One Step Forward...

The Pity of It All

My sister, Jane, and I have been in competition this holiday season to see who is the most pitiful.

Not really, but it kind of feels that way. I’ve been trying to shake off a virus – not COVID, so don’t feel too sorry for me – but it did evolve into a bacterial infection. Jane’s been fighting her own good fight not to catch it from me. We’ve both been wiping down surfaces to an extent that would put the OCD detective Adrian Monk to shame.

Below is a photograph of me (cue the canned laughter) wearing a mashed potato poultice. Note the festive tea towel girding my neck. I know it looks silly, but the internet claims it reverses laryngitis – hey, if it’s on the internet… Listen, you scoffers, it worked for the Brady Bunch mom 50 odd years ago! Remember how Mrs. Brady was able to trill “O Come All Ye Faithful” at church on Christmas morning after being voiceless the week before? If it’s good enough for Carol Brady…

My sister, for her part, has been having adventures of her own. That’s her code word for annoying problems of varying degrees. Jane’s adventures have included issues with a rental car (the management, of course, is nowhere to be found); tearing the house apart to locate misplaced items (a problem solved by divine intervention which I’ll relate below); and most recently, being beset by phone problems. Tell me something. If smart phones are so smart, how come they can’t untangle the messes they seem so bent on falling into?

Here’s a snippet of some of our escapades over the holidays:

Thea: Laryngitis starts to abate; cough picks up where froggy throat left off.

Jane: Missing keys are located; cell phone service goes on vacation.

Hence, the title of this article – one step forward, two steps back.

I think it’s fair to say all this drama has left us both a little depressed. Jane’s idea of a Norman Rockwell Christmas probably didn’t include quarantining while her sister took YET ANOTHER COVID test (I’m about ready to make home test kits a budget item). My holiday wish list didn’t feature YET ANOTHER round of masks, gloves and, oh, of course, tension taming tea.

What’s most difficult for me is being out of step with my normal routine and unable to fulfill responsibilities. I missed work, opportunities to be with friends and family (those who are fortunate enough not to be sharing quarters with me, that is – Jane and I had ample time to bond over my vaporizer), and even holiday preparation. Every Christmas I threaten not to send cards, and every year I send a ton of them. This is the first time it’s ever really not happened. I make it a point not to infect recipients just in time for the new year.

Discouragement, too, has been dogging my heels. Doctor visits, after all, were never meant to be a source of entertainment, any more than antibiotics were intended to be soups du jour. My problem has gotten to be a predictable one, something I can count on at least once a year, and that fact alone is disheartening. Like a gentle breeze that gives way to a hurricane, it starts out tickling my throat and can end up in a hospital visit if I don’t get right on it.

Which reminds me – I wrote about this same subject a few years ago. A work injury necessitated a trip to the ER, causing me to feel vulnerable and uncomfortable. I traced the source of my discomfort to the “P” word – good old pride. I guess some things never change.

And, Yet…

Sitting in my doctor’s office for the second time in one week, I realized it was time to get back to basics. Stationing myself in a remote corner to avoid alarming patients who were only there to get allergy shots, I took out a scrap of paper and began scribbling a gratitude list. Here’s some of the good stuff I came up with:

1)     My doctor and I have a plan to further diagnose and treat the underlying cause of the regular parties the germ brigade seems to be throwing in my respiratory system. I’ll be seeing another specialist and hopefully getting some answers. How many end stage cancer patients would kill for such glimmers of hope!

2)      I have the best family and friends anyone could wish for. My little fairy godmother down the street, about whom I’ve written before, offers me homemade applesauce just when I’ve run out of the one thing my ailing throat doesn’t complain about. Family members do favors, run errands, make meals, and generally pamper me. My best friend and prayer partner steps into the gap, leading our prayer group and teaching Bible study in my stead.

3)      My employer, too, is among my blessings, coming through with paid sick leave and allowing me to leave early to manage my sick, sorry self.

4)      I’ve found ways to be of service even while down and out. A disabled friend of mine taught me that it’s important to serve in whatever ways one can. Everyone has something to offer, and our great God expects His children to make use of whatever He has given them. Let us remember, “For everyone to whom much is given, from him much will be required; and to whom much has been committed, of him they will ask the more” (Luke 12:48). No one is without something to give, even if it is just time or a listening ear. If even those things are impossible, the greatest gift we can give to one another is prayer.

 Not least, these niggling troubles have actually been growth opportunities in disguise. Take, for instance, Jane’s missing key ring, to which I alluded above. Among them was one that powers her rental car. The loss left her housebound and on the hook with the rental company.

Jane and I (mostly Jane) scoured the house, praying as we did so. Not being ones who pray to saints, we skipped over Saint Anthony and took our concerns right to the Lord God Almighty. After going to bed (and between coughing jags), I decided to get up and hunt through our dirty laundry pile. I plunged right into the germy mess and rummaged around. I could have saved myself the trouble, as I later learned Jane had donned gloves (clever girl) and done the same thing.

We both came up empty.

By this time, we had turned over couch cushions (what a crumby mess lay underneath that floral upholstery), rifled through coat pockets, upended trash receptacles – you name it.

I, for one, was out of ideas. Desperate to help the sister who had been tenderly tending me all week, I resumed my conversation with God.

“Lord,” I whined, “neither one of us knows where those keys are. You know they represent mobility and freedom to Jane. She needs them. Could you please show one of us where to look?”

Like a flash, it came to me. The day before, my neighbor had posted on our neighborhood Facebook page a picture of a set of keys she had found. Why hadn’t I thought of that before?

We darted across the street and retrieved the errant keys, giving glory to the One who patiently waits for us to exhaust our own resources and throw the whole matter into His lap. Second Corinthians 12:9 comes to mind:

“And He said to me, ‘My grace is sufficient for you, for My strength is made perfect in weakness.’ Therefore, most gladly I will rather boast in my infirmities, that the power of Christ may rest upon me.”

Vulnerability and Humility: Archenemies of Pride

I recently took a continuing ed class in which the speaker asserted that courage demands vulnerability. This gave me a lot to ponder, and I decided she was right, as courageous acts leave one vulnerable to defeat and all that goes with it. I would add that vulnerability is also required when one finds oneself dependent on others for that which one is used to doing for oneself. The dependence which arises from being ill or needing help of any kind vastly increases humility on the part of the recipient.

That, my faithful readers, is why I so dislike being sick. I much prefer to do for others and take care of myself. Oh, I don’t mind asking my sons to move a heavy piece of furniture or help me unravel a technology snafu – things like that exceed my capabilities, and I know it. But part of my self-esteem rests on being able to take care of my daily needs and follow through on commitments.

It doesn’t take a brain surgeon to realize God wants me to work on that.

One thing that helps is recalling the vulnerability with which the Son of God came into the world. He put Himself into the most helpless position imaginable, stepping down from deity and into humanity, with all the diaper changing and nose wiping the human condition entails.

I’ve noticed there seems to be a giving and receiving continuum. Some only want to give, refusing help of any kind; others are happy to simply take, without ever giving back. Both states are unbalanced, like a seesaw weighed down on one end. Finding a middle ground seems the most spiritual way. If God incarnate allowed Himself to be needy, even as He came to serve, it seems the height of arrogance for His creatures to err on one side or the other.

Bottom line: we are going to go through periods in which we seem to be stagnating. Illness, tangled business matters, sticky family relationships – all are things which require time and careful attention, and may, in fact, never fully resolve. No amount of whining or petulance will change the fact that some sloughs just have to be slogged through. Shortcuts are lovely when available, but our wise God sometimes allows roadblocks into our lives for a reason.

Sometimes the only way to go is through.

“Not that I speak in regard to need, for I have learned in whatever state I am, to be content: I know how to be abased, and I know how to abound. Everywhere and in all things I have learned both to be full and to be hungry, both to abound and to suffer need. I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.” – Philippians 4:11-13

Check out part 2 of this piece, "Two Steps Back"!