When solitary walks are by choice, it is exhilarating, delicious. Enjoying the cool of the evening, quietness, sweetness of life. Pondering, rejoicing. Wondering. Singing. Remembering. Laughing.
Then, there are times the walk is lonely. The road is hidden. Dark. Tedious. Solitary.
I'm learning to let that be okay, also. Even though some well-meaning and loving friends tell me, "Ask for help." "Take care of yourself." "You can't do it all."
The funny thing is that there is no one in my household who could get it out at high noon. And, believe me, it is laughable to look up and see yourself in the mirror trying to take out a sticker!!!
Some of my days, recently, had been dark and solitary and difficult.
I really did pray long and hard about my last post. Perhaps it was more for myself than for most of my readers. While some of it might be for those who walk similar care-giver journeys, it was basically a somber read.Then.
The day dawns when you realize, "Wow. It IS all up to me!!!"
The day blasts when you know that there is no one else.
Man! I'm IT, baby !!!
That understanding can either set you free ---- or slap you into your own mental prison. I do not like the thought of a prison.
Do you remember a TV commercial from oh so many years ago when the young mom, exhausted and obviously fighting a terrible headache slams the kitchen cupboard, grits her teeth, and hisses, "Please Mother, I can do it myself!!" Some instant pain headache reliever, as I recall. I'm sad to admit that sometimes I treat my Holy Father that way.
Last night, sleep would not come. The day had been pretty good and fruitful but long and I fell into bed with many things left undone. Finally, I snapped on the light (thankfully, my wonderful Dear Heart goes to sleep instantly and can sleep through anything), pulled out the book I chose to read during Lent.
The Praying Life Seeking God in All Things, by Deborah Smith Douglas.
Yep, I chose a heavy duty lesson to study. But, it had been good and over the weekend it was my great privilege to attend a day seminar to hear the author in person.
So, last night, after enough wiggling and squirming I got still and quiet and opened the book to where I had left off last Friday. Page 47. I picked up in the middle of a chapter. And God sat down beside me.
Ms Douglas writes of her own experience as a harried and sometimes too-busy-to-pray young mother. "The fractioning of my days is not likely to end any time soon. But perhaps--by a miracle of grace, by the grace of God--I can come to see myself not as meaninglessly disintegrated but as broken and given like bread, poured out like wine......"
I read it over and over. I cried. I found my trusty yellow highlighter and rubbed the words. I cried.
Providing care to my grown disabled daughter and to my beloved husband is, in some aspects, like those long ago days as a harried and too-busy-to-pray young mother. Except now I am old. With health issues of my own. But, last night I felt not alone and I slept.
Today, I worshiped as I tiptoed into another day of Lent, remembering what Jesus did for me. He does know all about my journey.
And I know that God's word is true. Because He said so. (Colossians 1:17)
And, by the way, He is alive. Now.
"He is before all things, and in him all things hold together."
He will even hold together the solitary life of this aging care-giver!!
Praise be to the Father and to the Son and to the Holy Spirit.
Love,
Liz
And, by the way, He is alive. Now.
He will even hold together the solitary life of this aging care-giver!!
Praise be to the Father and to the Son and to the Holy Spirit.
Love,
Liz
