The Good Life Lie

This morning, or rather in the wee hours of this not so fine day, I tossed around with the beginnings of another headache.  Not a good time of course, with three little girls sleeping in the living room, needing to get ready and off to worship this morning. ‘Oh God, please no, not another one,’ I thought. 'This pain in my head and neck won't fit into today's schedule. Tommy will have to function on his own again…'

I slept off and on with the dreaded pain escalating to a full throttled migraine ‘till my alarm rang out its signal for me to get up. ‘No, this won’t do at all.’ I thought as I rolled over moaning with the need to vomit.  Old fears of ending up like my daddy, encapsulated within a body that won’t move, slithered back into my thoughts.  He’d had migraines too, most of my life, ‘till a massive stroke silenced the pain with a paralyzing blow to his brain.  And now I, feeling the throbbing in my head several times a month, worry that I’ll end up just like him.  No one really ever knew what happened that awful day, but suspected that recent migraines had been severe enough to cause spasms in his neck, temporarily blocking the blood flow through the vessels to his brain.

The phrase “the good life,” whatever that unattainable concept meant, rolled around in my head a few minutes ago, mocking me for my faith in God.  Where is this “good life,” Lord?  This life isn’t good.  The circumstances around me and the world are not good today.  Even with my complaining, I felt the Lord’s comfort resting there alongside my bruised faith and rumpled covers.  Prayers for my own pain relief soon led into prayers for so many others that have most likely been betrayed by the world’s advertisements for a “good life.”  Slide like pictures of them filed through my mind like movie clips without sound.  And so I prayed as they appeared, as if they were waiting in line with unanswered questions similar to mine.

Monique’s family…God please…minister to those remaining in absolute agony following her death only a week ago. Cancer and chemo had ripped away the last bits of her young life without mercy or thought to those left grieving. Now her husband, who had begged you for healing, is left to care for three young ones, all alone.

For Matt’s dad, who miraculously was brought back to life after weeks of existing in a state somewhere between the living and the dead. After a tremendous tug of war, the living won out and he was brought home. But not without sacrifice, and no where near completely healed.  Though thankful for his spared life, fear and anxiety remain behind as they face an unknown future.

Father God, for the families of our Kaufman County DA, his wife, and his assistant, gunned down just weeks ago…they are left with fear, anger, and unimaginable, heart- rending grief.  It sears clear through the children and friends, to the community left to seek justice from this senseless nightmare.

For my mom, Lord, who has gotten up each morning and gone to bed each night the last 28 years, feeling the full weight of responsibility for Daddy’s life within her hands.  Lord, her body and spirit are aching with fatigue from the load.

On and on the faces needing prayer came to mind till I believe God spoke clearly to my heart about some things.  I believe He let me know that the good life is not going to show itself within a trouble free existence.  It’s not a mirage of carefree, problem free, politically perfect, “I have everything I need to make me happy,” world. Somehow I need to reconcile the false belief that goodness and joy only follow after circumstances have adjusted to my liking. Believing in God and loving Jesus, don't provide stress free living, or steer me clear of the evil in this world.  "Goodness, or rather I," He said, "am found within the pain." 

Goodness was shown within the loving words spoken publicly by my heartbroken friends Karen and Merilee  during Monique’s funeral service yesterday. It bloomed within the ICU room of Matt’s dad, as many people praised God regardless of outcomes for his life. Goodness was found recently at the Kaufman court house  as people gathered around to pray not only for justice, but for salvation for those that killed Mark Hasse and the McClelland's.  And I too, experienced the good life just yesterday while pushing a grocery basket for my mom up and down the aisles of Brookshires, as she slowly filled her basket with items needed for the week. 

Yes, I believe God is telling me that the good life is possible. There's goodness in knowing Jesus is lying down beside me during a migraine, or even paralysis should that happen later on.  There was goodness in Tommy’s quiet service this morning as he got the kids ready for church without my help. It was shown while Andrew played his guitar during worship last Sunday morning. Instead of giving up, he’s graciously allowed God to lead him around his disease, without bitterness for what was lost. The “experience of goodness” that we all seek, is an intangible attitude about life that will allow Monique’s husband, with God’s help, to raise his young family without their mom. It will allow Matt’s dad to thrive in spirit and his mom to provide needed care no matter what level of health he achieves.

I’m thinking that having a “good life” isn’t going to just appear after things in life have gone my way. It’s not something to hope for with job promotions, retirement plans, or even healing of those I love.  It’s not meant to wait ‘till after the funeral is over, or when the killer is brought to justice, or after my abusers have confessed their sins against me. It isn’t something to anticipate in the future when such and so happens.  It's born in the present, from an attitude of acceptance of life as we know it.  It entails “seeing” the beauty of God’s spirit living, breathing, and reproducing unexplained joy, peace, and hope around, through, and in spite of the present circumstances we now find ourselves in.  

On Strike Till Further Notice

I need to write so badly Lord…please give me words so that I can empty my soul of the emotional turmoil that binds me like a strait jacket.  My world is a blur such that I think I just numbed out yesterday.  My body is still doing all the motions, my mouth speaks words that make the outside appear to be functioning.   But inside is reality. Inside there is chaos and fear.  Inside my mind is a whirl wind, no, more like a tornado, of thoughts that are exploding.

It’s odd how you start your week with a plan or at least an inkling of what is or should be.  I ask my Father for direction, courage, and strength to do what He’d have me to do, with grace. But this body and mind He’s provided to “do”, has done give out.

The list of needs for Tommy’s mom and my parents multiplies with each passing year…but so do the needs of our children.  I’ve long given up on “me time” or “Tommy time.”  That’s not even an option this week or even this year.  I waved my white flag, surrendering non-existing rights to God and said, “use me.”  But today I’m at a loss of how to continue.  It seems that by the end of each day, Tommy and I’ve patched up as many leaky holes as we can, but waking up today I can’t face any more. Even with each child and parent seemingly waiting patiently, there is only so long one can push back a building flood behind the dam.  Until something or someone, cracks.

Despite getting dad a home physician, he has four specialist visits planned over the next few weeks, colostomy surgeon, urologist, ear nose and throat doctor, kidney doctor, Mom can no longer take him on her own. Her aide can help some, but that costs more money, which mom wisely tries to conserve. Plus my pride and need to be there for her, kicks and screams in tantrum at the reality that the aide now spends more time now with my parents than I.  She has become a part of their daily life and their dependence on her grows equal to my increasing absence to physically help them.  That in itself has pierced me clean through.

Mom has her own waiting list of things that need attention that will likely not happen.  But it’s not just the physical time required to take care of my parents, but the decision making, planning, and tremendous emotional support that they need. It feels like they're within inches of having everything we’ve juggled since daddy’s stroke nearly 30 years ago, come crashing into a big heap at the door of the local nursing home. And no one wants that.  It would be the end of both of them.

Tommy’s mom who has managed this last year with such beauty and grace, has a lot of needs too.  I’ve wanted to step in and help with the last years of her life. We promised to take care of her after his dad died last year.  Her eye surgery this week and the care she needed afterwards required a sacrifice of time, love, and physical help.  I was thrilled to be able to finally do something for her after all these years.  But in getting closer to her emotionally, I saw so much more that could be done to make her life better. There is only so much Tommy’s brother can do on his own.  She has spent her entire life serving others and its time to give back.

After being allowed to patch a few leaky holes this week for her, I turned around and saw many more within my children’s lives that were begging attention. Home schooling,  two doctor visits for Andrew plus getting Endocrine lab work that was five weeks late, STARR Testing trips to Dallas, camp counselor with Lydia next week, Luke’s upcoming musical in May, costumes for the Hunger Games senior banquet at church....its only the beginning. Schedules dance in my head long after bedtime screaming for attention from my brain and leaving migraines to deal with in the morning.  Add in my hot flashes, irritability, and poor sleeping that signal menopause and OMG, I’m forgetting bits and pieces of nearly everything, leaving puddle-like trails of half-fulfilled results that please no one.

And money, always money, there isn’t enough to cover anything.  So we throw a little in too many directions and cover the rest with plastic credit and prayers.  Yesterday, after I’d mistakenly left some of Tommy’s mom’s luggage back at our house, I thought I couldn’t handle one more crisis.  But alas, we weren’t finished yet.  An angry outburst from one member of the family resulted in the destruction of Andrew’s school lap top.  What do you do?  We used it as a teaching lesson on anger management and forgiveness…a very expensive lesson. I was proud of all involved after the flames died out.  Satan’s schemes got turned into a priceless picture of grace.  Though love and forgiveness may have fixed feelings, we were still left with another leaking hole.

Feeling a sensation of drowning, I crashed into bed with a couple of Benadryl for sleep; hearing in my head that regardless of all my efforts to make a difference, nothing had been done well, wrapped up neatly, and finished.  After crying a bit, I swore I was going to stay in bed today, on strike till further notice.