What Venus and I (May) Have in Common

Yesterday I had an appointment with the autoimmune/rheumatology specialist I have been waiting to see. He played connect the dots with my symptoms. Hair falling out? Check. Eyes dry? Check. Mouth dry? Check. Skin rash? Check. Exhausted? Check. Muscles hurt? Check. Joints swollen and painful? Check. Gastrointestinal discomfort? Check.

Who have I seen? Opthamologist who diagnosed me with blepharitis. Gastroenterologist who diagnosed me with Barrett's Esophagus. Internist who has diagnosed me with 'borderline' diabetes and pernicious anemia. Oh and multiple bouts of candida infections on or in just about every part of my body. Pulmonologist who diagnosed me with sleep apnea. This is not to mention the findings of sciatica and a few bulging discs and bone spurs pinching nerves in my neck as a result of an accident.

He takes in all my complaints, looks at all my prior blood test results and says I am in the right place. My body is having autoimmune problems and all these things are related. I almost cried. Not scared or worried crying. Overjoyed. Up to that moment I thought I was the greatest hypchondriac malingerer on the planet. Then I realized that what he is telling me is that my immune system has turned Benedict Arnold on me and is attacking the good cells in my body. I am being hit by friendly fire.... covertly.... in the secrecy of my own skin. My leukocytes are turncoats.

I told the doctor to tell me what he was thinking because my imagination is far worse than whatever he was considering. He threw out a few possibilities. Autoimmune hepatitis. Sjogren's Syndrome. Lupus. And things scarier than all those combined. I told him I was going to consult Dr. Google on these and see if I wanted any of them. He assured me I don't. Never heard of Sjogren's Syndrome. That's what I Googled first. If I have to have it, I'll take primary Sjogren's thank you. I would rather not have it be a symptom of another autoimmune disease like lupus or rheumatoid arthritis or scarier stuff. Oddly enough there wasn't a lot to read on it... until this morning.

There I was watching Good Morning America and Venus Williams is announcing that she's dropping out of tennis competition because she's been diagnosed with Sjogren's. Later in the day I Googled Sjogren's and a plethora of sites are now available to tell you all about it.

I tell you what. I would rather have something else in common with Ms. Williams. I hope the one thing we have in common is rebirth. No, not Birth of Venus by Botticelli. I hope we share spiritual rebirth. I want us to share the hope that all things work together for good for those who believe and are called according to His purpose and pleasure.

Oh, and if I do have Sjogren's, I am changing its name to Shogun Syndrome. That sounds a lot more formidable and frankly, if I am going to be kicked around I would rather it be by a Japanese "commander of force" than some Swedish doctor who got to name a syndrome after himself. Yeah, I know. Prideful even in malady. That's me.

Spiritual Aphasia aka Senseless Theology

I was recently asked why I read theology and follow theological debates. "It's all just words and opinions." Words. Words on a paper, words on a blog. Words that travel invisibly through our airwaves and our minds. What would our inner monologue consist of without words? Harsh words, gentle words, untrue words, and solid you-can-die-behind them words. They have secret lives in the depths of our souls. They overflow in torrents of grief and joy. They seep out of our character flaws, wearing down the weak convictions that hold them back until they contaminate all those around us. All of us are stained within and without by the raw sewage of unkind words. Our souls are in jeopardy for want of The Word. Jesus Christ. The Gospel. The Good News. Words matter. Doctrine matters. Theology Matters. What you win them with is what you win them to. I study theology because I was lost too long in a world that scrambles truth with its own ideas and preferences. I was fed a diet of tosse

Super Church a song for the Emergent-sy

In the early 70s I was in a youth choir at my church. Our youth pastor was a musician and his way of connecting with us as a group was through the choir and music. Somehow there was an affiliation between him and The Continental Singers, New Hope and Jeremiah People. He was worked with Moishe Rosen of Jews for Jesus too, I think. Are any of these names familiar to you? Though I remember the church fondly I was a profoundly lost and troubled young woman during my years there. That and time have muddled the memories quite a bit. Today I was digging through some old paperwork and one of the books to the musical we did. It's Getting Late For the Great Planet Earth, a folk rock oratorio by Cam Floria. Yes, that's right. Cam Floria put Hal Lindsey to music. There's a lot to laugh about and some to groan about but as I was looking through the songs and remembering, I found this little ditty and I only wish I could sing it for you. Just remember that this is circa 1972 and even th

What if.....

...what if I just need a place to let some words spill out? What if they spill out in bouquets of bright colors and pleasing scents but their frames are made of snakes and lies? Will you the reader be able to tell? Will it matter? When words smell like lilacs and honeysuckle do you care what lies beneath them? Perfumed syllables cover the stench of hope's decay. A violet or two will fool most surface dwellers, allowing them to pass by quickly and unaware. Is that what words are supposed to do? What if my aesthetics with words are similar to Morticia Addams' with flowers? What happens when luscious blooms are discarded? When the ragged silhouette of thorns is all that remains will you still see the beauty? Perhaps we'll find out.

rambling rosemarie

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