Wednesday, August 28, 2013

And a little note to my Sponsor

The email today from was about Joni Earickson Tada - I have always loved her writing and her ability to strip herself bare before the LORD and yet still have the courage to share it.  She said some things in this blog that resonated deep in my heart and had me in tears.

"Ken opened wide the front door so I could wheel out to the van.
For a long moment I sat squarely in the door frame, staring and taking it all in:
the shade tree dappling our brick path, blossoms bobbing on the crepe myrtle, and patches of sunlight on dewy grass.
It was the freshest of mornings. Oh God, I breathed, If only I could feel as fresh.
After more than four decades of quadriplegia, I’m tired."

Oh yes, LORD, me too.

After 25 years of battling with both CFIDS and FM, I'm tired.  Do I have to keep fighting??

This is the heart of the matter.

Am I required to keep trying to sustain a body that is so weary - sick of the pain, sick of being forgotten  or negated by AB people, sick of watching those I love flash expressions of impatience and distaste at my infirmities - especially when I have to ask for something to be repeated - again - because I don't understand (and my hearing is going, more each day)  My eyesight is also being attacked by the ravages of diabetes - visions of Helen Keller, anyone?  The evil one knows how to attack us at our most vulnerable spot. 

And does.


So her word today struck chords of response in my heart.  I definitely lack the courage of God - the same courage He gave to David when facing Goliath or Saul, the courage to keep going after he'd been on the run for almost 10 years, running from Saul, living moment to moment depending on God.

Yup, I need that - especially when disability insurance folks think you no longer need any income at 65 years of age.  Instant destitute circumstances swallow you whole.  


Don't you just  love how the Bible throws one in now and again?  And it is always "But God..."

What is mine?

"But God, how do I live this way?  But God, wouldn't it be easier if I just won the lottery (that I'd have to PLAY the lottery to win the lottery is a minor point) ...easier  than this hardscrabble existence of penury (I tend to get melodramatic when I'm scared...)  But God, do I really really hafta do it this way?"

Of course His answer is yes.  He has a reason for every single thing He allows our lives From lions at the Coliseum to the sand in my shoe and the ache in my heart - each one is hand-crafted for what He wants to teach me.  And what is that?

What every single angel has said to every single person whenever one was sent by God -"Do not be afraid."  (I think they've figured out that we are prone to it.)

Because there is always fear behind the weariness.  Fear of what could happen.  Fear that I couldn't handle being sicker.  Fear that I may one day wind up in the same kind of wheelchair Joni is in.

Every plane trip, I've had to get to the plane and get to the car in a wheelchair.  And it makes me wonder how long it will be until I can no longer get out of one.

It's not that I'm suffering so terribly - compared to others, it's nothing.  But each grain of sand in my shoe makes it so much more uncomfortable.  It's not just the fatigue - it's the fatigue and the low grade fever and the lack of energy and the joint pain and the muscle pain and the night sweats and the headaches and the cabin fever and being stuck in bed and never having a break and one foot in front of the other for day after day after day after day after day... you get the idea (I warned you I was melodramatic!)

Blah blah blah standard pity party rhetoric.

Did I add that I'm embarrassed by my lack of strength?  

No.  I wouldn't.  Because I'm embarrassed.

So Ken's solution for Joni with a post-it note of C for Christ's Courage is particularly appealing.   A) it costs me nothing and B) I am struck silent by the fact that it cost Him everything - especially to make it available to me whenever I need it (and my heart is accessible enough and vulnerable enough to admit I need it.)

So here is my statement of being:
Jesus, my King, my Savior, my LORD, my everything, I need You.  More specifically, I need every bit of You: Your strength, Your courage, Your love, Your grace, and especially Your sense of trust and confidence in the Father with which to encourage and comfort others (and a celestial sense of humor to deal with the unattainableness I feel just looking at that list.) And I need it every second of every day. Please keep reminding me of that need. Period.
And I am so very very very grateful that you love me through all of my groaning and sighing and pull me up by my collar when I need it.  You really are a God of lovingkindness, hesed mercy.  Thank you for that mercy!


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