As I have been typing out my prayer tonight- which I haven’t done in a while- I realize that most of what made me who I am has been stripped away.
I live in a bed, basically. I’m not really able to go and do with my kids like I used to, which I loved. I’m not much able to get out and lunch with friends, which I used to enjoy. I don’t wake up at 4am and have my quiet time with the Lord anymore. I’m lucky if I even have it at all, because most of the time I don’t, it seems. I certainly have the time on my hands! I am just not plugged into the power source, as my pastor put it during one of his messages. I have tried to get back into good habits and for whatever reason, it ain’t happening for me. Maybe it’s my fault, I really don’t know.
Furthermore, no one wants to hear my whining and complaining. So while I’d like to complain 24/7, I try to stuff as much as possible. Sometimes, much to my dismay, it comes out.
I don’t want to be ungrateful. I mean, I’m still alive, still breathing. My kids are healthy. I do have a husband willing to work while I can’t. We have food on the table and the bills get paid, although discretionary (fun) money is scarce. We are certainly getting by, which is more than I can say for a lot of people I know. Furthermore, I have friends in way worse shape. I just hate to see anyone going through this stuff, even though the Bible says to rejoice in trials. I know this trial is making me- making me a new person. But man, is it ever painful, in every way. It is exhausting.
I used to be a nurse. While I wasn’t the best nurse in the land, I loved serving people and helping make their lives a little better in some way. That part of my identity has left the building, also. Heck, I need a nurse myself probably. Now my nursing is done behind a computer screen and on a phone. I find this ironic and comical, as much as the Lord knows I hate talking on the phone. But, the ability to work the way I do is a huge blessing.
I can’t clean my house. I can barely get dinner made. I live vicariously through people on TV.
I can’t always make it to church. If I do get there, I can’t wait to leave- simply because I’m in pain and I want to be home.
I can’t drive or sometimes even ride long distances anymore. Something about being in motion in the car makes me miserable. So that greatly limits my visiting the area I was from. I have to keep in touch with everyone via social media.
There’s a whole lotta can’ts in my life right now.
What CAN I do?
I can blurt out little prayers to the Lord on behalf of my family and friends. I can usually make dinner- maybe 4 nights out of 7. I can mail doo dads to one of my special friends (well, I can put the stuff in an envelope and my son will usually mail things for me). I can encourage my kids to lay with me and I can rub their backs and play with their hair. I can joke and enjoy their company and laugh. I can work my telephone triage job for brief intervals and for the most part enjoy it and feel useful. I can read encouraging Christian blog posts. I can comment on my friends’ posts and let them know how I feel about them. I can text people and do the same. I can manage our finances and make meal plans for a few days at a time. I can fold a load of laundry and put it away. I can’t do all these things every day, but I can do them sometimes. And I’m gonna try to figure out what else I can do.
So, Lord, in obedience I come to you, and I thank you for what I CAN do. I also thank you for this trial, in obedience to your Word. Although it is a literal pain, I thank you for the good things that have come from it and I do know that you work things out for my good and your glory. I thank you for your patience with me as I navigate these unchartered waters. I thank you that as I sink, you are there to pull me up. Thank you that I have friends who care about me and check in on me.
Why did I type this out? To get it out of my system, so I can start tomorrow fresh and new hopefully. Why did I post it, you may ask. Because I know someone somewhere out there feels the way I do. They have lost their “me”. And I want them to know they aren’t alone. This is my only floor, my only podium, my only voice. I’m not interested in pity, I loathe pity! I am just trying to figure me out. Trying to make sense of what’s going on. Something we all need to do for ourselves.
Thanks for hearing me as I journey.