Monday, May 16, 2011

Balancing the Platters and Navigating the Potholes

"I'm not really good at balancing things," I said.

"Well, it really is a balancing act," she responded.

Then I started thinking.  I actually used to be pretty decent at balancing things.  In fact, I was really organized and knew exactly what I needed to accomplish.  I made lists.  I have a task program on my phone (that I used to have on a PDA) that helps me keep all of my stuff in order, and I was awesome at checking things off and adding new responsibilities.

Then, this happened, and I haven't been able to get myself together since.  I've cycled through crazy mess to even crazier pretend-you're-completely-fine-and-nothing-is-wrong-with-you.  And what I want to do is slap myself.

There is so much grief in the world.  I can say that this situation has granted me a sort of relational tie to others who grieve.  I don't have trouble interceding for them because I get the emotions that surround those situations.  But at some point in time, I think I entered Dante's Divine Comedy:  "Abandon all hope ye who enter here."

ALL.  HOPE.  Hope of resolution.  Hope of something different.  Hope in God.  All.  Hope.

Oddly enough, I still had a conversation with another person about the fact that we choose how to live our circumstances.  Ironic, isn't it?  While her situation and my situation were different according to outer subtleties, there was so much internal similarity that I should've stopped and said, "OOOOOOH.  Right.  I totally get it."

I think that's why this prayer is so important for me right now.

And because of my need to recognize my dependence on God for everything, I'm not moving until He says move.  While I know the next months are going to be hard, I'm done allowing this endless pit to consume me.  No more doctors.  No more blood work.  No more agonizing.  Until.  God.  Clearly.  Says.  Yes.

I'll have to choose it again tomorrow.  And probably the morning after that.  But after a while, it will be a habit again--you know, the trusting God with my life thing.  It's not that I expect the road to be less rocky that way; I just expect peace while I navigate the potholes.

(Quick note:  I apologize if I haven't been myself around you.  If I've been less than helpful or I've just been out of it when you tried to talk to me, again, I'm really sorry.  I hope we'll be able to move on from this point.)

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