I guess I really started crumbling last night when I fell asleep around 8 pm and woke a bit at 9 and knew that I needed to get up and take my i.v. infusion (I've had viral meningitis and it is taking some antiviral therapy at home to make it go away.). Well, I've been through a lot with it the past 4 weeks and I'm tired of being compliant and waking at 6am to take a dose after having to stay up until 11:30 the night before to wait and flush the i.v. after that dose. I dozed and woke every 15 minutes thinking about it and the people who worked hard to get me the treatment I needed in the first place. I should have just got up and taken the medicine because I probably would have rested better but I was feeling pretty sorry for myself and talked myself out of that one dose.
So after a couple of hours of troubled sleep, this day began around 2 am when I awoke from a HORRIBLE dream. One of those that seems so real and its horribleness lingers with you for hours if not the rest of the day. I tried and tried to go back to sleep but couldn't.
Around 3 am, I realized that I had not in fact, picked up the key to open the church for this morning's Bible study. I also had not arranged for anyone else to open it for me. If this had been the first weekend that I had to call someone else out of bed early on Saturday to help me, I might not have felt as bad as I did. But because this is the 4th time I've had to, I was sick. And of course at 3 am there isn't much to do about it. So instead of peaceful sleep, I pondered at what would happen if no one could open the building. Not exactly resting in God's peace and provision, was I?
I tried to pray, but ended up making a to-do list instead. Also at intervals, squinting my eyes shut and saying, "Please, let me sleep. Please, let me sleep."
So, I get to sleep at about 5:30, about 30 minutes before I need to get up. Well, I talked myself out of a shower. I talked myself out of a good review of the lesson before I go to class. I talked myself out of a bite to eat. I talk myself out of taking this dose of medicine on time. So I roll out of bed at around 7:00. I send out texts, trying to see if anyone is awake. Praying they would answer, "Yes, I've been up for hours. I'm just itching to get out and do something. Is there anything that I could do to help you this morning?" No such thing happened. (Please know that I am the one totally at fault here. I do not blame any minister on our staff for not being up at the crack of dawn to wait on my bidding.)
So after hitting the high spots, throwing on a little rouge, and a sweatshirt and jeans, I make the call to wake the poor servant of the Lord that I chose to pick on. He answered cheerfully, despite my rude awakening and that issue was quickly resolved. I hook up my medicine that is very visible from my pocket to my forearm and mentally berate myself for not getting up to infuse it earlier because now I'll have to wear it all through class. I take 10 minutes to look over our chapter and pray that God is able to use me despite myself especially this morning that I have a bad attitude and am skimping out on my usual preparation.
The class went beautifully. The discussion was great. So for an hour I had peace.
I loaded up and headed home after class, looking forward to a couple of hours in the bed to rest before I needed to go to Ty's ballgame (because, "Yay!", they won their games last night and this morning.) I did get to lay down a bit but not nearly as long as I liked and apparently longer than I should. I was not ready at the time that I should have been to go to the ballgame and that made tensions run a bit high in the house. I rush to finish my toilette and grab my perfume bottle from the cabinet. It slips from my fingers and the mostly full bottle of perfume is broken in two pieces on my tile floor. (I don't get perfume very often and this was a Mother's day present from this year.) Needless to say, I was even more distraught.
I grab the 2 pm dose of med and hook it up, knowing that it won't be infused by the time we get to the game and I'll get to parade my pitifulness again. So then we ride in silence to the ballgame and all the way home. (Ty and his team won the game and so they also won the tournament. That was a good spot in all my crankiness.)
After we get home, as tired as I am, I know I have to go back into town and get some groceries and pick up another prescription. So instead of the rest my body craves, I load up all 4 of the children because Eric didn't feel good and head for Wal-Mart. I am used to shopping there in the mornings during the weekdays and without children so this trip was a bit more stressful than usual. Dinah has only had a 20 minute nap because of the basketball game and isn't going to win any Miss Congeniality awards today, so I was especially nervous. We finally made it through and were loading our things onto the check-out line and I grab the milk and for the second time that day, something slips through my hands and lands on the floor. The gallon, yes, gallon, burst open and quickly gave the floor a milk bath. So I'm standing there, exhausted, in a milky puddle, with the broken container in my hands, dripping in front of what seemed like half the population of Corinth. The check-out woman was new, I believe and took what seemed like several minutes to find the number that she was supposed to press to get someone to come and help clean up.
One of the ladies who came to help me with my mess, said laughingly, "Well, you know they say there is no use crying over spilled milk!" to her companion cleaners. I guess whatever shred of pride or dignity that might be left in me was keeping me from bawling like a baby all over that spilled milk whether there was any use in it or not.
The mess got cleaned up. We drove home without mishap. The groceries were put away. The kids were fed their supper. I climbed the stairs with Dinah, put us both in our jammies at 7pm and crawled into bed. It felt so good and I was miserable.
I had tried to read my "Unglued" book and work in it earlier in the day but it only made me want to cry. So I had to close it because I didn't have time to break down. It seemed that lately my whole life has been "unglued". My thoughts ran to all the things I had to be thankful for. The fact that my illness was not worse than it was. The fact that even though I've been off work we have had back-up in place for most of that and that God is providing as we go. The fact that we have been lovingly delivered meals over and over again that have helped us so much. The fact that I've had so many beautiful people praying for me. The fact that for everything I had obligated myself to and was unable to fulfill, my wonderful brothers and sisters in Christ have stepped up to take care of for me. The fact that I am able to be at home now and not at the hospital. The fact that even though you have to take medicine, it allows you to be mobile anyway. The fact that my children and husband have been healthy through all of this. The fact that I've had a dream team of doctor and nurse friends helping me through every bit of this. The fact that I have been able to be up and around this week and to get to be a mom to my kids and to be with my Bible study groups. "Yes, yes", annoyed, I said, "But don't you see how pitiful I am? But look at all that went wrong. Look at all the things that were painful and hard." I fell asleep feeling sorry for myself.
Well, I woke at 9:30. Time for another dose of medicine. After I hooked up my i.v., I knew I needed more than this dose of medicine could provide and started thinking about my day. I thought about the perfume. Broken and spilled out, evaporated now. So I looked up the chapters in John with the "immoral woman" who poured out her perfume from her alabaster jar onto Jesus's feet and washed them with her tears.
I thought about the milk and then read the verses in Hebrews about the believers who were still drinking spiritual milk and hadn't graduated to solid food because they still didn't do what was right.
I searched the words "broken" and "spilled". Here's a little of what I found.
"A cheerful heart is good medicine, but a broken spirit saps a person's strength." Proverbs 17:22
Well, my day was an example of that one. My broken spirit took what strength the meningitis didn't take. I spent my get up and go on feeling sorry for myself. Man, I did it again.
"The sacrifice you desire is a broken spirit. You will not reject a broken and repentant heart, O God." Psalm 51:17
"He heals the brokenhearted and bandages their wounds." Psalm 147:3
"All of us must die eventually. Our lives are like water spilled out on the ground, which can not be gathered up again. But God does not just sweep life away; Instead He devises ways to bring us back when we have been separated from Him." 2 Samuel 14:14
"Our bodies are buried in brokenness, but they will be raised in glory. They are buried in weakness, but they will be raised in strength." 1 Corinthians 15:43
I found mercy and hope despite my failings. He won't only heal my brokenness, He'll use it for His glory if I let Him and He will draw me closer to His side.
"You call out to God for help and He helps - He's a good father that way. But don't forget, He's also a responsible Father and won't let you get by with sloppy living." 1 Peter 1:17
He's not going to let me get away with living in the old way. I am a new creature and I better start acting like it. All this chiseling (for you "Unglued" ladies) hurts but its to make me into the beautiful creation He sees me to be. He isn't going to let me settle for the ugliness that I've become used to (for you "Girls Gone Wise".)
"Your life is a journey you must travel with deep consciousness of God. It cost plenty to get you out of that dead-end, empty headed life you grew up in. He paid with Christ's sacred blood, you know; He died like an unblemished sacrificial lamb. And this was no afterthought. even though it was only lately--at the end of the ages--become public knowledge, God always knew He was going to do this for you. Its because of this sacrificed Messiah, whom God then raised from the dead and glorified, that you trust God, that you now have a future in God." 1 Peter 1:18-21
So, I hope that my pity party is over. I pray that I don't let Satan get that foothold in my mind again. Get away! I pray I dwell on what is true and honorable, right and pure, holy, commendable in the Lord's sight, the things that are excellent and worthy of praise. (Phil 4:8)
References: Unglued by Lysa TerKeurst
Girls Gone Wise in a World Gone Wild by Mary Kassian
www.biblegateway.com
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