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Inspirational Articles by Lygia Lovelace



Under the Bacon Press



I want to write something uplifting. I want to write an article about something other than my children and these diseases. I want to move on from this place of sadness, concern, even fear sometimes.


But these trials just keep happening.


Are you tired of hearing about it? Are you tired of praying for us? I'm tired of writing about it. But I have to. Please don't stop listening. Please don't stop praying. One day, I can write of other things. I long for that day! But right now? It's burning inside of me -- these trials, this journey. It's like falling fast and endlessly into a pit of utter darkness -- this realization that this really is happening. Unless God decides to completely heal them, Jonah (and our other biological children) will not "get over this." They cannot just take a pill and get better. Now Jonah is having some problems with his heart. How much more, Father? And if I hear one more time, "There is no cure," I might just scream.


But as I am falling and falling into this pit, amidst the darkness, there are Hands holding onto me. Strongly. Tenderly. Non-judgmental…those nail-scarred Hands.


Sometimes when we are out in public and Chase is pushing Jonah in his wheelchair, and Brooklyn is limping in her knee braces, and the twins are clinging to me…I see people staring. Sometimes I forget, and I wonder what they are staring at. This is normalcy for us. But the looks of others bring me back to realization.


Life is as strange as we are, you know? More and more I have been longing for all of us Lovelace's to re-unite in heaven. Won't it be a glorious time? No more pain, no more heart trouble, no more crying or wheelchairs or limping or chest pain or broken bones or doctors…no more uncertainty…no more death…NO MORE!


Within a week of each other, Brooklyn was in the ER, and then Elijah. Our youngest biological child -- the one that so far has not been diagnosed with a disease -- woke up this past New Years' Eve with blood in his urine. After it happened again, I called the pediatrician and we were sent to the ER of a large children's hospital in the area.


"Lovelace, right?" the resident doctor asked as she showed us to a room.


She knew us. She remembered our story. She looked at Elijah and said, "Oh…is this your healthy one? Oh I'm sorry…"


We don't have an answer, at least not yet, to Elijah's problem. Sometimes he has blood in his urine, sometimes he doesn't. We have another follow-up appointment in February. We don't know why this is happening. But the Creator who knows all things knows why.


And that is enough.


Truthfully I feel like we are under a bacon press. Do you have one? I had to look up the name of it just now, because I didn't even know what it was called. I'm not much of a cook. I'm just a maintenance cook; I cook because I have to. I cook practically and for a big group of people. I don't feel like I'm very good at it…but that's ok. We Lovelace's would rather cook, eat, and move on to the next activity anyway.


So…for me this experience has been like a bacon press. I don't like cooking bacon. It's a messy job. I don't like the grease when it splatters on me or on the stove. I do like my bacon burnt and crispy, though. Our kids don't know any different…they think bacon is supposed to be burnt and crispy.


Several years ago, my mother gave me a bacon press. It pushes down on the bacon and makes it flat and straight. That way the bacon doesn't curl up, leaving parts of bacon fat uncooked. Do you know what I'm talking about?


I feel like all of these trials in our lives right now are like being pressed down flat. God is allowing it. I'm not enjoying it.


As with the bacon, though, the fire of these trials has straightened me out -- I feel totally prostrate and vulnerable before the Father. I belong to Him. I am at His mercy. I am totally trusting Him for what is yet to come.


But I've discovered that, when I'm cooking, if I leave the press on the bacon for the entire time -- left to weigh it down without mercy -- the bacon becomes prematurely cooked. It's hard and brittle, bearing the marks of too-hot flames. The heat has been too much.


But if I don't leave the press on for a sufficient amount of time, then the bacon curls up relentlessly and fails to mature consistently. It remains fatty and tasteless.


So I find myself taking the press on and off of the bacon -- looking for exactly the right reaction from the bacon to the heat. I don't always get it right.


But God always does. God knows more about "cooking" than I do. The press of the trial to my heart is just right. If I absorb the heat correctly, then I am not brittle, nor hardened by what we've been through.


But I do want God to press just enough that I will grow and mature. I don't want to be a fatty believer -- tasteless to the world and to the Father. I want Him to be pleased with me after the fire.


Whenever that will be. Oh…when will that be?


Are you under the press? What will be the outcome for you?



…Now for a little while you may have had to suffer grief in all kinds of trials.
These have come so that your faith--
of greater worth than gold, which perishes even though refined by fire--
may be proved genuine
may result in praise, glory and honor when Jesus Christ is revealed.
I Peter 1:6-7




But we have this treasure in jars of clay to show that this all-surpassing power
is from God and not from us.
We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed;
perplexed, but not in despair;
persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed.
We always carry around in our body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be
revealed in our body.
II Corinthians 4:7-10



Copyright © 2012. Faith Matters by Lygia Lovelace. All rights reserved. KenLovelaceMinistries.com

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