Monday, July 15, 2013
Dawn Shows Up
Would I call it an addiction? No. Addiction implies continuing in a behavior despite the negative consequences one incurs. I simply like to have purpose.
But there are moments when life comes to a screeching halt. In one phone conversation with my doctor on Friday, all plans and thoughts dissipated into the foggy cloud of unknown. Well, that is once I actually believed that he wasn't going to say "psych!" Extensive. Blood clots. Both lungs. Hospital. Now. Have someone take you. Now.
At first, I easily surrendered. I trusted God to calmly take control. Frankly, I was both dazed and grateful. Moments of "how did I end up on this side of the bed" were sprinkled with "I could have died." Reassuring others, particularly family, gave me focus. Making alliances through comedy with the medical teams provided me with creative outlets.
And then...well, I didn't know what to do with myself anymore.
Well meaning friends tell me to relax. I try. I painted my toe nails. I tried to watch garbage TV. I tried to lounge. That isn't how I operate, tho. I like puzzles. I like fixing. I like creating. I like being in control. And I am absolutely not in control.
I am not in control of what my body did.
I am not in control of the medicine that I need to take.
I am not in control of those dumb leg warmers that pump when I am in bed.
I am not in control of my sleep schedule.
I am barely in control of a dumb TV that doesn't have the show listed.
I am not in control of the cooking.
I am not in control.
Newsflash: I really am not ever in control. I just have this false reassurance because I can make a few choices. I can choose to eat and live better, but I will still die. I can choose to be healthy, but I will inevitably end up on some medication as I grow older. I can keep all my relationships close, but those individuals will fail me or simply leave my path somewhere on the journey.
I find acceptance of this fact during the day. I remind myself of my gratitude when I walk the halls, when my husband embraces me, when I think about being smothered in puppy love on discharge.
But in the evening, when the lights are low, the stars first begin to appear, so does the sadness.
Hopefully my better educated friends will excuse my potential twisting of Scripture here, but I think about Genesis, how the days did not start when the sun rose, as we would think. The day began in evening, when the sun set. Reminds me that God was before everything and everyone, before the beginning. He was in control then. He knew the darkness and created the light. I know that this is silly for most of you, but it reassures me that God knows the dark of night and makes the dawn arrive. That while I am in darkness, it will not always be so. My God doesn't dwell only in darkness; He brings the light of each dawn.
I am not good at being still. I am getting better at resting in His stillness, tho. I am getting more comfortable in relying on His strength found in you. It is a bit of a rollercoaster. And it hasn't stopped yet, but I am still riding, grateful for you to be riding it, too.