Why are gifts so hard to accept?
Being in the hospital left me incredibly blessed as I was held in love by my friends and family. I laughed and tried to be as witty as possible. Mostly because I like to be witty, but also because then you wouldn't say that haunting sentence that I was already dodging.
I am lucky to be alive.
Right? That's what you wanted to tell me, isn't it? That's the whisper I heard at night when tears slipped onto my pillow. That's the shadow that I am boxing today.
Yes, the doctors confirmed that those blood clots could have done much worse, if I had been older, if my heart wasn't as healthy. And now I get to take shots in my bruised and tender belly until the pills make my blood "thin" enough. I still get short of breath walking up steps, challenging myself. I have to be more careful of what I do to and put in my body. Every time a pup jumps on me or I hit my arm, I startle about bruising. I think hard before I eat, how each bite may slow my progress with blood work.
And in addition to those things, I feel guilty that I am struggling today.
I hate that I am whiny and tearful. I hate that fear, mostly the fear of what could have happened and the fear of what will inevitably happen one day, have crept into my today. I should be grateful, and I am. I should be faithful, and I think that I am. But I am overwhelmed. Like in the "what the heck happened to my other life" and "I want that other girl's reality back" sort of way.
It isn't that I am afraid to die. I feel confident that it will be just fine. Somehow it is the new knowledge of how fragile and finite this life of mine is that troubles me. I wonder if I have contributed anything useful or if I have just been sucking air. I wonder what matters. Tears fall more easily. I just don't know. And I don't know how to resolve it.
I can't make the numbers of my blood work move the right way. I can't make the clots dissolve faster. I can't go back to who I was. And I can't figure out how to be okay with where I am now.
Never has God asked me to lie to him. Never. In fact there have been moments that I have tried to be pious and ended up fake and he was far from me. But I can yell and scream at him and he holds me as I flail.
So, I won't pull punches with him, or you. That's one of the reasons that I started this blog. Grace, this crazy gift, was difficult for me to accept. And now I have more challenges, new graces, that are no easier it seems despite how long I hang with the Big Guy.
No matter what changes, this is what I know for now...I am still living in my grace-period, by grace, period. Amen.