One can’t help but think this is what the Lord is doing in my life. Stillness. I’m getting very good at it… and very bad. I’ll go days without over exerting myself and then WHAM. I blow it. This weekend was one of those WHAMMY times. Friday, I went to Wal-Mart. My first trip in weeks. How can you go weeks without going to Wal-Mart? I did. I bought me new clothes (and they’re pants!) and a refill in cosmetics (I’ve got to do something to feel less frumpy) and some cotton yarn to practice on little crocheted hats. (I’ll buy the good stuff later)
By the time I arrived home, I was doing very poorly. I was still… and reminded second by second who is God!
Yesterday afternoon, I decided to tear strips for Andra’s Birthday Dress. I didn’t think it’d be very taxing and then I’d have a sense of accomplishment. I was tired by the time I was done. Not as exhausted as the day before, just tired. I wanted to rest but we needed to go to Little Hannah’s for a gift for little Euphemia for her baptism today. So… off we went, me blissfully unaware that I was over doing it. Again. Twenty minutes in Little Hannah’s and I was beat. I practically crawled to the car leaving Kevin with the sticker shock of my bill. (A dress for Lorna, the gift, a Christmas gift for Lorna, a Christmas gift for Ethan, a card…)
I came home and rested. I tried not to move if I could avoid it. I needed, most desperately, to feel normal later. We had Hungarian Coffee Cake to make for Euphemia’s Baptism today. At seven-thirty p.m., Kevin started melting butter, warming milk, and Braelyn started the yeast. I went into the kitchen and mixed it together with all the flour. Oh boy. My heart raced, fluttered, and thudded. It felt like it was folding over on itself. I was frustrated. I plopped the mess in the mixing bowl and sulked in my chair.
An hour later, I tried to help dip the circles in butter and then cinnamon and sugar. I couldn’t do it. By the third one, my arm was aching. Kaylene and her friend Natalie helped while I sulked. Ok, so I hid it. I don’t want my children learning the fine art of immaturity from me. But the truth is, I sulked. I’m trired of doing nothing. I’m tired of missing out on all of the fun things that there are to do.
Today, I’m feeling a little sorry for myself. While the rest of my family and my church is celebrating in the baptism of my first grandchild, I am home, alone, AGAIN, because I can’t climb stairs. I am barred from my favorite activities because my heart (or some unknown part of my body if the doctors are wrong) has betrayed me. How dramatic that sounds! It doesn’t feel dramatic. It feels depressing.
Depressing. That is something that has surprised me. I would have assumed that after seven and a half weeks in a chair, I would have entered into some kind of mild depression. If for no other reason, because I’m so inactive! Cabin fever! But I’m not. I don’t like it… I complain sometimes, but I don’t have any kind of despondency or melancholy. I just want it over so I can get back to life as normal. But I wonder… how long before my mental attitude does succomb? Is it inevitable or is my natural acceptance of how life is enough to protect me? I don’t know. Prayerfully the Lord will keep me from any disappointments.
In the meantime, it’s a reminder. I have a wonderful opportunity that so many women dream of. I have the ability to simiply sit at Jesus’ feet. How odd that my normal Mary self morphed into a Martha the moment that Maryness wasn’t an option. I love to study, learn, read the Word and infuse my life with it. I find it interesting though, when this is an opportunity handed to me on a silver platter, I balk and want to “do”. I want busyness. I want what I can’t have. Is it possible that my contentment is only the appearance of it? Is it possible that I’m only content because I had what I wanted and now that I don’t I’m learning just how discontent I truly am at heart?
Sigh. I probably am. I think I need another infusion of Paul. If anyone understands contentment and how one grows into a true heart of contentment, it is that Apostle of old. Praise the Lord for open eyes… even if I did really like them shut.