My dad had an upsetting dream while recovering from open heart surgery. By some stroke of a heavenly pen, poor Dad was required to go through the recovery process for multiple patients. His own arduous road to wellness would be multiplied by two, maybe three times. Every therapy session and each needle puncture would be doubled or tripled.
I'm sure he awoke in a cold
sweat.
Thirty plus years later, while
reflecting on Dad's nightmare, I believe this was his mind's way of playing out
what was just too much for him. He undoubtedly felt unable to handle his own
recovery, let alone anyone else's. Perhaps his subconscious was contemplating
the idea of further surgeries and interventions down the line, the thought of
which terrified his overtaxed mind.
At times I feel something akin
to what Dad's dream indicated he was going through. At the beginning of a grueling
week or the outset of a major challenge, the mountain ahead appears
insurmountable. The forward-thinking part of me overtakes the "keep your
mind where your feet are" wisdom I've gained over the years. I want to tackle
the whole thing and be done with it, instead of nibbling one bite at a time; I
choke on the idea of gobbling up the whole problem, and rebel at the idea of
taking even the smallest step to begin. A cycle of fear and panic grips my troubled
heart, and if I don’t let God talk me down off the ledge, paralysis can overwhelm
action.
Dad eschewed his dream and got on
with the taxing business of recovery. He showed up at cardiac rehab and followed
doctors’ orders. He let himself be weak until he gained a bit of strength, and
endured the inevitable setbacks.
In short, he had good days and
bad days.
What he didn’t have to do
was recover for anyone besides himself.
That part of the dream was
fallacious, and he knew it.
I’m sure he had moments when it all
seemed like too much. When hiding at home seemed preferable to trying to make
his uncooperative, post-stroke fingers button a shirt so he could go out and
fight another day.
That’s right. Future recoveries
did await him, as a post-operative stroke further limited his capabilities. But
he continued putting one foot in front of the other, living out the truth of
Matthew 6:34: “Therefore, do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will
worry about its own things. Sufficient for the day is its own trouble.”
He didn’t have to fight all his
battles at once, and neither do I.
What a relief.
