To Do Or Not To Do

During this season of Lent, I've felt the need to detoxify from Facebook and Photoshop, both culprits that have recently been gouging massive chunks out of me. Their subtle lure has been an enticing and socially acceptable means of escaping my “to do” filled life. Each day I’ve hoped to finish an over flowing list of needs while still finding time for myself. Although I don’t have a ready bucket list waiting to put into action, I’m sure I could come up with something. However, the sun sets in the evening, and with it, any chance of "me" time. I finish the day only to fall into bed, sleep, and wake up to more racing throughout the day. Like the descent of dense grey fog, a very sobering thought has settled itself into my consciousness these last few weeks… ‘I WILL NEVER BE FINISHED!’

And so breeds resentment and frustration, which are nice words for passive anger that stews and simmers unbeknownst by me. The poisonous mixture seeps into my thoughts, leaving behind the stench of discontented complaining… like a virus really, contaminating the good and obscuring the sweetness that I know still lives beneath monotonous days.

The idea that I could control some part of my day has become an unattainable luxury, a mirage of hope that’s vanished with the coming-of-the-fog. So I’ve found myself lost in cyber world, often oblivious to the need to fix dinner, tuck kids into bed, begin school in the morning…sometimes I just don’t give a care so I escape. But just like any drug of choice, the high I get from it crashes quickly into a reality of laundry, dishes, school, and parent needs.  There are no Facebook fairies to magically wave the daily duties away while I vegetate online, and I can’t Photoshop away all of life’s blemishes. Nope, it’s all there waiting for me, but with less time than earlier to complete, and lots more agitation with everything and everyone, including myself.

The detoxification process has been painful the last few days, leaving me with loneliness and a longing for something.  I’ve spent more time reading in the Bible though, and praying, asking God to draw close while I lay down the cyber crutches. The Lord has reminded me that I do have choices in each day, to kick and scream like a two year old, or to display a spirit of submission to His plans. Although my two year old is usually the first responder, a  more mature and Christ-like spirit says, "Yes, Lord; I’ll go where you lead."

So was my state when I went to see the dentist on Wednesday. After telling me I needed a couple of crowns in the next few months, he talked to me about his dad who had been put in the hospital last week.  His parents and mine have known each other since...before I was born.  After telling mom about it, we decided to get them up to the hospital to see their old friend.  It wasn’t convenient to leave in the middle of Lydia’s and Andrew’s lessons on Friday, and it took a good bit of effort from mother to get them dressed, in the car, and over to my house. Mom’s always had a saying that sometimes you just “do”.  You do what has to be done when it’s important and then deal with any fall out later. We determined that this was one such important time, to lay aside any practicality and “just do.” So we didJ

Minus my GPS, I managed to drive mom and dad's 15 year old car to the unfamiliar hospital and park in a handicapped place. After we slowly extracted daddy out of the car and deposited him into his chair, I wheeled him up to the rehab unit where their friend was recuperating. I stopped myself from smarting off to the nice aide behind the desk when she asked sweetly if I was bringing Daddy in as a new patient.  Thankfully, she couldn’t hear my not so nice thoughts. 

‘No he isn’t new, he’s 80 years old and he isn’t patient at all lately. You really don’t want him here. He’s got an attitude and has spent enough time in rehabs over the last 27 years that he’d think he was qualified to run this place. Yes, he may look like he needs rehab, but as bad as he looks, it’s as good as it’s gonna get missy, but, thanks for asking.’

We found their friend dining in the sun room and parked dad next to him.  It made me sad, to watch mom and dad with him, thinking about all they’d been through the last 48 years together. There they were,  not in a deacon's or elder's meeting as in an earlier life, but parked side by side in wheelchairs swapping rehab stories. While Lydia and I waited patiently, it occurred to me that I was sitting in the presence of three inspiring warriors; warriors that had never given up; Godly people that have kept going although their current circumstances didn’t reflect any semblance of what they might have wanted.

   

Soon it was time to leave. The efforts to transfer dad back into the car were just as tedious, but we eventually buckled everyone back in safely and headed east. As I wove in and out of busy I635 traffic, I felt a tremendous weight of responsibility, more than I thought I could handle. To the right was my paralyzed dad, towel in lap, trying to eat a burger with one hand.  In the back was mom, newly diagnosed with two leaky heart valves-- full of child-like trust that I’d get them home without a hitch.  And Lydia…my little 10 year old trooper has grown up sharing her mom with others. She still had lessons to finish out the week.  'Lord,’ I thought, ‘I can’t finish this life!  I’m not qualified and I’m overwhelmed right now. What are you thinking about?’

Glancing back at mom though, I was reminded of the previous Wednesday that I’d come over after seeing my dentist. She had greeted me with a huge blessing. Short on money, time, and energy, I’d committed to too many things again and couldn’t get it all done.  She had managed to go to the store and bank for me and put together a very organized sack full of cards, cash, and candy for the kids Valentines’ Day. It had saved me hours that I’d not had to spare. But more than time was this amazing blessing of having my mother still in my life, loving me, believing in me, and taking care of me as her daughter.

 

After thanking her a few times, she hugged me tightly and said, “Kerrie, we do what we have to do because it’s what we’ve been given. The only choice we have is in how we respond to what comes our way.  We’re a team you and I, and it will work out.” Then she said, “I’m so thankful I was able to help you today.”

With mom’s recent diagnosis of heart trouble, I know the ebbing and flowing of our relationship of mom and daughter will continue to shift, settle, and then shift again. My prayer is that during this Lent season that God can show me the beauty of service as I’ve seen in the lives of those three warriors. That I’ll lay down fear and resentment, and like mom, embrace the love of “doing” in such a way that blesses all those precious souls that God has entrusted into my care.