. Ah! Dang it. Now that dang song is struck in my head) But in all seriousness, I'm letting myself wrestle with my faith. I love God. He is awesome. I just don't always "feel" His awesomeness. And maybe that's ok?  I’m still figuring all this out.

I've made up my mind though. I’m going to master this.

I watched the movie “The Gabby Douglas Story” recently. (awesome movie on Netflix, btw) and as I watched this sweet girl’s young life unfold, I saw the struggle, the passion, the desperation, and the hope. I saw this extraordinary family come together around this girl with extraordinary talent, but ultimately, it was up to her to find her teacher, do the work, fall and rise, and master her skills. She killed it at the Olympics, by the way.

There’s going to be a lot of days when I fail, but this is my trying. Mastering this doesn't even mean that “all will be well”, it just means that I have a plan to discipline myself. On my good days, I’m going to play and laugh, get stuff done, make my weird "kailan" creations. On my bad days, I’m going to cry, not eat when I don’t want to, slow down, forgive myself, cuddle a lot (since that’s the main thing I’m able to still be good at) and go to bed early. Mastering this means I’m going to stop telling myself that I’m not worth it. Or that I’m not a good wife and that he could do better/ have better. Mastering this means I’m going to change that self-talk. I am valuable to Him. I am talented. I am really really good at cuddling no matter what state I’m in. I have a husband, my support system, who goes to the moon and back for me because he thinks I’m worth it. I have friends that love me and all my quirks.

Any time I want to simply be free of my depression and illness, I just get more depressed.

That only leaves me one logical living choice. I must master it.

And so far…. I’m starting to have real hope.

My "Lost" Girl

photo by Tesh, my 5 year old

I was doing some yard work this last weekend.... I know.... shocker.... anywho... it was finally nice outside and a lovely city animal helped itself to our trash can, breaking open a trash bag and making it rain trash all over the yard. While the hubs was gone running, I decided it would be good to get out of the house and pick up some trash! :D Yay!

Only 2 kids came outside with me. My 3 and 5 year old. They were having a blast! (and by blast I mean, bickering every 2 min. over the swings and something about where the umbrella was on the slide.... I quit listening to specifics after a while... anywho... ) As they played in the back yard, I was minding my own drama free business, with my gorgeous grocery sack in hand, picking up glorious amounts of trash around the yard. This animal must have been taking some anger out with all this trash. Good night! I walked around the house, slipping out of sight, looking for stragglers from the wind blown consequences and faithfully found more. I could hear the laughter and bickering and laughter and bickering coming from the backyard, all pleasant noises telling me exactly what they are doing, where they are in the yard, all that good stuff. I moved to the front, still being able to hear them and determined to get this yard clean. Thankfully, there wasn't too much in the front... how embarrassing right? (let's keep all that in the back... shall we? at least the animal had that much respect ;)

So I come around to the other side of the house, still out of sight, all the same playful bliss noise coming from the back. As I scrape across the driveway, inching my way back to the original crime scene where our garbage cans are I'm thinking, "Man! We use a lot of paper towels." Then I hear my 5 year old yelling,

"Mom? Mom?!.... Mom!! ... Mom!!" I stepped back into sight, "Hey sweetie! I'm here!"

"We were lost! We were lost and I couldn't find you. We were lost!" she exclaimed.

"You weren't lost, silly girl!" Yes, I chuckled, we have a small yard and there's no way to get lost. "You never were lost." I tried to explain, she cut me off -

"No, we were lost! We were!"

 "I knew where you were this whole time. I just went around the house. You couldn't see me, but I heard you the whole time, and came to you because I knew right where you were. That is not lost. You were just scared because you couldn't see me."

the "lost" girl

She finally conceded.... I think... she at least dropped the argument anyway. So when she's 16 and she tells the world that I "lost" her when she was 5, She is totally lying!!! ehem... misunderstood... moving on...

But that made me think. That whole encounter. Her brain fascinates me, but is it not true of us as adults when we think about God and whether or not He's absent based on our feelings/fears/confidence/etc.? I wonder if God chuckles when we argue are "lost-ness" or their lost-ness. (when I say my made up word "lost-ness", it reminds me of the Loch Ness monster which has nothing to do with this post.)

Why do we even use that word when speaking about such things?    "lost"

Maybe I'm arguing semantics but I know when I feel "lost", I'm swelled with fear and anxiety. I know God cares for me, and that He loves me and that I am His...But I can't "see" Him. I can't always feel Him....  But I do know He'll always know right where I am. He never does lose me.  

It's simply impossible. 

I'm sure there's a title here...

It is such a struggle to write. I love writing. But sitting down, with 5 kids running a muck, interrupting me every 2 minutes, and having been dealt with a lot of sickness the last month, I have wondered whether or not I should be writing right now. But when I think about taking one of the few things that keep me sane as I sit outnumbered by minions in my own house, I realize how absurd that truly is. So I must continue to figure out how to protect this time to keep working on projects and sharing with all of you. (or the few of you.... ;)

I rung in the new year with a sinus infection! It's been awesome. (catch the sarcasm) I'm still on the mend from this painful illness. My headaches have been better though, that's a plus! They are still around, but so weak most of the time, all it takes is for me to eat and get out of the situation I am in and then I'm ok. I told a friend recently that working through my chronic stress and depression is like mastering life with an amputated leg. (no, I'm not comparing it to it's entirety, because, yes, I do still have my legs) But I feel as if I was strolling along life with a certain speed, with certain clarity, and then BAM, I'm sickly, headaches all the time, weak, irritable, stressed, anxious, triggers everywhere, all of it. It's taken sacrifices though, things I used to do, or be able to handle, I just can't right now. And I have to be ok with that. I have to learn my limits, my boundaries, my body's health needs, and allow the spiritual process of all of it to fall into play. But it's been hard. Very very hard. And I don't do well at this most of the time, but I can't tell you how thankful I am for my husband and my close friends.

My husband..... he's on this new kick. He's always been way more fit than me, always has more energy (being an extrovert) and I'm pretty sure he's related to Hercules in some way. He started running a couple weeks ago, in our east-side, scary when dark, just outside downtown still within city limits (what is that called? anywho) . At first he would be gone for 15 minutes. Next time turned into 30, within the next week turning into an hour. It was then he realized that he could really run... and far... stretching to 5 and 6 miles after just a few weeks. He wanted to make his New Years resolution something that seemed impossible and something he's never done before. But he wanted it to be something, that only a still small voice could say, "yes, you can accomplish this." He decided to start training for a full marathon that he will register for in about a month or so, and race in October, here in our city. I know my "Hercules" can do it. I've been watching him with pride as his health has improved, his stamina has strengthened, and his mental focus is ready. Of course, I'm pretty disappointed that he lost his "man" belly. I liked hugging and snuggling to that. But I support him, he needs this, and he deserves this. (for putting up with all my crazy, God bless him.) Follow his journey here.

In all this excitement, I was constantly reminded of my own health. My throat, almost every night, still hurts from being sick. And because it's been so long of it, I found depression visiting me like an old friend. (although, she's never been a good friend) She sits with me and tells me quiet things like, "Look at how sick and weak you are. And look at him. He's living... and you? You are dying. Poor kailan. Never will you really live."

I looked at my thriving husband and started crying. I knew I needed to talk to him and I did and he found me. (in fact, I don't think he ever "lost" me) He was on to her sly ways and guessed right, when pegging why my depression would set right now. Oh... to be understood! He's so romantic when he does that.

My heart was pleading for him to take me with him on this health journey. That his energy would pull me up from these depths and help me to "run" with him. (er... get healthier... write... stay sane...you know, translate it in a kailan-friendly way.... I will never be the adrenaline junky that he is.)  He gladly agreed to hassle me about diet, vitamins, doing low key exercises like yoga. Truly, I need to let his energy right now be an encouragement to me. Although our journeys and outcomes will be different, they can still be accomplished. Even though it feels impossible right now for me to be healthy again, mastering depression (not free, but I choose the word "master" very particularly and I'll write about that later), I need to let that even quieter voice (quieter than her voice) tell me, "You can accomplish this because you are Mine."

As I sit here, with a tinge of a headache creeping on me as I finish this, I know that it's time to step away from the computer, eat some lunch, and trust that I will make it.

Dancing with December

O December

You never evade me.

My heart betrays me.

It’s a painful price to even look at you.

8 years passed.

In my head, she dies again…. Every time.

All treasonous senses so religiously remind me.

Time’s repetitious dance is my enemy.

If I could blot you out, I would.

Useless to pray you away.

My old love for you remembers better days.

Days filled with light passed, now clouded by darkness.

Days with joy and excitement passed, now knocks dread.

Warm family closeness wrestles isolation.

Why must I take your hand as you escort me through memories I wish I could forget?

Your swift movements lure me in, arms remain warm as the silent snow falls.

I feel your attempts to cover my eyes from the sight of her empty face, but it’s no use.

I hear your song, “Because of the One we celebrate this season, we have Hope…”

It’s not that I don’t take solace in those words. I do.

It’s just the measure of my heartache is that great.

And you know this. Every year you know this.

You are one of the precious few who know me this well.

So this ornament, made with my own careful hands, will whisper in my ear

"Just breathe." 






(In memory of Sarah Layne Wing 9/7/06 - 12/17/06)

Awake: Surviving Depression

It's been 3 months since I've written anything. There's good reason to my hesitancy in publishing anything within those months. I've been unwell. Days turned into weeks, weeks into months of laying on the couch, in so much pain and weakness, watching my children fall into routine of taking more responsibilities because I was unable. Headaches and fatigue ruled my life and my mind became captive to it. My thoughts had no clarity, in fact the only thing that I could make out were words that said, "You are a burden." Those words drove me to desire death, so that my loved ones could go on with someone else, someone new, someone able. I never attempted suicide, but dreamed that God would just take me somehow. I had already been in the thick of the headaches, and the Spirit of God gave me strength and an oasis to spend the time I did with my Uncle Bud before and during his death. I found myself jealous of my uncle's passing, wishing it had been me. Any logic that was left in me said, "GO TO THE DOCTOR!!"

 I gave up. I surrendered. I tried all my natural home remedies. Any time I brought God up in it all, I condemned myself or felt God being passive to my suffering. I was in a physical, mental, and spiritual fog. I had successfully isolated myself away from most of my family and friends (because I "was a burden" remember?) My husband, (who is the best husband in the world, by the way) would come home from his stressful job to all the housework at home, five little kids yearning for his attention, needing his referee-ing. Not knowing what to say to me, he just held me. Whenever I asked, he held me. I would cry guilty tears of not getting anything done around the house. He'd coach me saying, "This too shall pass" but those words were muffled to my ears. I was stuck in "the now." I was overwhelmed with the endless torment my body had apparently betrayed me with, waiting to die, wanting to die. My husband took me to my first appointment.

I remember sitting there in disbelief that it had gotten this bad. My health. My depression. They were spiraling together, sinking me down and tying me to the bottom. My bonds were just too tight. Out of boredom of waiting in the doctor's office, I surfed through my email and found an article titled, "You Are Not Alone." I took a deep breath.

The doctor found my thyroid issues, and we started the long trek of balancing that out. Then continued on more meds for my depression. I had started this unique therapy with my Uncle Ed (who is a gifted counselor) called "EMDR Therapy" and it has greatly improved my mental clarity. Two mentors, who are some of my best friends, never left me in the dark alone. They walked with me, listening to my anger and desperation, never judging, turning my face to the hope of tomorrow. I finally started feeling better and then sprained my ankle, making me bedridden once again. Another bond, another weight. I felt so defeated. I asked God why He wanted me this way? Why He isn't protecting me or healing me to be able to live the way He says He wants us to? But I continued to take my meds, do the therapy, allow my body to heal, talk to my mentors, and ask my husband to hold me.

I still have my bad days of headaches, but each week seems to get a little better. As the bonds fade, my mind becomes clearer. This is not some miraculously quick healing for me, but the miracle here is what I have become even more aware of during this process. I found my Beloved Lord again. Not as this passive God who just stood and watched me writhe in pain, nor as a condemning God for not being the wife/mom/friend that I needed to be. He was in the doctor who sat and heard my ailments and knew what would help me. He was in my Uncle who so gracefully counseled me in the safety of his love for me, with a therapy he knew would help me. He was in my mentor and friend that sat across from me til midnight every Tuesday night at that restaurant, relating to my struggles, reminding me that life is hard, but we can do life together and we'll get through this. And He was in another mentor that corresponded words of wisdom and understanding, challenging me to grow and to see beyond myself. And my favorite, was when He held me through the arms of my husband, "this too shall pass" "this is only a season" "I know you are hurting. I know. And I love you."  I had found myself again too. My notorious God-given "strong-will" that has gotten me, truly, this far in life and then... I didn't want to die anymore. (I mean, don't get me wrong, heaven is going to be awesome, but...) I wasn't so ready to leave right now.

I want to live. I see God everywhere.

In this slow healing, I am learning patience, grace, new appreciations, and new perspectives.

I finally made it to church this sunday, after months of being absent, and my pastor put it perfectly, teaching us (from the example of the Hebrews being freed and wandering the wilderness for so long) that you can be taken out of slavery, but it is through the wilderness, the slavery can be taken out of you.

God has, indeed, freed me from my bonds through Jesus Christ, but it was the bonds that were in me that I was feeling still. This world is the wilderness, for which I will learn how to live in this freedom from my bonds.

And every morning, I wake up, making it a point to say, "I am fine."

The Richest Feeling in the World

One day before he died, his wife washed him with water and washcloths. 

I've had the privilege of sitting with my uncle in his last week before he died. These moments (pictured) were some of the last moments this wife had to serve her husband, literally the day before he died. He'd been in the hospital for weeks and she wanted to wash him. Being hooked up to so many tubes she got a bucket with warm water and washcloths and washed him. There was some time I had with him alone, before this, while she went away to get ready for the move to hospice that was to take place in just a few hours. I brought my dad's journals with me (journals he wrote in while he was sick before he died) in hopes to read them to my uncle to give him some comfort. Words that may make him feel he is not alone in this final journey on Earth.

"A favorite honeymoon memory is....
       On our wedding night, we stayed at a flea bag motel called the Hickman Motor Lodge, making distant plans for a distant honeymoon that we have cared less and less about, to some ever-changing location. The tree of love has many branches and roots. God has let me see the roots of my tree; a privilege I thank Him for.     My Honeymoon- that special bloom in a marriage- began March 1, 2000 when doctors told me even "Ziebart" won't help my body. I have fallen in Love with Lyn more than ever in my life, more than I have words to express. From the depths of my soul I am overwhelmed with a closeness I could have never imagined. I have never felt so full of Love and so loved, so safe, so cared for, as I do now. I love everyone ten times more, but I love my mate 100 times more. God, Lyn, my family - I am the richest man in the world... 
    ...... to infinity and beyond!"  
                                                                              ~journal entry written by Joseph Ruppert, Jr. 

When I got finished reading that passage, I looked up at my uncle and witnessed the gladdest smile, his wrinkles like sun beams brightening his face, his eyes were closed with gratefulness and he said, "Yes! THAT is soooo true! I love her sooo much!"