After her husband suffered a stroke, a UTI, a bout with pneumonia and a few other maladies, she tripped and fell in the middle of the night, trying to avoid stepping on the cat and found herself with multiple fractures of her leg requiring surgery, a plate, pins, rest, PT, a bedside potty and as many indignities as one can imagine. Since, my friend has always been a front-line server, it has been hard for her to be the recipient of meals-on-wheels, the passenger rather pusher of wheelchairs, and the wearer of garmets selected by those who venture upstairs to rifle through her closet for the purpose of accesorizing her baggy sweats and voluminous pants.
The healing process has been slow. I have attempted to encourage my exceedingly patient friend. "You are passing lots of tests," I say. "The Lord is just taking you higher...It may be more blessed to give than to receive, but sometimes we need to allow others the blessing of giving to us...You have been Aaron and Ur to many. Now let them hold up your arms." Why didn't she slap me? Why didn't she tell me take my Pollyanna quips and offer my platitudes to someone else? Why didn't my sweet friend--knowing that I didn't "get it"--roll her eyes in disgust at my cheerful (yet, sincere, I might add in my defense) colloquialisms? Because, she was intently focused on listening to The Lord and learning what He had for her in this waiting season. She was drinking deeply of a bitter cup that a loving, heavenly Father had allowed to be passed her way. She did not gulp, pretending the potion was not bitter stuff, nor did she pass the cup politely sipping in solitude. His grace was sufficient one day at a time as she waited and waited and waited.
I have observed my friend brave physical pain and acquiesce to all kinds of limitations formerly unknown to her. And here's the remarkable part. I have watched her countenance turn from a Martha-type worry and fear to a Mary-heart consistently seeking to know her Lord more intimately, thanking Him for his faithful care. She wasn't trying to "miss it" before, but my sweet sister-friend gained a new perspective when the bus came to a screeching halt. A pervasive sense of humor has been good medicine, like the Bible says. My friend shrinks from the sounds of the bus she claims to hear honking it's horn bidding her back on board. She knows that the brightly colored lures of life-in-the-fast-lane offer a ticket with a seat reserved for her. But having tasted of the sweetness of a season of dwelling quietly in God's presence, I'm pretty sure she will turn down all offers for a busy-bus pass.
And in the healing proces, there came a new perspective. My friend, an avid gardner, says that she enjoyed her garden more than ever this year. How could that be? She was not able to be immersed in the fruits of her labors....to pinch, poke, prod and prune all the greenies and growies in her lovely Tasha Tudor-type surroundings. How enlightening for her to realize she had a selected view, much like a photographer behind the lens as he moves the viewfinder to frame a pleasing composition. Without being overwhelmed by weeds or threatening mites, the view from her kitchen window highlighted a swath of colors, textures and patterns not before seen and appreciated because of the tyranny of the up-close-and -personal tending. Isn't life like that sometimes? Our "missing the forest for the trees" is a common infirmity when we let the day-to-day drain the joy and beauty that surrounds us.
And now, I sit, with a big old boot on an ankle that has been painful for weeks. An elusive injury has been diagnosed. All of a sudden, my sense of importance has escalated and my "to-do" list flashes in neon. I cannot keep my foot elevated, clear my calendar, do nothing! My disgustingly responsible self-reliance seeks to drown out the Voice of the One to Whom my sweet convalescing friend has pointed for months. What would He have me do today? Where would He meet me? Am I listening or am I just breathing the exhaust fumes while the bus idles at the door of my heart? For long years I have wanted to write, been encouraged to write, felt often I was in disobedience to God as I have chosen to spend time doing "important" things first. Always the laundry, the next meal to prepare, dust bunnies to coral from under the beds. There are weeds to pull, leaves to rake, plants to water. Always, there are tasks. But IF I delight to do His will and IF He has given me a gift to employ and to enjoy and IF this is the day that He has given to live fully present and fully alive, then maybe, just maybe, He is pleased when I disembark from the busy-bus and don a boot and a slower pace, for such a time as this.
"But godliness is actually a means of great gain when accompanied by contentment,"
I Timothy 6:6
This is wonderful! Thank you.
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