Grace-period

Sitting in the office waiting to see my pulmonologist, I began to consider the past several months and what blessings that I have found.   My friends and family have supported me thru fears and tears. I have found gratitude despite having to do hard things, like submit to being a pin cushion. I have weighed and counted costs of my dreams and activities, and sometimes my plans have changed based on those measurements. But the best thing has been growing closer to the God of mystery.  I don't have any answer to why this scary thing happened, other than the world and our bodies are broken. It isn't the answer that I really care about though. What came to mind as I sat in the office looking at pictures of healthy lungs and inhalers is: will I go back to being "normal?" For weeks I simply wanted to be who I was in June-ignorant of the danger within me & fairly carefree. I didn't want the uncertainty and shadow that had crept over my life. As I trudged thru this jou

I am watching TV this morning.  Still sick and a bit lazy.  My throat hurts and when I swallow it feels like I am swallowing a chip whole, that grating, tearing sensation that makes one wince.  Naturally, I don't want to get out of bed.  So I watch TV.  One commercial, which annoys me every time that I see it, is that shingles is the worst pain ever and, gasp, because I have had chicken pox, I have the virus in me already! IS THERE NO HOPE!?!?!?!? Apparently not.  However, I have known quite a few people with "The Shingles" who miraculously, though with some discomfort, continued to lead normal lives.  But certainly, I will be on the look out for painful blisters that occur over night. But those aren't the only things that I need to watch out for: I should be on the look out for procrastination and "Just do it." I should worry about how the weather will interefere with my television programming and not become a dish head. I need to find the secre

I have always considered saints "other" and, in many ways, that would be true, particularly given the understanding that they are holy men and women.  Growing up Catholic, we took the name of a saint to celebrate our confirmation in the church. Churches were named after saints. Books of the Bible were written by saints. On holy days and events such as baptisms, we asked those saints to remind God that we were still here & needed some help. Despite being a young follower of Jesus, I still retained that old understanding of saint.  A friend challenged me on this and the way I saw myself.  I was not a jerk; I made a mistake. I was not an idiot; I was an imperfect human doing the best she could. But I couldn't let myself off that easily. Someone needed to take responsibility, right? (Yes, for those of you who read the book, Jesus did that. Books are always better than the movies. Except The Hobbit.) This reflexive renaming myself based on my actions was certainly based in