And Yet... Thoughts on Holiday Pain

I remember hearing a missionary give a talk years ago. Addressing the matter of God’s provision, this seasoned servant quipped that, in his experience, God is never late but He’s rarely early.

Also embedded in my memory is this observation from a minister whose church I attended when I was very young in my faith. This gentleman, whose name was David, commented that he often noticed the Almighty “singling him out,” as it were – in a good way. He would come across a passage of Scripture or hear something from the pulpit that seemed to be a “Dear David” message. A piece of wisdom or advice that zeroed right in on whatever he was struggling with or working on in his life.

I’m finding the insights of these two leaders quite relevant during what has turned out to be a very bittersweet holiday season. Don’t misunderstand – I’ve lived through downright depressing, even miserable Christmases. Other people’s choices and acts of God find their harsh way into our lives, despite what our culture tells us to expect during a given time frame:

“Christmas means lights and laughter! Valentine’s Day means hearts and happiness! There’s something really wrong with you if you’re not loving life at this moment!”

As though death, demons, and destruction are any respecters of calendars.

Christmas 2025 finds me straddling the line between joy and pain as I grieve with a dear friend who is presently suffering an unimaginable loss. Others around me are coping with similar sorrows. And, folks, have you looked at the news lately? It’s enough to send the jolliest elf right into a full-blown tailspin.

And yet…

“My heart is overflowing with a good theme; I recite my composition concerning the King; My tongue is the pen of a ready writer.” – Psalm 45:1

“Be still, and know that I am God; I will be exalted among the nations, I will be exalted in the earth!” – Psalm 46:10

“He who did not spare His own Son, but delivered Him up for us all, how shall He not with Him also freely give us all things?” – Romans 8:32

Why these verses?

They’re my “Dear Thea” messages from a Mind and Heart which know exactly what my mind and heart are wrestling with. All three of these Scripture gems showed up in my own personal world MORE THAN ONCE in the past week.

Psalm 45:1:

Write, Thea. I’ve given you a voice and the tools to get it out there. Use them when and how I tell you to.

Psalm 46:10:

Thea, I’ve GOT you and everyone and everything around you, despite how things may look. Trust me, like the song says, and rest in my plan, even when it seems ridiculous to do so.

Romans 8:32:

Thea, if I gave up that which was most precious to me for your benefit, I’m certainly not going to skimp on anything else.

I want and need to be held this Christmas, because I’m trying to hold up my fellow man. I know I’m no Atlas, and I’m not trying to be. But how can a person not offer a hand when one of her companions is in danger of sinking?

And yet…

The Lord makes certain promises about how much reign He will let grief have in our lives.

I’m holding Him to those promises.

So, I’m doing each next right thing I know to do. Since tomorrow is the arbitrary deadline we silly humans have set for ourselves to celebrate the immortal becoming mortal for a few decades, I’m going to take care of some ritual essentials. I’ll finish wrapping my packages. I’ll whip up some holiday recipes. Etc., etc., etc.

But I REFUSE to let said rituals destroy my communion with the One we’re supposed to be celebrating. And I REFUSE to endlessly seek some heartwarming feeling that always eludes and always promises more than it can deliver.

Because the Delivery has been made. It arrived 2,000 years ago in a stable. And it mattered – and matters – more than any Hallmark memory or Amazon drop-off ever could.

Our Savior foresaw the ambivalence we would feel at the holidays and all throughout our lives. He knew expectations would go unmet and joy would be tempered with pain. He felt that tension in His own heart while preparing to give His life for our traitorous race.

And yet…

If the trials I’m facing – and those I’m walking through with people I love – are the chisels that render me more like the Savior I strive to emulate, then I will try to yield to the pain without numbing myself. I’ll keep looking for “Dear Thea” love notes wherever He chooses to drop them. And I’ll keep reminding myself that His mercies will always be right on time.

God bless us, everyone.

 

Crookedness

"Consider the work of God: who can make straight what He has made crooked? 

In the day of prosperity be joyful, and in the day of adversity consider: 

God has made the one as well as the other..."

Ecclesiastes 7:13-14

My life of late has been full of adventures.

In my last post, I related how I had to be rescued after accidentally locking myself out of the car. Subsequently, I misplaced a small amount of money which had been entrusted to me to buy gifts for some elderly friends. Embarrassed, I decided to replace the funds, but also felt the need to confess my carelessness to the giver.

Just as I was in the process of admitting my mistake, I rummaged around one more time in the drawer I recalled placing the money in. Voila! There lay the cash, in the same spot I had scoured several times already.

On the heels of the money mishap, my bedroom air conditioner went on the fritz. The misbehaving unit managed to limp along for several days while a new one meandered its way through the mail system, but it let me know it wasn't happy by alternately emitting sounds mimicking machine gun fire and an all-out death rattle.

What do lockouts, misplaced money and dying appliances have in common? They're all "crooked" areas of life. Stuff that doesn't go right or perform as expected. Equipment, events and relationships go amiss because we live in a fallen world. It stands to reason that things will break down in such a flawed system; what's less obvious is how to navigate the crooked, broken paths we're often forced to tread. 

I propose that prayer, surrender and SOMETIMES action are key to straightening out life's messes. Prayer is paramount before, during and after life throws us curve balls. Somewhere I heard the assertion that believers are always dealing with a trial, about to face a trial, or just coming out of one. That being the case, prayer would seem the sensible course before, during and after trouble strikes.

Prayer may or may not lead to action. To coin another phrase (this one from Al Anon), "Don't just do something; sit there!" There are times to just "be still and know that [He is] God" (Psalm 46:10). While it's true that misguided action can lead to downfall, it's equally true that ill-advised inaction is nothing short of stagnation. Just as stagnant water is unhealthy, so stasis in the midst of solvable problems can be deadly. God won't bless His children when they let fear or lethargy immobilize them in a swamp of avoidance instead of climbing out at His command.  

Take my air conditioner problem. The only thing standing between me and a cool, comfortable bedroom was the almighty dollar. What my reader may not know is that parting with money for me can be a bit like severing a toe: it hurts a lot and tends to throw me off balance. Fortunately, our great God knows me well and anticipated the tug-of-war I would have with my bank account. He saw fit to provide another believer with a decent sized gift card to Home Depot, which she generously gifted to yours truly, on the very day my AC started gasping and wheezing.

It's worth noting that the business of ordering the new unit took place on a day that was approaching 100 degrees. The following days while I awaited delivery were substantially cooler, enabling me to remain in my room (which, rightly or wrongly, doubles as my office) without suffocating. Furthermore, the eagerly anticipated window unit arrived much earlier than promised and is now installed (thanks to my dear son, Ethan), making my work area a haven of delight. 

Only the Lord...  

As if that weren't enough, He really poured on the blessings in terms of saving money (scan back a few paragraphs, where I describe the battle of wills between me and my wallet). Between the gift card, price matching and a coupon, I managed to knock a big chunk off the retail price. I felt like God was rewarding me for not agonizing over the purchase, but at the same time, seeking the best deal possible. Good stewardship meets letting go!

My other "high finance" situation, the case of the misplaced money for the elderly, similarly required action. I had to do my part of giving over the situation to the Lord, AND be willing to make good, AND be willing to 'fess up to it BEFORE God would make straight that which I had made crooked. By the way, ironically, the giver of the Home Depot card was the same person who provided the money for our older friends. Clearly, this is not someone for whom forking over cash is like losing an appendage. I could learn a thing or two from this dear saint!

In the previous scenarios, I needed to surrender to the situation and also do something about it. However, surrender is equally crucial when there isn't any real action we can take other than to accept what God hands us. Fighting against unfixable problems just wastes energy that's vital to coping with them - as fruitless and often as painful as Saul's kicking against the goads. 

In summary, our great Shepherd never met a crooked path He couldn't straighten - but His sheep often seek out many alternate routes before settling into His best for us.

May that not be said of this sheep!

Deliverance, Part 3

A friend called early this morning asking for unceasing prayer. Her world had been badly upset by human error, and she was dreading the outcome.

Together we prayed with a group of like-minded ladies, who rise early every Tuesday to lift the world and its troubles up to heaven before starting the business of the day. This was the first time we had joined their conference call to the Almighty, and it settled my friend's heart.

Afterwards, we prayed, just the two of us. The Lord brought to mind many situations in which I could see no escape from dire events ... yet, He had made a way. I particularly recalled an ordeal that lasted the better part of a year. The stress became so great that I begged God to help me hang on and just show up everyday. Just when I was at the end of my own resources, He used the very person who was making my life miserable to release me from the trial!

If I've learned anything in my years as a believer, it's that my Lord and Savior can do "exceedingly abundantly above all we ask or think, according to the power that works in us" (Ephesians 3:20). I'm trusting the God who has walked behind, before and beside me all these years to deliver my friend today.

The same God who calms hearts and steadies knocking knees can stabilize this toppling world we live in... if He chooses. If He sees fit to do otherwise, He can help His children stand firm in the midst of insanity and turmoil.

As a precious saint once declared, "I love order, but I've learned to function in chaos!"

“Therefore do not worry, saying, ‘What shall we eat?’ or ‘What shall we drink?’ or ‘What shall we wear?’ For after all these things the Gentiles seek. For your heavenly Father knows that you need all these things. But seek first the kingdom of God and His righteousness, and all these things shall be added to you. Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about its own things. Sufficient for the day is its own trouble." ~ Matthew 6:31-34

For more like this, check out: Reflections by Thea: Deliverance

Check out Mercy Me's Even If

Crosshairs, AKA, Such a Time as This

Readers, I'm always on the lookout for informative articles which underscore my positions. The Left's War on Free Speech in the April 2017 issue of Hillsdale College's Imprimis provides an in depth analysis of the issue of free speech, and suggestions as to how citizens can defend it. Thought I'd pass it along. 

Crosshairs.

Everyone I know seems to be in them, myself included, for one reason or another. You know what I mean – that feeling of being the bullseye for an omniscient Archer, who means to train and equip the object of His darts for larger battles down the line. Or, on the other hand, the unsettling sense of being target practice for the enemy.

Yes, the arrow bearer may be Friend or foe. Well-meaning well wishers counsel the one under fire to keep his chin up and bear in mind that God’s testing and preparing him for some greater purpose. Voices from another corner sagely suggest Beelzebub’s making the Christian his plaything, trying to thwart almighty ends.

Either way, it’s small comfort.

Many folks I’m connected with are dealing with job stressors. Some desperately need jobs, and can’t find them. Others are dying to change jobs, but feel stuck in their current positions till they find new ones (cue previous concern). Still others have “good” jobs with benefits, but are so overtaxed by their work environment, they’re hankering for retirement.

For some, employment is proceeding uneventfully, but illness has come crashing into their lives with a vengeance. Others mourn for loved ones who are in prison or rushing headlong into disaster through addiction or irresponsibility. Still others wrestle with desires which loom large – longings they feel God implanted in them and promised to fill – which yet linger, unyielding and unmet.

My current assignment in the crosshairs concerns standing for an important issue – something which, if not addressed, has potential to negatively impact innocent people. The details aren’t important for the purposes of this post, but what does matter is that weathering this storm has caused me to reflect on why we’re here as Christians in the first place, and how we should respond when we find ourselves at odds with powers that intimidate us, be they friends and family, employers or even government.

Turn the Other Cheek

That’s one way of responding to attack, and at times it’s the right one. Jesus counseled believers to “turn the other cheek” in certain situations. The commentaries I’ve consulted suggest this response is optimal when a personal slight has occurred – in this case, a slap in the face, which was apparently considered an egregious insult at the time. Seems Jewish law required the offender to pay a fine to the aggrieved after this particular affront. As in so much of His teaching, Jesus was challenging laws  which had been stretched and twisted to suit Pharisaical ends. 

Bottom line: often, turning the other cheek applies to overlooking personal, non-life-threatening insults, not ignoring actions which could have deadly consequences, especially for innocent bystanders.

Develop Thicker Skin

As Christians, we’re going to need it. As a writer with a Christian perspective, I’m going to need it. I’ve written a novel which will rankle supporters of abortion and other camps. It not only defends the cause of the unborn, but also calls into question reproductive options such as surrogate gestation, which in this writer’s mind places childbearing on a par with who’s going to drive the carpool.

There are, I’m painfully coming to realize, only two ways to behave in life, and especially in the Christian life. We can either stand on the sidelines or join in the game.The game, by definition, involves opposition. Whether we're talking Yahtzee with the neighbors or bullfighting in Barcelona, stakes are involved which matter to players. Stakes can be low – such as penny ante poker – or high, such as passing the bar exam. The higher the stakes, the greater the opposition; hence, the closer we need to walk in almighty company.

The Pacifist Argument

I beg to differ with those who suggest Jesus would have been a pacifist. Despite rebuking Peter for pulling out a sword to fend off His arrestors, He very clearly did NOT condemn the use of a weapon, but rather, its use in this specific circumstance, which had been foreordained and to which He willingly submitted.

Jesus was also not suggesting we look the other way when global terror is on the march. One need only peruse the many instances in the Bible where military strength is described and even encouraged (see https://www.gotquestions.org/Jesus-pacifist.html) to realize the Bible allows for national defense.

However, we as Christians must realize when we accept the challenge of speaking out against the prevailing wisdom of the day (for example, taking Biblical positions on subjects like marriage and sexuality), we will likely be ridiculed and perhaps even threatened (see 2 Timothy 4:2). This is nothing new. Truth in the face of prevailing wisdom has always been a scarce commodity, and teachers of “tolerance” often exhibit less of this virtue than those they dub haters. Again, the greater the risk of retaliation, the closer we must cling to the Savior.

Examples of Principles Worth Defending

Realize that, just as Copernicus and Galileo faced repercussions regarding what their studies had proven (that the earth was not, despite centuries old “common sense,” the center of the universe - see http://www.nmspacemuseum.org/halloffame/detail.php?id=123), likewise, truthtellers today will have to confront opposition.

We now have scientific evidence that the earth revolves around the sun, not vice versa. It just took time for researchers to catch up to what God already knew and had revealed to a few trend-bucking scientists. How much more critical that we weigh evidence about life and death issues like abortion?

For example, research is beginning to emerge that preborn children do, in fact, feel pain during the abortion procedure, and not just starting at 20 weeks (see http://www.lifenews.com/2015/05/18/medical-expert-confirms-unborn-children-feel-excruciating-pain-during-abortions/). Consider the following excerpt from former Planned Parenthood director Abby Johnson’s book, Unplanned: The Dramatic True Story of a Former Planned Parenthood Leader’s Eye-Opening Journey Across the Life Line, in which she describes witnessing the abortion of a 13-week-old fetus on ultrasound:

At first, the baby didn’t seem aware of the cannula. It gently probed the baby’s side, and for a quick second I felt relief. Of course, I thought. The fetus doesn’t feel pain. I had reassured countless women of this as I’d been taught by Planned Parenthood. The fetal tissue feels nothing as it is removed. Get a grip, Abby. This is a simple, quick medical procedure. My head was working hard to control my responses, but I couldn’t shake an inner disquiet that was quickly mounting to horror as I watched the screen.

The next movement was the sudden jerk of a tiny foot as the baby started kicking, as if trying to move away from the probing invader. As the cannula pressed in, the baby began struggling to turn and twist away. It seemed clear to me that the fetus could feel the cannula and did not like the feeling (Johnson 5).

This is only one facet of the whole ethical question surrounding personhood of the fetus. The battle may be unpleasant, especially for those like me who aren’t naturally wired for confrontation, but discomfort in no way diminishes the importance of staying the course.

Fight the Good Fight

Why should we think we’ll escape criticism and consequences for being in the minority who contend that the emperor really is, after all, standing stark naked in the public square? If a physics concept like the order of the universe brought down enough wrath on Galileo to force him to recant what he knew to be empirical fact, how can we expect moral principles to be any less controversial and costly?

We live in a time when much is tolerated from a personal freedom standpoint, but somehow there’s little room in the discussion for moral objections. If we’re going to embrace dialogue and tolerance, surely those rights need to extend to everyone. The First Amendment does not roll over and play dead just because the speaker happens to espouse an "old-fashioned" or politically incorrect viewpoint. Let's not forget that the Fairness Doctrine was challenged because it had the potential to muzzle free speech (or at least keep it on a government-held leash), and was rightly repealed. As Christians, we need guard jealously any assaults on public discourse, for where debate is squelched, behavior is sure to follow.

In the Footsteps of Esther

If we have the mind of Christ, clearly that extends to knowing when to rally the troops versus when to shake things off. Nowhere in Scripture are we promised that acting on convictions which society deems unpalatable will be applauded or even tolerated. However, we can muster courage from the words of a little-known Jew named Mordecai, who counseled his trembling cousin, Esther, to speak out against injustice to her people: “Do not think in your heart that you will escape in the king’s palace any more than all the other Jews. For if you remain completely silent at this time, relief and deliverance will arise for the Jews from another place, but you and your father's house will perish. Yet who knows whether you have come to the kingdom for such a time as this?" (Esther 4:13-14). 

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­__________________________________________

Work Cited

Johnson, Abby with Cindy Lambert. Unplanned: The Dramatic True Story of a Former   

    Planned Parenthood Leader’s Eye-Opening Journey Across the Life Line. Carol 

    Stream: Tyndale Momentum, 2010. Print.

Out of the Comfort Zone, Into the Conference (AKA, Deliverance 3)

With apologies (and explanation) to my patient readers, to whom I haven't written since January 1, I offer the following:

The Conference

“This is gonna make a great blog article,” I told my friend Mary by way of apology, after keeping her waiting for the second time the morning we were both set to pitch manuscripts to agents at The Philadelphia Writing Workshop. The first offense was when I took too long in the shower and found her patiently playing with her phone as I combed the tangles out of my hair. The second infraction was when I couldn't locate my car in the motel parking garage (panic button notwithstanding) and had to beg the attendant to help me cruise the lot to find my misplaced vehicle. After a harrowing 20 minutes, I emerged from the depths to find Mary had given up waiting at our designated meeting spot and enlisted a motel attendant to help locate her MIA friend.

Mary and I had taken a room together the night before to avoid doing the last-minute rush thing into the city. A darn good idea, too, as I had more than a little agita just getting into Rittenhouse Square Friday night. I’m not a city girl – never have been – and after my thrill-laced adventure into town, I’m convinced, never will be. Combining two and a half hours of rush hour traffic, pedestrian peccadillos, detours, and GPS systems that disregard one-way streets, let's just say the trip was torturous. 

But I'm starting at the end. In the words of Good Witch Glinda, “It’s always best to begin at the beginning,” so, without further ado…

The Idea

Mary Dolan Flaherty emailed me a “Rah Rah, Let’s Write!” article several months ago, after the two of us had engaged in a complaint fest about the pitfalls most writers encounter while honing their craft. At the bottom of the piece was a link to the aforementioned conference, which we both decided to attend. Hence, the room and giggle sharing Friday night.

Alas, if I thought writing had roadblocks, I quickly determined that preparing for a conference to pitch one’s writing signals the starting gun for the mother of all roadblocks.

The Washer

Taking it chronologically, the delays started with the breakdown of my washing machine shortly after New Years. My son beckoned me urgently one evening after starting up said machine, explaining the thing had harrumphed, danced a few inches across the basement floor, then unceremoniously shut off. This necessitated several calls to the manufacturer to troubleshoot and verify what I already knew – the warranty had expired – but they thought they could fix it. Three hundred plus dollars and a missed day of work later, the deed was done, and Mom’s Laundromat was back in business.

The Computer

Next, my computer started misbehaving. You know the drill – sluggishness, refusal to summon the Internet (I think the newest protocol insists we not capitalize the “i” in that all-important, can’t-live-with-it, can’t-live-without-it technological wonder), etc., etc., etc. Don’t get me wrong: the device was upwards of ten years old, had patiently accepted the keying in of three manuscript overhauls –
in short, didn’t owe me anything. But why now!

Despite my objections, and not a few consults and troubleshooting visits from my long-suffering, computer savvy friend, Eileen, the diagnosis proved fatal, necessitating research, complaining, shopping trips, more complaining, and finally, a brand-spanking-new computer. I bragged proudly to Eileen after successfully transferring all my files from the old machine onto an external hard drive, which took a couple of hours away from my writing endeavors, but all to the good, right? Wrong. Turned out the external drive had gone the way of the old computer, and none of my files was retrievable. Cue Eileen, who made yet another emergency trip to my doorstep, only to deliver the unwelcome news that a second file transfer was in order. I grumbled my way through, but at last witnessed the lights of glory in the form of a usable new computer with usable, stored files. Only problem was a new operating system that demanded I learn its machinations before getting any appreciable work done.

The Water Heater… and the Flu

In the midst of all this frolicking, my water heater decided to malfunction. Delightful, hot showers began to wax frigid in the middle of my second chorus of “Sugar Pie, Honey Bunch” – all this in the middle of winter. What to do? The plumber – who had already dropped by to tighten a loose radiator valve (I believe “phlange” is the actual term he spouted after taking two minutes to fix a problem that cost me a whole day of work) – declared a new appliance was probably in order.

All was set for February 20, a holiday from school so I wouldn’t have to inconvenience my employer yet again – but the best laid plans… Nobody told my lungs I had an appointment that day, so instead of welcoming the plumber, I greeted a bad case of flu, which landed me in the emergency room secondary to breathing problems. My bed and I became besties that week, during which time tissues and inhalers got up close and personal with my airways.

Oh, and the water heater installation? Rescheduled, of course.

The Festive and the Not So Festive

The month of March arrived and, with it, new resolve on my part to hunker down with writing and conference prep. There were, however, two or twenty items yet on my to-do list, not least, the birthday celebrations of both my sons and newly adopted, “labor-less daughter” Elise – all within a week of each other! Happy diversions, to be sure, bookended between less pleasant plot twists like satisfying Uncle Sam’s yearly demand for tax computation, completing school financial aid forms, and tending to a nuisance insurance claim. ¡Ay caramba!

I persevered, promising myself that productivity lay just around the corner. What I hadn’t figured on, though, was a ramp up of work stress, including but not limited to an after-school assignment that went from 45 minutes one day a week to three hour sessions three days a week.

Can you see, neglected readers, why I haven't blogged since the first of the year?

The Deliverance

Somewhere amidst all these amusements, the story of Gideon leapt to mind. 

Gideon, the unlikely war hero, whom kept God waiting while he attempted to verify almighty instructions. Gideon, who carried out divine directions under cover of darkness, lest he receive repercussions from flesh and blood, only to find his covert action was anything but. Gideon, who gathered his nerve while enemies gathered around him.

Gideon, who subjected Omnipotence to terrestrial tests. Gideon, whose army God whittled down to 300 trembling men, to whom He assigned the unenviable task of opposing the mighty Midianites and their Amalekite allies.

Gideon, whose woefully inadequate army God likened to a banal loaf of bread. Gideon, who carried off the bluff of the century with trumpets and torches, resulting in the overthrow of aforementioned enemies.

Gideon, whose victory with ragtag resources gave this author hope of success despite seemingly insurmountable obstacles.

The Outcome

Turned out many of the setbacks I experienced over this past season were actually gifts. Waiting for repairmen and for illness to subside afforded huge blocks of largely uninterrupted time. Time to tweak my manuscript and assemble materials for agent review (never mind that none of said materials ended up being examined by said agents). In addition, I found I work better under pressure than I once thought, managing to pack three months of preparation into three weekends. 

The surprise ending? I didn't hate the process! Rather, I found myself enjoying my characters and story arc, reveling in newfound enthusiasm in the midst of a third rewrite! 

The best part? Two of the three agents I pitched requested a book synopsis and sample chapters! 

Deliverance. Seemed Easter was a fitting day to expound on that theme.

[Jesus] said, "The things which are impossible with men 

are possible with God!" Luke 18:27

For more like this, check out: Reflections by Thea: Deliverance

Reflections by Thea: Deliverance Part 2, AKA, Jurassic Park Revisited

Reflections by Thea: God Rather Than Men

Agony and Torture

These are the nicknames my nephews dreamed up for two kids their mother babysat when they were young. She ran a day care of sorts out of her home, which enabled her to earn a pay check while raising her own children.

The boys called the little ones "Agony and Torture" because they whined and argued and disrupted, which is pretty much the definition of preschoolers. Had my nephews possessed a bit more higher order thinking, they might have applied these same labels to themselves, as they were only slightly farther along the maturity continuum than were their mother's charges. Ah, but it's always easier to point the finger at someone else.

Which is what I'm tempted to do lately. I've been feeling a lot of angst over issues I can't control, and as a result, I'm butting into other people's business. I admit it - I'm a control freak, right up there with the title character of the old comic strip, Momma, and it frustrates me when things don't go as planned. That's created a bit of a problem over the past few weeks, as many things, personal and physical, have cropped up to rock my equilibrium.

Literally, as a matter of fact. One of the issues I'm referring to is a nasty case of arthritis and its cousin, bursitis, both of which are making me feel like a little old lady who only drives on Sundays. Several doctor visits and X-rays later, with painkillers on board and physical therapy looming on the horizon, I'm still treading carefully but much improved.

My body, that is.

My head could still use the mental equivalent of chicken soup and Rolaids.

I'm learning something very unpleasant about myself through all this. I'm a vain person.

I always knew I was a little vain. I carefully construct my hair and face in the morning (it takes more time than it used to, and seems to bring fewer results). I choose outfits that enhance what Mom used to call my "blonde coloring" (the blonde has long since given way to Preference by L'Oreal, "because I'm worth it," but the grays keep finding their way through the highlights). I make all this effort in hopes that it will keep acquaintances from noticing my lower body's resemblance to a pear. 

But these strategies fall apart when one's limping forces one to wear sneakers and sensible shoes with formal outfits, thus making one look like the aforementioned Sunday driver.

I was in just enough pain at the pharmacy, when picking up my medicinal Godsend, that I was pricing canes. They have some very pretty ones, and reasonable, too. Except I don't think I could afford the price it would exact on my psyche. Besides, I have a perfectly good "plain Jane" cane that my father used in the last days of his life. I can picture myself now, hobbling along the halls of  the school where I work, clinging for dear life to that silver stick, and praying no seventh grade track hopeful disrupts my gimpy gait.

I'm not feeling it.

I sought solace from my friend, Tina, who has been dealing with similar issues for years. In contrast to my prideful preening, Tina is eminently pragmatic and willingly tossed aside sandals for Oxfords long ago. She also thought nothing of clutching a four-footed cane for a couple of months when her legs were misbehaving.

How does she do it?

I mentioned earlier some personal matters which also have me on my knees (well, they would if I could get down on my knees, but at this point that's just a nice memory). Again, things I didn't ask for and could just as soon do without, thank you very much. Funny thing is, God never asks my permission when He sends trials. He doesn't give me a checklist or a drop down box, either. He sends or allows what He deems right for my character building, and I have very little to say about it.

The phrase that keeps coming to mind is, things may get worse before they get better. I'm not expecting joy and sunshine as the PT teaches my muscles how to, well, muscle through. Neither am I looking forward to an earlier wake up time to fit in exercises I don't want to do (did I mention I don't want to wake up early in the first place?). And fear grips my heart when I think of the unknowns I'm facing, issues I'll leave unspoken for the purposes of blogging, but trust me, they're there. 


So I'm back to counting blessings. I make gratitude lists on scraps of paper when my head starts taking me into dark, dangerous neighborhoods where I ought not go alone. I catch myself riding my one son who still lives at home, and to some extent the one who's off on his own, trying to control what I can instead of accepting things I can't change. I pack up bags of stuff for Purple Heart in an attempt to de-clutter my environment, when what I really want to do is de-clutter my mind. 


It occurs to me that perhaps the old devil, that wily serpent, could be trying to distract me with messes just when I'm on the brink of finishing my novel. In all honesty, he's done a pretty fair job of discouraging me in the midst of what should be a happy and exciting time. Tomorrow I'll be publicly reading a short story I had published in a women's anthology in March. Family and friends are coming to cheer me on, and I have so much to be hopeful about and grateful for. Yet, what I call the "Eeyore Syndrome," AKA, the "Puddleglum Doldrums" --that "Things may be great, but they're not as great as they could be" feeling -- has me in its grip. With the apostle Paul, I lament, "O wretched man that I am! Who will deliver me from this body of death?" He instantly answers his own question: "I thank God—through Jesus Christ our Lord!" (Romans 7:24)

If God could use Paul, despite his former life as a bigot and murderer, I guess he can use me, too.

"In EVERYTHING give THANKS, for this is the will of God 
in Christ Jesus concerning you!" 
1 Thessalonians 5:18

"Be anxious for nothing, but in everything by prayer and supplication with THANKSGIVING let your requests be made known to God; and the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus." Philippians 4:6-7

For more like this, check out:

Reflections by Thea: Counting Blessings and Misusing Prepositions

Reflections by Thea: "Yeah, But..."