Being set aside has its advantages, but it never seems convenient. Just recently one v e r y l o n g d a y I spent in bed recovering from a night and day of vertigo and stomach bug. Nasty things…and we never welcome them.
Not a cup of tea, or taste of toast did I have that w h o l e l o n g d a y. It grabbed me with such vengeance that I was humbled. It might be fine to lie around watching old movies, but the blinding headache was too much. My eyes were shut to the world and my thoughts were sometimes irrational, such as getting a shotgun for my misery.
When would it end?
Imagine my relief when late afternoon the headache began to fade and vertigo was gone. One day in bed seemed like nothing compared to a memory of 6 weeks of recovering from multiple broken ribs from one winter’s black ice. I still get twinges as if my ribs are trying to remind me.
Today I took a slow walk, just having some nourishment after t h e l o n g e s t d a y. Down the road, one large cornfield rolls all the way from the road back to the Susquehanna River. It’s still standing. Just months ago it was so green and fresh, and now it quivers and rustles in the wind.
It is dry, brown dry, in need of water dry.
I wonder how there could possibly be any nourishment left in those leaves, the cobs?
Every so often a big truck flies by with cut corn swirling all around me and I duck my head so none of the dust hits me in the eyes. The road has been littered with corn for a few weeks now.
Nearby the oak leaves are starting to say their goodbyes. The wind slides one curled up leaf across the road in front of me. It’s curled fingers scratch its nails on the road as it blows past, as if it were still clinging to life.
The look of dry autumn turns into a symbol of my last few weeks. Words come and go and I am stunted. I don’t know how to go on. Scrivener still eludes me as I try to rewrite of my novel.
It is interesting that when we are set aside for sickness, or dry spells in life, that we think it is inconvenient. We are a nation of hard workers, always striving…and for what? To be noticed? To be remembered?
I was striving for something to make me happy, or keep from boredom, but being set aside kept me from even thinking about it.
Nothing mattered but feeling better.
I know from experience not to ask why. I could quote the old standard we tell our children when they cry unfair.
That’s life, we say.
Get used to it.
Sometimes the anxiety creeps away as I wait for what’s next. Does it matter at all that I make a blog page this week? Since it is my goal, and I avoid it, does that mean I have failed?
We are all weary from our journey, and weakened at times. The path we chose to walk is narrow, and sometimes dark, so we walk blindly knowing it is our path.
We may be dying, but he is the Bread of Life.
We thirst and he is our Living Water.
We falter and he is our Rock.
We are afraid and he is our Strong Tower.
When we feel alone, he is Abba.
He is like rain upon mown grass…
He is our Light for the narrow path.
He is our Comfort when we are alone.
He is our Healer. He is the Restorer.
He is the Way.
It was good to drop my load and leave worry at his feet, knowing his purpose for me is rest. The possibility of change in our lives is always at the door, and it might be best to rest and not resist.
And to this end I bring comfort in these words…
“I am the Way the Truth and the Life. No one comes to the Father except through me.” John 14:6 NIV
“Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.” Matthew 11:28-30 NIV