Chris Maxwell's Newsletter

- Do you want to help an Epilepsy Group? If you purchase a copy of Chris Maxwell's book, Changing My Mind, a portion of the proceeds will go to the Epilepsy Support Group in North Carolina. Email Chris and let him know. He'll send a donation to his friends in NC. Thanks so much. Too many people ignore the needs of those living with epilepsy.

- This Another Day continues the introduction from Chris Maxwell's book Changing My Mind. Written about his illness in March 1996, the book includes a variety of stories about life's disappointments. To help celebrate the 14th anniversary of Chris surviving that experience, pick up the book from Amazon from a link on his website.

www.chrismaxwellweb.com


Another Day Along the Way
Sunday, March 28, 2010

Another day,
Life, this strange mystery of joy and sorrow, includes disappointments. As my mind changed, as my life changed, as I now adjust and adapt, I'm often wondering what is out there and what is in here. On these pages, I hope we can all gather a better glance toward real life even during our journey in mystery.

My mind forgets names but remembers song lyrics and poetic stories. So each chapter in this book borrows a song's title. All of them remind me of seasons in life and of the scenes I still remember. Bruce Cockburn's tune "Wondering Where the Lions Are" took me on a tour many years ago. I started noticing the ignored, observing the forgotten, dreaming of the large. I also realized came to know that life really is a mystery.

Or so I thought. But now, in my unwanted exploration, I know better about life's mysteries. I know more about surviving each day. My mind helps my spiritual heart. Lyrics I hear can tell me more about lions, dreams, desires, waves, togetherness, eternity, wandering, and wondering. I can mentally digest words and determine what really has a hold on us. So can you.

In his book The Night-Side, Floyd Skloot defines a purpose for his words. Notice Skloot's honesty: "This book is a meditation forwards and backwards over the losses and gains that accompany long-term illness. Some of its pieces follow one another like chapters in a novel, others connect more associatively, like poems in a collection. It is finally an account of change and, I think, growth."[1] These pages flow in a similar current.

Change. Growth. Words we often use but rarely merge. Especially when change equals pain, sadness, grief, hurt and an ongoing adjustment to life. We all relate. We experience changes unique to us - our own, private changes. Changes noticed by others and changes ignored as long as possible by ourselves. Changes that finally, when allowed, bring growth - spiritual and relational growth, growth in thinking of others as we learn from ourselves, growth through the shrinking of ourselves.

In his book, The Thorn in the Flesh, R. T. Kendall writes, "Know that God has allowed this for a purpose. Accept it...as being from a loving God. Then come to terms with it. Don't pretend it's not there. Admit that it probably won't go away - at least, not for a while. God could remove it, yes, just like that! But, apart from divine intervention, come to terms with the likely fact that it is there to stay."[2]

This book collects my confessions about the growth pains and gains resulting from permanent brain damage. As you read it, write your own version. Confess your own changes, your own growth.

Whatever your condition, join the journey. Enter the experience. Be aware of reality. As you critique and confess and compare, here is the dare. Stare at me and my life to see where you are. Think of receiving help from others, of giving more when there is nothing there to give, of living. Really living.

This book is my effort to come to terms with life, with change, with a me I never expected to become. To come to terms with a me who forgets, who struggles, who doubts. I offer my own honest recovery, and I ask, What is this sad season of your life teaching you? How can your weakness make you strong?

I don't know all the answers. But my knowing so much about remembering less might help you know and do and be made new. I pray this account of thinking and changing brings growth.

Even while we're wondering where the lions are.

Along the way,
Chris Maxwell

Powerful Statement: So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen. For what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal. (2 Corinthians 4:18, NIV)

(Chris Maxwell, Changing My Mind: A Journey of Disability and Joy, 2005, LifeSprings Resources)

[1] Floyd Skloot, The Night-Side: The Chronic Fatigue Syndrome and the Illness Experience, Story Line Press, 1996, p. xiv33
[2] R. T. Kendall, The Thorn in the Flesh, Charisma House, 2004, p. 87

Introduction to Changing My Mind

Another Day Along the Way
Saturday, March 20, 2010

Another day,
Most people occasionally forget a name. Spell-check and memos come in handy for us all. An appointment missed or a birthday forgotten: stuff happens. Parents stare at one child, calling him or her the name of a sibling. Singers miss words of the national anthem, or ruin Wrigley Field's seventh-inning stretch while trying to lead the fans in "Take Me Out to the Ball Game."

You've done it, haven't you? Ordered the wrong meal, taken the wrong turn, called the wrong number?

We label those errors common mistakes. Those of us who are perfectionistic control freaks condemn ourselves until we silence the self-talk. When such mistakes occur habitually we think we're just getting old. But if blunders suddenly invade us and become the norm; if a husband knows his wife one day and doesn't the next; if a few formerly common words refuse to journey from mind to mouth; if we become a person we never hoped to be, what happens then?

I know a lot about what happens. It is still happening to me.

On these pages, I open my journal to reveal my damaged brain.

As you inspect, as you stare, as you observe, feel free to laugh at me. Cry or critique my method of survival. Think, though. Work your own mind as you glance at mine. Evaluate, calculate, assess, confess.

How do you usually respond when painful changes swirl your way? What if my journey had been yours or your spouse's? Your parent's or your pastor's? Your child's or your hero's? The President's or the homeless man's? When you are challenged by an addiction, an illness, a terrible decision - things change, don't they?

Maybe you've read about miracles but asked why your Goliath didn't go down after your best stone throw. Maybe you've prayed with faith but every day the mirror's glass exposes a face and a life staring back, untouched by high hopes. Maybe the sea didn't separate fully when you ran from your foes.

Now what?

Maybe you're saying, "Chris, I didn't lose my mind. I lost my child." Or, "I lost my spouse," or, "I lost my left leg in the war and no one cares," or, "I've got an appointment with the doctor tomorrow and I'm very afraid," or, "I've made so many stupid decisions, I think I've lost myself."

Now what?

Along the way,
Chris Maxwell

(Chris Maxwell, Changing My Mind: A Journey of Disability and Joy, LifeSprings Resources, 2005)

Powerful Statement: So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen. For what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal. (2 Corinthians 4:18, NIV)


- This Another Day is from Chris Maxwell's book Changing My Mind. Written about his illness in March 1996, the book includes a variety of stories about life's disappointments. To help celebrate the 14th anniversary of Chris surviving that experience, pick up the book from Amazon. You can go to a link on his website.
www.chrismaxwellweb.com

Another Day Along the Way
Sunday, March 14, 2010

Another day,
A few years ago a pastor told me his disappointing story. His congregation had not accepted the new man an illness forced him to become. No caring. No true compassion. His lack of faith had caused it all, they assumed. Maybe, some thought, a hidden sin should be blamed for his illness.

He changed careers and later asked me, "How did your church walk with you through your struggle?"

I'm not sure how I answered because I'm not sure how they did it. But I'm sure of this: Church should be a family affair, not a war zone or a power struggle. A family of unique but related team players who do what is best for one another and for the building of His Kingdom. Isn't that it? Isn't that what Jesus expects of His body?

For better and for worse. When rich or when poor. In sickness and in health. Until death shall part us. Debbie had stated similar vows when we were married. My boys hadn't voiced such phrases, but their commitment was expected. They lived out unspoken vows, even during the worse and poor and sickness seasons.

Some in our congregation couldn't take it. They left when we needed them the most. But I can't be angry. I could hardly take it myself.

How shall God show His love? Would He choose to take sinful, selfish people and buy them for His own? Would He then decide to allow them to display His love by caring for one another?

It doesn't sound like a successful tactic for taking over the world, but it is God's plan. Placing messed-up people all together and telling them to love one another; telling the healthy to love the sick; informing the happy to hold the sad; instructing the wealthy to support the poor-what a strange strategy!

I don't think God would get elected for office.

Along the way,
Chris Maxwell

Powerful Statement: People in need of people. That is how God works. A collection of people. A family at home, a family so large, a spiritual family. (Chris Maxwell, Changing My Mind: A Journey of Disability and Joy, 2005, LifeSprings Resources)

- This Another Day is from Chris Maxwell's book Changing My Mind. Written about the illness he experienced in March 1996, the book includes a variety of stories about life's disappointments. To help celebrate the 14th anniversary of Chris surviving that battle, pick up the book from a link on his website:
www.chrismaxwellweb.com

Another Day Along the Way
Saturday, March 6, 2010

Another day,
14 years.

The baby boy's mother held him at breakfast yesterday as I watched and ate and wrote. The boy stared toward his father, toward the morning sunshine, toward a hotel's screen, almost smiling in a world he hardly knew. He wouldn't understand the number fourteen or the word years. His parents have little ideas of what will occur in their next 14 years together. The milk in the bottle and the baby seat will be gone. What will arrive? Teen energy and personal opinions, ball games and girlfriends, tests at school and tests in life.

14 years.

14 years of marriage? 14 years at a job? 14 years in a home? 14 years since a poor decision, a new commitment, a wise choice, a report from the doctor? 14 years of waiting for a prayer to be answered or a dream to be fulfilled? 14 years of refusing to forgive?

When we were 14 years old there were some days when 14 minutes lasted for days, weeks. Now? 14 months rush past in 14 seconds.

Today is the 14th anniversary of a surprise. March 6, 1996, encephalitis visited my body, my brain, my life. I've talked about and written about the event and the long term effect. Issues of memory, of change, of epilepsy.

What is your story? What decisions 14 years or 14 days ago are affecting the present? What choices and commitments can you make today that will bring new hope to you and others 14 months from now?

My brain damage caused memory loss. For us all, maybe today we need to finally forget something from 14 months ago. For us all, a proper loss of some memory can heal, forgive, release.

Our aging and changing, our years of pain and pleasure, our joy and sorrow, our strength and our weakness: think of 14 experiences of healing, 14 dreams of the future, 14 reasons to celebrate. And, if you think or feel nothing positive at all, can you pause for 14 seconds and rejoice by choice?

Let this March be a month of recovery and appreciation. Let this March be a month to remember for reasons of renewal. Let this March be a season of motivation to change our minds and choose to think better, live better, and become free. 14 years and months and days are waiting. Let us walk into them in the march of anticipation.

14 years.

Along the way,
Chris Maxwell

Practical Suggestion: Take time to smile someone's pain away. Pray, believing God's mercy and help can flow through you to them.
(Chris Maxwell, Changing My Mind: A Journey of Disability and Joy)